The country, people. Not the frozen foods supermarket. Firstly, dodgy photo alert! If your sensitive little eyes are easily offended by shockingly bad photography then look away when you get half way through this post. In my defence, I didn’t take my good camera, was for some reason focus-challenged throughout and I fully admit to being worse for wear (read: drunken), for a good part of the holiday these meals.

Secondly, I just need to gush about Iceland before we begin. Quite simply, it is breathtaking. I have never visited a country where I’ve seen volcanoes, stunning blue mineral filled waters, glaciers, mountains, geysers, springs and lush greenery all at the same time. Everywhere you look there is a truly amazing landscape. Just go.

So, I expect you are here to learn about the food then? We only visited for four days but we did get a fair amount of eating and drinking done in that time. Of course, it was all about the fish. Icelanders have to make do with what they can glean from the surrounding environment as all other foods must be imported like everything else, which is why the place is so damn expensive. They have fish aplenty though and prize their mountain lamb and skyr (an Icelandic yoghurt), and very good it all is too.

I thought I would begin by showing you what we ate in the restaurants we visited before moving on to the more impromptu stuff in my next post. Our first meal was actually in our hotel restaurant (Panorama Restaurant at Hotel Arnarhvoll, Ingolfsstraeti 1, IS-101 Reykjavík, Tel.: (+354) 595 8540), overlooking the Atlantic, black lava formed mountains looming in the background. The photo above is a little amuse bouche which we remember was delicious but can’t be certain that it was flavoured with white onion and fennel. Whatever, the mandarin oil on top was gorgeous.

Next, I opted for the soup which described itself as “Langoustine Soup – Fennel – Citrus”, which is exactly what arrived. The manner of serving it was a little less predictable however as first the bowl arrived with lid as above – Chris took a sneaky peek inside his bowl and was promptly told ‘no!’ by the waiter. Then came some rather ominous looking black flasks, which we were to find out contained the langoustine soup. It all seems like more washing up to me but the whole palaver did have a fun element to it.

Oh, how that soup is rich, very rich. The bisque type soup with intensely rich and flavoursome but someone definitely had a heavy hand with the cream. We were to learn over the next few days that much Icelandic cuisine is rich, at least in restaurants anyway. You might speculate that this was once to provide hearty sustenance in a cold climate but Iceland actually has a very temperate climate, despite it’s Arctic location (due to the Gulf stream).

Next I ordered the Arctic Char with parsley root, horseradish and ratte potatoes. That breaded morsel in the foreground is a succulent langoustine. I asked the waiter beforehand what Arctic Char tastes like and he described it as a cross between salmon and trout which describes it pretty damn well actually. It’s got a bit of oiliness like a salmon and has the delicate flakiness of a trout. It was sort of creamy, salty and really rather delicious with perfect crispy skin. My favourite bit. Again though, the dish was really rich. So much so, I couldn’t even order cheese. Absolutely unheard of for me. I am still disappointed with myself and my stomach as we speak.

Next up, our traditional Icelandic 7 course meal at Einar Ben Restaurant, (Veltusund 1, IS-101 Reykjavik, Iceland, Tel. + 354 511-5090). Einar Ben describes itself as ‘pure Icelandic’ and is housed in an 18th century building just off the main square in central Reykjavik. You can see here that many of the buildings in Iceland are clad with corrugated metal. This is not hugely attractive but is highly effective at fending off extreme weather conditions such as strong winds and the occasional hurricane.

For some reason I do not have a photo of the first course and I do not know why. A little salad of marinated scallops with radishes, chilli and carrot juice. The scallops were uncooked, sliced finely and delicately flavoured. I could have eaten a big fat plateful but then I had another six courses to go so..

Next, a shellfish-soup with curry, coriander and cumin, served with scallops and langoustine, which was rich (surprise) but also sensitively curried so that it was still predominantly fishy.

My sincerest apologies for the photos, the above and also from this point forward. Next, arrived a piece of cod fillet with fried cauliflower, artichoke purée and truffle oil. They were totally stingy on the truffle oil to the point where I think it wasn’t actually on there BUT, the cod, oh, the cod! The most perfectly cooked, flakiest, succulent piece of cod I have ever ever eaten. Chris agreed. I didn’t really care about the rest.

Does someone at Einar Ben have a parmesan fetish? This is “carpaccio with mixed nut-salad, ginger and fresh parmesan”. Carpaccio of what I hear you ask? Well, it must be beef I guess, thing is, it was so doused in parmesan and cut so unbelievably thin, it was near impossible to taste anything at all. It was a bit like eating one of those flying saucer sweets as a child, sugar paper that just instantly vanished into nothing on your tongue and then a hit of sourness from the sherbet or in this case, a hit of salt form the parmesan. The only good thing about it was crispy ginger slices on top. I’ll definitely be having a go at those myself.

As I said, the Icelanders are proud of their mountain lambs, and so they should be. Small, sturdy, hairy and curly horned, they taste bloomin fantastic. The dish consisted of a juicy fillet with green peas, garlic confit, parsnip and thyme. If your creative imagination can photoshop that picture then you must marvel at how perfectly that fillet is cooked. Imagine your knife slicing through the juicy cut and then melting in your mouth like a dream.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, there’s (nearly) always room for cheese. I was pretty full by this point but I soldiered on regardless (oh, the trauma). Unfortunately, I had consumed a large amount of wine too by the sixth course and I cannot for the life of me remember the names of these traditional Icelandic cheeses. I’m pretty sure that the holey one is a cow’s milk cheese and the other two were akin to brie and camembert in style but I am open to suggestions.

To finish the meal, a skyr crème brûlée with strawberries and vanilla. This was not very successful. I’m not sure if it was the yoghurt that didn’t work but the brûlée had a strange, grainy texture and a very thin and unsatisfying crust. For me, there needs to be a cracking moment when you plunge the spoon through the caramelised sugar and into the vanilla scented cream below. Perhaps a slightly misguided attempt at adapting a classic French dessert using an Icelandic ingredient. The skyr itself is a fantastic product – I would have been happy with a bowl of skyr with fruit.

Although not perfect, the meals had some fantastic elements and I think that keeping it traditional really gives an exciting introduction to a new country. For me though, it’s always the little meals, the impromptu snacks and lunches that really open your eyes to a new way of life so that’s coming next.

Last but not least, I would like to thank Farida of Farida’s Azerbaijani Cookbook for passing on the Yum-Yum blog award to Food Stories. I am very flattered Farida. You know I am a big fan of your blog. You can see all my awards on my, ‘Show Me Some Love!’ page. I’ll pass the award onto anyone who enjoys reading Food Stories. Not because I am lazy but because I have tried and failed to choose…

The weather here in London is acting all silly. There are glimpses of bright sunshine and warm breezes but don’t even think about making the switch to flip flops, it’ll be raining as soon as you are too far from home to change. The garden is loving the conditions, it’s kind of humid, warm but drizzly – I’ve even managed to sprout some lemongrass in a jam jar. All this rain had me craving something comforting. I wanted pizza, but not the guilt so I started looking around for a healthy but satisfying way to enjoy the rainbow chard that arrived in the box this week.

I’m a massive pastry lover but I like it best made with half butter and half lard – that’s just not good for anyone to eat on a regular basis. I wanted something with more of a nutritional punch and lot less guilt. I found this recipe on Evelin’s site, a healthy crust recipe she adapted from a book called ’100 pirukat’. Check out her idea for using bread slices as the tart base at the end of the post – it’s awesome. Anyway, I’ve changed the recipe again, by using wholemeal flour in place of white (I was really on a health trip), which worked really well by the way – it didn’t feel like it needed the white flour at all. The texture is quite soft and gooey, the oats sort of soften so a small piece is really satisfying although I ate half of the whole thing anyway.

Next time I will experiment with reducing the butter and increasing the amount of carrots, just to see if I can make it even more saintly. This could be a great discovery. If you want crispness though, you’re not going to get it here. It’s more of a soft, gooey, wholesome unctuousness, which is fine by me – and Chris too if the way he wolfed it down is anything to go by. The filling has no cream, just two beaten eggs and a tiny splash of milk to bind the chard and caramelised onions. A good shaving of parmesan for a bit of naughtiness and it’s ready to go.

Rainbow Chard and Parmesan Tart (with a Carrot and Oat Crust)

For the crust (adapted from Bounteous Bites).
Fills a 24cm flan tin.

100g oat flakes
100g wholemeal flour
100g grated carrots
100g butter at room temperature
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt

- Mix the carrots, oats and butter (I cut the mix together with a palette knife before going in with my hands).
- In a separate bowl, mix the flour, baking powder and salt. Add this to the carrot mix.
- Bring together to form a dough.
- Press into your tin and chill for half an hour or more.
- Bake for 15 minutes at 200C/400F/Gas6.
- Fill the tart with the filling (below) and bake for a further 20 minutes at 180C/350F/Gas4.

For the filling

Rainbow chard (I used about 10 smallish leaves), tough stems removed and sliced
2 onions, sliced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 large eggs, beaten
Parmesan cheese, to taste
Salt and pepper
Parsley, a sprig, leaves picked and finely chopped
50ml milk

- Add some oil to a pan and add the onions, cooking them slowly for around 10-15 minutes until the begin to caramelise. Add the garlic for 30 seconds or so, then the chard. Remove from the heat when the chard is wilted.
- In a bowl, combine the chard mix, eggs, milk, parsley, parmesan and seasoning. Pour into the tart crust and bake as above.

As you know, I celebrated my blogiversary last week! Amy has made a calendar where we can all record these dates and keep up with them.

The ‘urban garden’ has been a moderate success – ok, so the potatoes weren’t exactly abundant! The tomatoes are going strong though, the herbs flourishing (even two types of basil I’ve been unable to grow before) and these pretty salad leaves, the first harvest. One is a type of rocket, the other is known as ‘bull’s blood’ – presumably due to its striking red veins. Both have a slightly bitter flavour, a good foil for the sweet peaches and creamy cheese.

These were supposed to be grilled. I forgot to light the BBQ, so I cooked them gently in a little butter and black pepper. I tossed them with the salad leaves, some walnut halves, roasted beets, crumbled gorgonzola – all drizzled with a dressing made by whisking olive oil, balsamic vinegar and lemon juice. A little chopped mint is good too if you have it.

So there we were, me with trowel in hand, Chris brandishing the half a grow bag with the potato plant sprouting forth – putting it down on the table as if we were about to chop it’s head off or something. We cut through the grow bag and start pushing fingers into the earth, searching for potatoes – keep searching, keeeep searching…..

It turns out our first mighty strong potato plant managed to produce all of five (ish) potatoes, poor thing! With hindsight I think it would have produced more had we left it another couple of weeks after the flowers died. Still, I must say – the flavour of those few potatoes was fantastic. We savoured every bite – all two of them.

So, I was a bit cocky about the potatoes – but they looked so healthy! Anyway, we have another plant so there is still hope for the crop. I used Anya potatoes for this salad in the end – they have a nice waxy texture – and mixed our measly offerings in too. You can see one of them on the left of the picture above. Fight for it?

The flavours in this salad are punchy – salty, umami-packed salami (umami-salami, umami-salami), finely shredded spring onions and that salsa verde. It’s a nice peppery variation with the watercress that’s around right now – and just think of all those extra vitamins! Oh, go on, think about them…

When we get around to digging up that other plant (aka, pulling it out of the grow bag) – I’ll take some pictures so that you can all have a good laugh admire our bountiful harvest.

New Potatoes, Crispy Salami & Watercress Salsa Verde

New potatoes
Salami Slices (I used German), cut into strips
3 spring onions, finely shredded

For the salsa verde

50g watercress
2 cloves garlic
10 anchovy fillets (the brown, salty kind)
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
Juice of 1/2 small lemon
Extra virgin olive oil
1 small handful capers
1 small handful cornichons (baby gherkins)
1 small handful each basil leaves, parsley leaves and mint leaves
1 tablespoon wholegrain mustard

- Cook the potatoes until just tender, drain and set aside in a serving dish.
- Add the salami slices to a hot, dry pan and cook until crispy. Drain on kitchen paper.
- Add the garlic, watercress, herbs, anchovies, cornichons and capers to a blender and pulse to a coarse paste. You can do this by hand if you like, or with a pestle and mortar. Add the lemon juice and/or mustard to loosen if necessary so you can blend it properly. Decant into a bowl and add any remaining wet ingredients, loosening it with the oil to the desired consistency. I left mine quite paste-like this time.
- Add some salsa verde to the potatoes, mix in the salami and sprinkle over the onions.

When I first went to university, around 7 years ago now, I remember thinking that a butternut squash was a pretty exotic ingredient. For a start, it looked funny, had an almost impenetrable skin and would keep for what seemed like an age – perfect for the absent minded student. A butternut squash risotto was probably the most adventurous dish I ever cooked back then and I remember that trying to find the sage was a bit of a challenge.

I was a little surprised to find a butternut squash in the veg box this week – it must be an early bloomer. I wanted to roast it but still keep it nice and summery mixed with the grilled, salty cheese, spiked with red chilli and lots of herbs. The key here is to cut the beetroot into small dice and the squash into larger, bite size chunks to ensure they are both cooked at the same time. My halloumi could do with a little more grilling but I am very impatient.

You could use any mixture of soft herbs; I added a bit of mint to contrast the chilli heat, some chives and a little parsley for freshness. Make sure you have some sort of citrus on hand too for cutting through everything; I used lemon as I always have loads hanging around. A final flourish of sunflower seeds for a bit of crunch and it’s a goer.

Beetroot, Squash and Halloumi with Chilli-Herb Dressing

100g halloumi cheese, cubed
3 small beets, cut into small dice
1 small butternut squash, cut into large chunks
1 small handful sunflower seeds
1 red chilli, de-seeded and finely chopped
1 handful mint leaves, chopped
1 handful chives, chopped
1 handful parsley, leaves picked and left whole
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
1 teaspoon wholegrain mustard
Juice of 1 lemon
1 bulb garlic

- Preheat the oven to 200C (425F, gas 7).
- Put the squash, beets and garlic in a roasting tin, splash with olive oil, season with salt and pepper and roast for around 45 minutes until the veggies are tender.
- Fry the halloumi in a dry pan until golden.
- Mix the lemon juice, herbs, chilli and mustard together with some pepper fine salt and mix well. When the veggies are done, squeeze a few cloves of the roasted garlic in too. I like to serve the rest of the cloves on the side but they are also delicious spread on toasted bread with some fruit and/or cheese.
- Put the veggies and halloumi on a serving dish, pour over the dressing and add the seeds.

Cheers! Just a short post to raise a glass to the ever-patchy British summer. This is a deliciously refreshing way to use up those strawberries that are everywhere now without so much as stepping within ten feet of balsamic or some kind of pastry. It’s minimum effort too – just requiring a bit of gentle squidging and pouring.

You could use champagne of course, but I just used a bottle of good old Cava. This is a case of adjusting quantities to your taste so I suggest just mushing some strawberries into a jug, then adding a splash of orange blossom water and a little icing sugar if you feel it needs more sweetness. Pour a little into the bottom of each glass and top with your plonk of choice. Ice cold of course. Delicious!