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 ‘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.This is salad number 7, the end of my (rather over the top) week-long blogiversary celebrations. Why not? I like salads.

I could not have anticipated that a simple online recipe log could become something much bigger. I was a long-time reader of food blogs way before I ever considered starting my own, lapping up the musings of veterans such as Jeanne, Sam, Molly, Pim and of course, Clotilde. Food blogs are special because they are written by mere mortals, real characters with ‘other lives’, moonlighting as food junkies. Recipes come to life through these people. The story behind it, what went wrong, what works for people who are doing it for nothing but love, at home, in real life.

Want to know what’s good for eating in other parts of the world? By default, you learn a bit about how other people live. You can follow Peter in Canada, Christie and Peter G in Australia, Aidan training as a chef in Catalonia, David ‘Up Norf’ (championing those beautiful ingredients), Wendy in Scotland, Cynthia in Barbados, Fanny in France, Kalyn in Utah, Nina in South Africa, Sophie in Oxford, Jenn in Florida, Heather in Oregon (that’s what OR means, right?) and of course my fellow Londoners like Niamh, Lizzie and Spaghetti (Your real name?!). I could go on and on, that’s only a tiny selection of the food blogs I read, as are those listed on my blogroll. I really need to update….

Food blogging is about being a part of that community, connecting with people who feel the same way and sharing your experiences. Although I love my cookbooks, most sit gathering dust for long periods – if I want a recipe, I search the blogosphere first. I’m part of a global phenomenon, a network of people as obsessed with grub as I am – sometimes it’s good to know it’s not just me getting funny looks when I’m waxing lyrical about a peach or something.

Speaking of which, 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 that’s it for salad days. What shall I do next? Dessert days? Maybe not, there’s a bikini moment looming in a couple of weeks. The stew series? Not until winter. Bread Bites? No, again – the bikini. Anyway, Susan’s got it covered. BBQ Bites? Now, that could be a winner. I’ll get back to you…

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 wonderfully 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.

Alfalfa sprouts used to be terribly unfashionable didn’t they? My how times have changed. Cast your minds back to when ‘health food shops’ were only frequented by people who modelled their lives on Neil from The Young Ones. Dried pulses, fruits, nuts, carob, tofu, gluten-free, lactose-free, spelt – all of these things are now widely available and celebrated.

So, let’s cleanse our virtual systems shall we? After all those potatoes and cheeses we’ve been cyber-munching the past few days (I ate the lot fo’ real don’t forget), it’s time to lighten up a little. The inspiration for this salad came from the most unlikely of places. A little while ago I found myself stranded late at night in a train station with a problem, I was hungry, really hungry. I can’t remember where I was going or why I ever considered buying food at that moment rather than waiting for the safety of my own kitchen but we’ll let it go.

The options were bad, real bad. No decent purveyor of grubbage in sight. Not even a Pret or an EAT for chrissakes. And that is when it happened. I was forced to buy a sandwich in Boots. Yes, Boots the chemist. After a quick soul destroying scan of the pre-packaged sarnies my eyes settled on a sandwich that looked slightly more edible than the rest (not made by Boots I hasten to add), containing carrot, alfalfa and houmous. So there, I nicked the idea and made it better. Ha. It’s crunchy, fresh, damn good for you and surprisingly filling. I like to make a batch and add a good pile to my plate for extra angel points. Don’t worry, there’s a zingy dressing to liven things up a bit and of course, you could add some cheese, if you were feeling naughty. Cheers bugs!

Carrot, Alfalfa and Chickpea Salad with Seeds

4 large carrots
1 large handful alfalfa sprouts
1 handful sunflower seeds
1 tin chickpeas (or soak you own, if you have the time)
1 dessert spoon wholegrain mustard
Juice of 1 large lemon
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper

- Grate or shred the carrots and mix with the alfalfa and chick peas.
- Mix the mustard , black pepper, a pinch of salt, lemon juice and oil. Adjust the quantities to your taste if necessary.
- Mix some (or all) of the dressing into the salad and sprinkle in the seeds.

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 – I remember that trying to find the sage was a bit of a challenge.

I think a lot of students must start out cooking risottos, stirring and stirring until, voila! A meal! And it tastes good! When I knew next to nothing about cooking, I would chuck a bit of everything in, ruining many a decent effort in the process. Experience gives you the confidence to leave things the hell alone.

That is why I make so many salads – you can showcase seasonal ingredients at their best, with very little effort. 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 when it comes to one of my favourite cheeses.

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. In fact, I think they must be in my top ten store cupboard ingredients. Running out of lemons is a major crisis at Food Stories HQ. 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.