Reykjavík Grapevine - 29.07.2011, Blaðsíða 18

Reykjavík Grapevine - 29.07.2011, Blaðsíða 18
18 The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 11 — 2011 Food | Icelandic REMINISCING WITH FUNGI I recall once, while living in Zurich— where every Friday morning behind the Hauptbahnhof, vegetable vendors and their allies, cheese makers, sauce stir- rers, picklers and curers, displayed their wares—falling deeply in love with food. I remember, we had to prise our- selves out of bed at the crack of dawn, well before the beginnings of traffic, and after a smooth coffee and a freshly-baked croissant at a little bistro just down the hill, we’d take tramline number nine all the way to the open air market. Here were carts displaying 40 kinds of wild mushrooms and fungi, Chant- relles and Porcini, Black Trumpets and Truffles; homemade wild herb pestos; chutneys, jams and jellies made with alpine berries and f lowers; hundreds of cheeses—from the softest Bries, to the most pungent Gruyeres; the air-dried meats, spiced sausages and salamis, doz- ens of them in all shapes and sizes, all cured to perfection by mountain breez- es; and the breads baked with love by Swiss Farmer’s wives; and vegetables— almost anything your heart desired. All this now seems like a distant memory. And I recall the mouth-water- ing seafood in the open-air markets of Barcelona, of Valencia; the pates, confits and cheeses of Paris and Lyon; the mad- sprawl of the Tokyo fish market; the weekend displays of epicurious delights in every single, little Tuscan village—the hundreds of shapes of pastas and home- made raviolis, the Mamas sautéing and stirring the pots; and in Corfu, the ol- ives, the olives, always the olives. Sometimes when I wake up in Reyk- javík, I wonder what on earth I’m doing here—virtually olive- and mushroom- less. Of course, the development of a cuisine is a weather-beaten, historical thingy, and we the survivors of Iceland’s breezy / rainy summers well know that these are not exactly conducive to grow- ing a slew of veg and picklings; but the fact is, even fifty years on, and even with geothermally-heated greenhouses, pick- ings are still slim. SO WHAT IS AN ICELANDIC POT-A TO, ExACTLY? With over fifteen years eating in Icelan- dic homes, I can firmly attest to the fact that at least half of the people I’ve met here have never even considered eat- ing fresh asparagus, had the pleasure of fresh vinaigrette-dipped artichoke straight from the rumple—and baked potatoes? Where in God’s name are the baked potatoes? Granted, supermarkets like Bónus and Krónan flog potatoes, and they also sell five-packs of what they term ‘baking potatoes’ pre-wrapped in silver foil, for those of us who don’t know how to wrap; but quite honestly these are not baking potatoes. Ask any chef worth his salt, and he’ll tell you that a real baking potato is the King Edward or, at a pinch, a Maris Piper or a Golden Wonder. As stated by Brit- ish cook and food writer Nigel Slater, “To get a really f luffy baked potato you need 'f loury', the sort that have white rather than yellow flesh and crumble when you cook them.” And the skin should get crispy when baked in the oven. Honestly, I have yet to eat a serious baked potato in Iceland. POTATO RESEARCH Ask any member of staff at a local su- permarket chain if he/she happens to know when he’ll get some King Edward potatoes in, and you’ll get a wide-berthed shrug; and quite frankly the sheer lack of designation on species of commercially- sold veg in Icelandic supermarkets has vexed this quasi-Icelander from day one. Bearing this in mind, I conducted a little potato-research at the major ‘bud- get’ supermarket chains, Bónus and Krónan, in Reykjavík and here is what I discovered: BóNUS This week the two branches surveyed were stocking five different ‘types’ of potato: 1) Large, thin-skinned ones, loosely called ‘Loose Baking Potatoes’ 2) Ones termed ‘Bónus New Foreign Potatoes’ 3) Potatoes in a neutral plastic bag pack of 2 kgs termed ‘Potatoes’ 4) Icelandic grown potatoes called ‘Red Potatoes’ 5) And, of course, the obligatory, foil- wrapped potato, called ‘Grill Potatoes’ KRóNAN Krónan scored a little higher than Bónus on variety (six ‘types’ in all), but were also entirely unsure as to what potatoes they were really selling. Here’s the low down: 1) ‘Small white foreign potatoes’—af- ter close examination, I found these to be Maris Piper potatoes (aha, a possible baking potato) from Mallorca, Spain 2) So-called large ‘Baking Potatoes’ 3) The same large, thin-skinned ones as in Bonus, also termed, ‘Loose Baking Potatoes’ 4) Icelandic grown ‘Red Potatoes’ 5) Icelandic grown ‘Goldeneye Pota- toes’ (perhaps a derivative of the ‘Golden Wonder?’) 6) ‘Helga’ potatoes from Hornafjörður Strangely, not a single potato was desig- nated according to species (at least any internationally known classification), and there was not a single King Edward (baking potato among them). Of course, we all know that the potato originated in the New World and saved the Irish na- tion from starvation at the turn of the last century, but in actual fact, there are over 4000 varieties of commercial potato, from the Adirondack Blue to the Bamberg to the Fingerling all the way to the Yukon Gold. Can anybody out there tell me what a ‘Red Potato’ or a ‘Loose Baking Potato’ is? YOU SAY TOM-AYTO I SAY TOM- AHTO And then, the tomato—possibly the only Icelandic grown vegetable (actually real- ly classified as a fruit—but we won’t pull hairs here) that always appears to be in stock. Grown in greenhouses in places like Flúðir and Hveragerði, there are pretty much only three (scratch that— four) ‘types’ of tomato on offer in Bónus and Krónan: 1) Cherry tomatoes 2) Plum tomatoes 3) So-called ‘Icelandic’ tomatoes 4) And now, available in Bónus for a limited period, ‘Health tomatoes,’ sup- posedly grown with more oxygen…(we’ll get to the bottom of that another time) The tomato plant, also originally from the New World, boasts over 7500 cultivated varieties, the most popular of which are the Heirloom tomatoes—ex- cept in Iceland. But even here at least two out of four tomato ‘types’ do meet with some sort of internationally rec- ognisable variety—the cherry and the plum—though true designation is lack- ing here too. Internationally—among many others, plum tomatoes are sub- classified as the San Marzano or Big Mama—each with its own characteris- tics. A cherry tomato, too, is not just a cherry tomato. Sometimes referred to as tomatinas, varieties vary widely, from the supposed original cherry tomato cul- tivated in the Greek Santori Islands to the cherry tomato popular in the US and Britain, the ‘Sweet 100.’ And there are others too. And there’s a rumour going around that the so-called ‘Icelandic’ tomato is possibly its own cross-breed; one avid gardener told me that in the early days the seeds got all mixed up, so we’re really not quite sure what variety an ‘Icelandic’ tomato is. Someone get out their DNA test already. So, folks, do any of you know what exactly you are slicing into your salads? Do you have a clue what you’re potato- baking in your ovens? Honestly speaking, unless you can afford to splurge on Hagkaup or one of the newer ‘organic’ places, as a serious vegetarian, you’d be looking at an ex- tremely meagre pickings indeed. And fresh mushrooms? Well, I have heard tell of Icelanders plucking wild ones in the countryside, and occasionally you do come across them in the higher-brow restaurants, but for your budget con- sumer it appears there’s only one local variety—commercially-grown button mushroom that don’t have an ounce of f lavour at all—unless you smother them in ‘Pepper Cheese.’ I know some of you are thinking what’s the big deal? a potato is a potato, a tomato a tomato. No, folks. Try a gaz- pacho in Andalusia or a stuffed tomato in Umbria and tell me there isn’t a mile of a difference. I’d have to say, praise the ‘Icelandic’ tomato for being something the rest of the world doesn’t have a clue about. Next time: I gorge on Iceland’s finest smoked delicacies, and get into a punch-out with the Icelandic Horticultural Society. Words Marc Vincenz Illustration Megan Herbert In Consideration of the Icelandic Vegetable How Icelanders eat, part three “Sometimes when I wake up in Reykjavík, I wonder what on earth I’m doing here—virtually olive- and mushroom-less.” BOSTON BAR - SUNNY TERRACE LAUGAVEGUR (the main street) SKÓLAVÖRÐUSTÍGUR HVERFISGATA HVERFISGATA BANKASTRÆTI AUSTURSTRÆTI IN GÓ LF SS TÆ TILÆ KJA RG ATA KL AP PA RS TÍG UR VA TN SS TÍG UR BOSTON BAR LAUGAVEGUR 28B TEL: 517 7816 OPENING HOURS: MONDAY-THURSDAY 16-01 FRIDAY-SATURDAY 16-03 SUNDAY 19-01 DJʼS AND/OR LIVE MUSIC FROM THURSDAY TO SATURDAY SMALL KITCHEN: ENJOY A SNACK OR LIGHT MEAL ON THE SUNNY TERRACE OR AT YOUR TABLE BOSTON 28 ABOVE THE SECOND HAND SHOP HOW TO DRIVE ON GRAVEL ROADS Conditions in Iceland are in many ways unusual and often quite unlike what foreign drivers are accustomed to. It is therefore very important to find out how to drive in this country. In order to reach your destination safely, you must keep your full attention on driving. Where paved road suddenly changes to gravel is a common place for accidents to occur on rural roads. The main reason is that drivers do not reduce speed before the changeover to gravel, and consequently lose control. Slow down and move your car as far to the right as is safely possible when approaching another car coming on a gravel road from the opposite direction. Blind hills, where lanes are not separate, should be approached with caution. The same applies to many blind curves. Loose gravel on road shoulders has also caused a great number of accidents. See further instruction on www.drive.is GRAVEL ROADS, BLIND HILLS & BLIND CORNERS This is part three in an ongoing series. Find part one in issue 7 and part two in issue 9.
Blaðsíða 1
Blaðsíða 2
Blaðsíða 3
Blaðsíða 4
Blaðsíða 5
Blaðsíða 6
Blaðsíða 7
Blaðsíða 8
Blaðsíða 9
Blaðsíða 10
Blaðsíða 11
Blaðsíða 12
Blaðsíða 13
Blaðsíða 14
Blaðsíða 15
Blaðsíða 16
Blaðsíða 17
Blaðsíða 18
Blaðsíða 19
Blaðsíða 20
Blaðsíða 21
Blaðsíða 22
Blaðsíða 23
Blaðsíða 24
Blaðsíða 25
Blaðsíða 26
Blaðsíða 27
Blaðsíða 28
Blaðsíða 29
Blaðsíða 30
Blaðsíða 31
Blaðsíða 32
Blaðsíða 33
Blaðsíða 34
Blaðsíða 35
Blaðsíða 36
Blaðsíða 37
Blaðsíða 38
Blaðsíða 39
Blaðsíða 40
Blaðsíða 41
Blaðsíða 42
Blaðsíða 43
Blaðsíða 44
Blaðsíða 45
Blaðsíða 46
Blaðsíða 47
Blaðsíða 48
Blaðsíða 49
Blaðsíða 50
Blaðsíða 51
Blaðsíða 52
Blaðsíða 53
Blaðsíða 54
Blaðsíða 55
Blaðsíða 56
Blaðsíða 57
Blaðsíða 58
Blaðsíða 59
Blaðsíða 60
Blaðsíða 61
Blaðsíða 62
Blaðsíða 63
Blaðsíða 64
Blaðsíða 65
Blaðsíða 66
Blaðsíða 67
Blaðsíða 68
Blaðsíða 69
Blaðsíða 70
Blaðsíða 71
Blaðsíða 72

x

Reykjavík Grapevine

Beinir tenglar

Ef þú vilt tengja á þennan titil, vinsamlegast notaðu þessa tengla:

Tengja á þennan titil: Reykjavík Grapevine
https://timarit.is/publication/943

Tengja á þetta tölublað:

Tengja á þessa síðu:

Tengja á þessa grein:

Vinsamlegast ekki tengja beint á myndir eða PDF skjöl á Tímarit.is þar sem slíkar slóðir geta breyst án fyrirvara. Notið slóðirnar hér fyrir ofan til að tengja á vefinn.