Two years back, a movie came out with the same name, Stardust. Directed by Matthew Vaughn, it takes the story of the book and moves it into the medium of cinema. This is done in the ways of a movie maker without scrupples and with the complete lack of taste. To make this film, mr Vaughn did the equivilent of taking a 1982 Bordeaux, look closely at it, picture the colour and its label, grabbed strawberry, raspberry and blueberry juice, a bunch of sugar, some winegar and a can of pepper spray and made a copy. This, he let boil dry and served with plastic cutlery with a choir of naked nuns singing Rammstein.

Whatever you do, don’t see this movie. If you do, do not think of this as something even remotely close to the book. The idea is somehow there, but that’s it.

roy

Først bunnen:

• 3 egg
• 4,5 dl sukker
• 6,75 dl siktet hvete
• 3,5 ts bakepulver
• 3 ts vaniljesukker
• 1,5 ss kakao
• 3,25 dl helmelk
• 225 g smør

Vispe egg og sukker til eggedosis. Bland det tørre og ha dette i vekselvis med melka. Smelt smør og bland dette i til sist. Hell i velsmurt langpanne og stek på 215˚C i cirka 20 minutter i bunnen av ovnen. Vent til kaka er kald før du fortsetter til glasuren.

Så glasur:

• 1 pk melis
• 1,5 ss kakao
• 3 ts vaniljesukker
• 8ss smelta smør
• en dæsj kaffe

Bland det tørre, tilsett smør og ha i kaffe til glasuren blir myk og fin og smør den raskt utover kaka. Tilsett kokos eller annen kakepynt på toppen. Merk at glasuren stivner fort, så her bør ting gå raskt.

Server i små porsjoner, gjerne med kaffe. Bilder av kaka kan som substitutt serveres helsefreaks.

roy

Råvarer

Pinnekjøtt fås på den lokale butikken eller hos den lokale slakteren. Du kan få “billig” pinnekjøtt på REMA eller tilsvarende kjeder for drøyt 100kr/kg eller litt mer eller du kan bla opp 200-250/kg hos Strøm-Larsen eller andre slaktere, men er det viktig å ikke prøve å sammenlikne epler og pærer. Det “billige” pinnekjøttet hos dagligvarehandelen er som regel tørket litt (som foran en hårføner i 10 minutter) før det er forseglet i plast slik at ikke vannet forsvinner. Dette fører til to ting. For det første blir ikke kjøttet tørt, noe som gjør at smaken ikke blir den samme. For det andre gjør det at du betaler i dyre dommer for vann, litt på samme måten som da Aftenposten skrev om at vi betaler for vann når vi kjøper kyllingfilét i Sverige. Jeg skal ikke påstå å ha kontrollert, men jeg vil anta at du betaler minst 50% ekstra for vannet i kjøttet, samt får dårligere kjøtt. Mitt råd: Kjøp heller mindre av det dyre kjøttet – det blir bare bedre!

Sau eller lam, røkt eller urøkt?

Pinnekjøtt fås far lam eller sau, røkt eller urøkt. Forskjellen mellom lam og sau er glidende, er det en ungsau eller et eldre lam? Kjøper du pinnekjøtt av et ungt lam, er det lite kjøtt på beinet og stort sett bare ryggstykkene vil ha godt kjøtt. Kjøper du ei ribbe av ei gammel søye, smaker det som regel litt for skarpt for de flestes smak. Selv foretrekker et litt eldre lam eller en ungsau, ei side på 3-4kg eller så. Der får man godt med kjøtt på beinet og det smaker sau, uten at det blir for stramt.

Røkt pinnekjøtt er kaldrøkt etter slakting og senere saltet. Dette gir kjøttet en litt rundere smak, men gjør også kjøttet mindre mørt etter damping. Om du liker røkt eller urøkt pinnekjøtt, er opp til deg. Jeg liker det urøkt.

Utvanning

Skjær opp ribba i stykker med ett ribbein i hvert stykke. Om du får det fra en slakter som har sag, så be om at de ikke sager i ribbeina. Jeg vil tro de fleste slaktere ikke skjærer i ribbeina (Strøm-Larsen gjør ikke det), men det lokale slakterutsalget på Ica kan nok ta en spansk en. Kapp gjerne “pinnene” i to på midten, spesielt om du har valgt ei stor ribbe, ellers trenger du ei rimelig omfangsrik gryte. Hell over vann og la pinnene vannes ut i minst 12 timer, gjerne mer. Noen snakker om flere døgn, men det spiller ingen rolle om du vanner det ut ett eller tre eller sju døgn, siden vannet på det tidspunktet vil være mettet med salt. Kjøttet vannes ut for å gjøre det mykt og for å fjerne noe av saltet. Hvis du bytter vann underveis, vil du trekke ut mer av saltet i pinnekjøttet enn du bør. Pinnekjøtt skal være salt, så ikke bytt vann!

Tilberedelse

Pinnekjøtt skal dampes, ikke kokes, og teknikken som brukes for tilberedelse av pinnekjøtt er nok av de eldre dampeteknikkene før dampkoker og sånt. Opprinnelig ble det benyttet bjørkekvister siden dette ikke setter smak på kjøttet. I dag er det mange som kjøper bjørkepinner i plastpakning for å gjøre det på “gamlemåten”. Jeg stemmer for metallrista – du får ikke noe smak av bjørkekvistene uansett, og det er mer kløn. Så, etter et døgn eller så er pinnekjøttet klart til damping. Du trenger nå ei (eller flere) store gryter med typisk volum 10 liter. Bruk ei damperist, stor modell, i bunnen av gryta og fyll opp med vann til dette kommer opp til bunnen av, men ikke over. rista. Om man vil, kan man bygge opp under rista med ei mindre rist eller noe for å slippe å fylle på vann så ofte. Fyll på med vann, sett på lokk, og la det koke opp. Hell på vann fra tid til annen slik at det ikke koker tørt. Under dampinga vil mye av fettet fordampe og legge seg på bunnen, så om det koker tørt, så kan det i verste fall ødelegge pinnekjøttet. Vær også nøye med å ikke ta på for mye vann, siden du da risikerer å koke de nederste kjøttbitene. Pinnekjøttet skal dampes til det løsner fra beinet, og gjerne litt til. Bruker du urøkt pinnekjøtt, la det dampe i fire til timer. Er det røkt, holder det å dampe i tre timer, men det blir aldri like mørt.

Sjy og stappe

Pinnekjøtt serveres tradisjonelt med poteter, kålrabistappe og sjy, så la oss begynne der. Etter  2-3 timer (eller kanskje bare én) har mesteparten av fettet fra pinnekjøttet smeltet og lagt seg i bunnen av gryta. Ta av gryta, ta ut pinnekjøttet og hell sjyen i ei mindre gryte. Legg tilbake pinnekjøttet, fyll på med vann og la det dampe videre. La denne gulbrune pinnekjøttluktende guffa småkoke til den blir så tykk som en tynn saus. Hadde du mye vann i gryta da du slo av sjyen, må du koke det ned lenger. Smak gjerne til – det skal smake ganske sterkt av pinnekjøtt. Ta ei kålrot eller to, kapp opp i småbiter, gjerne 1-2cm tykke skiver, og kok dette til det er mykt. Stapp dette sammen med melk og sjy til du har ei kålrabistappe som er myk og smidig. Den kan med fordel stå en halvtimes tid for å “sette seg” før den serveres. Sjyen som er til overs, serveres som saus ved siden og brukes på kjøtt og poteter. Siden kjøttet er dampet så lenge (kanskje fem timer om du bruker urøkt), så kan det virke overraskende tørt, så litt sjy vil ikke skade. Smaken vil også bli bedre enn om du lot fette bli igjen i småklumper på pinnene.

…og kanskje saus eller litt annet i stappa?

Når vi først er så godt i gang, kan vi sikkert rikke litt ved gamle tradisjoner. Sjyen er nemlig veldig godt egnet til saus. Ta litt meljevning eller maisstivelse, litt vann, og vips, så har du pinnekjøttsaus til dem som synes sjy ser ekkelt ut. Den tradisjonelle kålrabistappa kan også bli litt tung for noen, så her kan man spe inn med litt poteter for å dempe kålrotsmaken, gulrøtter for å få litt farge, søtpotet (ikke for mye) for å få enda litt farge, eller kanskje fenikkel- eller sellerirot for å få litt mer spiss på smaken. Bestemor vil nok se rart på deg, men om du ikke sier noe, så går det nok ned

Bånn appetitt!

roy

PS: Tar du turen innom Strøm-Larsen, så ta med en kveil eller to med husets kokemør. Mørpølse (evt morrpølse) er krydret innvollspølse og passer veldig bra til pinnekjøttet. Strøm-Larsen har også sin egen spekemør som selv Strandamør har problemer med å stille opp mot.

Yesterday night was eventful for all of the town’s football fans, and quite a few Norwegians that came over. Now, I’m not much into football anymore, but wen I was a kid, my home town, Kongsvinger had a decent football team, so sneaking the into the matches (by the river-side) was part of my youth. (Incidentally, the team seems to be a able to get to the Norwegian elite division this year after spending the last decade in lower divisions, if they don’t mess up, that is, which they have surely done earlier). The Norwegians were certain of winning the match easily, and the match started with Norway scoring after 10 minutes with Iceland scoring 18 minutes later. After this, things happened quickly and Iceland was definitely the better of the two. The match

I eventually found the wine I mentioned yesterday at Rikið, but I won’t be able to get there in time, and the tax-free shop at Keflavík most certainly won’t have that sort of wine. If I’m lucky, they might have one of the other from Casa Lapostolle (and the people that designed vinbudin.is should consider another profession).

Last night I met this geologist, Stephen Kangogo from Kenya, working here in some exchange programme, researching drilling for heat in volcanic areas (that’s how they heat up stuff here). There aren’t many black people up here, so the few of them stand out a bit. He refused to sit outside, having a beer (no smoking inside)because of the cold (wearing twice as many layers of clothes as I was). Later, I met this couple (Ásta og Baldur) and I learned that downtown somewhere (I haven’t found out), there’s a complex of luxurious apartments down by the docks, furnished with furniture matching the interior and with large, fancy LCD or plasma TVs preinstalled. This reminds me of the cruise ship The World, built some years back. I was working on that boat for some days, installing some Video-on-demand equipment. They even have a gyro-stabilised  billiards table on the ship, something whipped up by researchers at NTNU. A few things differs between this place and The World, such as this one has been standing uninhabited for 18 months, and that it’s not a tax haven.

Needing food as usual, I walked around for something, passing Kebabhúsið, to Shalimar (There’s a Shalimar in Oslo as well, not really a cheap Take-away like this one, but possibly one of the best Pakistani restaurants in Oslo. To get there, take bus 31 eastwards (towards Grorud or Tonsenhagen) or tram 17 (but not now, road works) and hop off at Rosenhoff and walk down Konghellegata until you find them on your left hand side. The food is brilliant, especially the Tandoori sauce. They don’t know shit about alcohol, so you’d better have a lassi (they don’t have Bhang). Don’t order Madras here unless you know what you’re doing!). There can’t be many places above 100 000 inhabitants on earth without a Shalimar, a Taj Mahal and a Dubliner or two. Nevertheless, Shalimar was closed and I didn’t want pizza or kebab so, with a complete lack of creativity, I dived into Prikið and got an omelette that was quite good. Now, one last walk around town trying to photograph what I have missed. I need to try to find more abandoned buildings and perhaps some more people with whom to talk.

Now, there is a little difference between the Danish/Norwegian zero tolerance approach and the Icelandic one. A few years ago, the city council of Oslo refused to allow a Danish graffiti artist to have an outdoor exhibition in Studenterlunden in central Oslo all because it was graffiti and because of this zero tolerance. In Oslo, there are a private few walls open for art and a few more private ones (notably those in Brennevinveien by Blå, one near Hausmania, some by Blitz and an old wall by Mir), but in the public zone, everything is banned. In Reykjavík and even Hafnarfjörður, the  government seems to be allowing art on the street as long as it’s not painted on the actual walls. This approach seems healthy with me, but then, the Oslo city council now wants to ban even private walls with graffiti “to stop this contagious disease”. Who do they think they are fooling? When Pompeii was discovered and dug up around 1748, they found the well-preserved remains of a city that was destroyed in 79 AD. Amongst the findings in the newly discovered archaeologic gold mine of Pompeii, they found wall upon wall with ancient graffiti.

I’m not sure if this post says too much about what I feel about the culture here, but I’ll be posting it anyway. Cafés like Grái kötturinn or Babalú, (of which is the former still closed), those two bookshops down at  Hvervisgötu, Kolaportið and the whole feeling of it all makes me want to name Reykjavík one of the most important cultural centres in the Nordic countries.

Just my two cents…

roy

Half an hour later, the bus arrives in Hafnarfjörður. The name is a compound word of hafn meaning harbour and fjörður meaning fjord. The town centre is mainly one street and a rather hilarious tourist trap trying very hard to be very much viking, but failing this somehow with the extra totem poles and a figure of a priest or with the arms held in prayer and a cross mounted upon his head. Alright, Leifr Eiríksson went to Vinland and he probably brought some pipes and pot back home, but I doubt he started building totem poles. The priest might be more suitable, as the church must have been quite strong at the time when bishop Jón Ögmundsson changed all the names of the days that originally included the old Norse names. In German, Wednesday, Wodenstag (Wōden was the German name for Odin or Óðinn) was changed to Mittwoch, this bishop managed to remove all the Norse gods’ names from the name of days. Týsdagr became Þriðjudagr (the third day, counting from sunday), Oðinsdagr became Miðvikudag, Þorsdagr became Fimmtudagr (the fifth day), and Freyjudagr became föstudagr (fasting day), but enough history for now. Walking around town, led me to Antikbúðin. I can’t walk by antique shops – perhaps it’s an old habit, or it’s in my spine or my genes or something – I need to check if they have some old (usable) camera equipment. I love old, usable, cameras. The owner, a lady in her fifties or so, was very nice so I stopped and talked for 15 minutes or so before asking where I could get a good coffee. She recommended Súfistinn kaffihús 100 meters down Strandgötu (they even burn their own coffee, so it’s fresh and tasty). Having a caffé latte here, I found no open wifi, and asking the guy by the next table (the one with the PC) I found that the network had gone offline around the moment I came, so it’s probably my fault that as well.

A short note about Iceland and perhaps Reykjavík and drinking water. The tap water here is crystal clear. Don’t buy water bottles – it really is no point. Instead of fresh water you get worse water to far a higher price. If you’re sufficiently paranoid about bugs and so on not to trust me, well, you’re on your own.

Back in Reykjavík, I went to this place Babalú (in Skólavörðstígur) that Hildigunnur had recommended. I was a little sceptical about it, having googled it and seen it being mentioned several places as a gay bar. I don’t have much against gay places, but I think some gay bars can seem to overdo stuff a wee bit, stuff that isn’t really my cup of tea. Now, this place is nice with old second-hand furnisher (yay! respatex!), old (homemade?) bookshelves with (mostly) quite bad books (lots of Stephen King). Turn it into a bookcrossing zone and it’ll be far better.

Last night I went to a place called Kaffíbarinn, a nice and somehow artistic place, I found it strange to see a rainbow flag in the bar, but unlike other bars I’ve been to with similar effects, this is certainly not a gay bar. Babalú didn’t have a flag, though, but the bartender was a live one, so a flag wasn’t really needed. Currently old fifties jazz is  on and I’ll probably be having another beer before leaving

For once, I walked by Prikið. I was there last night and around eleven, a guy came in and gave a DVD disc to the lady behind the bar. She turned down the light and put it on and most of the tourists fled. I came to understand that Sunday nights are movie nights, and generally not Hollywood blockbusters. Last night’s movie was The fearless vampire killers. I wouldn’t call it a B movie – you’ll need to move a little further out in the alphabet – but that’s nice. I recommended Himmel og helvete for the next Sunday and promised to find a copy. I don’t think Øyvind Vennerød‘s family is likely to sue me for showing his this hilarious attempt of an anti-drugs-propaganda movie on a bar.

Walking on, I found myself by Alþingi, the Icelandic parliament and a place called Posthúsið Vinbar. While early for wine, their menu looked fine. I ordered a lobster sandwich and got it served with chips. What is it with Iceland and chips anyway? This is almost as bad as Scotland, where I once was served Lasagne with chips and my friend was served Dill with her dessert. No lemon balm, nonono, Dill! That Dill episode was on the most expensive and “luxurious” restaurant at Bowmore Hotel in Bowmore, Islay, Scotland. Don’t go there! If hungry in Bowmore, you should rather go to the café in Lochside Hotel – they don’t serve anything fancy, and you’ll get as much chips you can eat, but it’s OK. And when you get tired of chips, you can try the little Indian restaurant, Taj Mahal in Shore Street. Ask for Madras or stronger, they normally don’t use much peppers. But enough about Scotland. Luckily Iceland isn’t that bad, but still I wonder if they will serve me extra chips if I order chips alone. Now, this food looks well enough, but it tasted less. Not that it was very expensive, about 2000 krónur for food and drinks, but I didn’t like it too much, and I won’t really recommend it. It doesn’t help much that the place smells of scented candles.

Letting my feet steer the way led me westwards through (mostly) narrow streets with the typical Reykjavík houses in all colours imaginable. Near Bárugötu, I even saw this purple one!

Back in miðbær, Peikð was full of people and not so full of empty seats, so I went on 15 meters up Laugavegur to Kofi Tómasar frænda. I first thought that meant “Cousin Thomas’ café”, but as Hildigunnur pointed out, I was quite wrong. The name is taken from the Icelandic translation of the book Uncle Tom’s cabin or, Life Among the Lowly by Harriet Beecher Stowe.

After two Lattes and blogging this went to that other bookshop in Hvervisgötu (number 16). It’s smaller than the one I mentioned the other day, but looks almost as messy. Unfortunately it was closed, so I’ll just try again later.

Thinking about those (probably) American tourists in their heavy winter clothing, I guess shepherding them to the marked to the horse meat department would be nice, just to see their reaction (did you know the last horse slaughterhouse in the USA was closed by court order back in 2007?). For those of you who haven’t tasted horse meat, I’d highly recommend it. I’d put it somewhere in between beef and reindeer – yummy.

Back at Prikið again, I discovered the backyard was painted with nice graffiti. A guy was even working on a piece when I came by. Another thing I haven’t noticed earlier, is that there’s a blackboard for tagging in the toilet. So, even with a place with lots of graffiti artists, the toilet is clean, save for the blackboard.

I kept trying to make MMS work with this temporary Icelandic subscription, and logged into tal.is to see if I could find anything there. Finding the web page was in Icelandic only slows down things a wee bit, and I yet haven’t found much about that. I had to smile when I came across the name under which the subscription was registered. It seems the guy in the shop has given me a new name and all – instead of asking, he just registered me as “Utlendingur Ljósmyndari” (foreign photographer – I usually carry a camera) and a fictional national identification number and ditto email and mailing address.

Walking around in Reykjavík is strange and somehow depressing. Some houses are old and shabby, just looking into a backyard from Laugavegur can show decay. Prior to the market crash, there were lots of building projects here. Some still are in the works, but very slowly. Some have even been abandoned. Hildigunnur told me some of the older houses were bought by people for them to fall apart so they could be replaced by modern buildings. One rather new building I passed had large stone tiles falling off its facade, potentially hurting or even killing people passing by. When the flat owners tried to have it fixed, no one could trace who actually built the building in the first place, much like the owners of the ferry Scandinavian Star were never found when the ship caught fire and 158 people were killed. Somehow they may have found a solution, since I saw a guy on a lift working on it the other day. But then – if the tiles continue to fall off, the whole facade is likely to need replacement, which won’t come cheap.

Going by Kolaportið, the weekend flea market mentioned yesterday to look around and see if I could find anything more interesting. I bought some more dried fish and even found found some kæstur hákarl, fermented shark – if people here actually eat that, the least I can do is to taste it.

I seem to have forgotten to show pictures of Prikið. This place deserves a black and white picture. The place is protected by preservation laws, so they can’t change anything apart from some stuff like new loudspeakers and so on. The service is, as mentioned earlier, quite variable, but mostly good. Their website shows an old couple, which matches the interior here, but not really the clientele, which are mostly people of all ages with younger people (20-25ish) at night. First time I was here, they were playing Edit Piaf and other fifties’ music, but it seem to vary a lot. Nice place!

Back at the hotel after being to Kolaportið, I’m still amazed by the place. It’s a true mess, somehow like the bookshop I mentioned the other day, but this place has everything. Second hand clothing, books, toys, junk, more junk, fresh fish, harðfiskur. I didn’t find any hákarl, but I’ll walk by tomorrow if they’re open. I bought a bunch of dried steinbítur - seawolf and some other types, a some old postcards for my colleague Alice (she collects them) and a three-volume collection Icelandic sagas, way more than the old ones I have back home. Seems I’ll be needing another course in Icelandic to get through them, but anyway, they look good, which is half the fun. This market really doesn’t fit into the western Europe as I know it, but then, neither does Reykjavík, so I guess it’s about the same. So, now, with enough dried fish to feed a small family and sufficient enough to scare half of western (read posh) Oslo’s population, I guess it’s time to stop blogging and get out in the sun while it’s still up. Yr.no reports 1o-ish degrees and a fresh breeze of 9m/s.

Oh, by the way, last night I saw some TOURISTS dressed like it was December or January, wearing thick winter jackets and gloves. And it wasn’t one or two, it was like a travelling group. It was windy and perhaps 5-6 degrees, but I’d love to see those tourists up here when the winter comes around for real. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera up then – it really was hilarious. I guess you must be from the southern US or something to dress up like that.

A small note should be given about the “open” Internet hotspots in Iceland. The ones hosted by Vodafone are open only for certain types of traffic, like HTTP, IMAP, POP-3 etc, and the traffic seems to be proxied through hotspot.vodafone.is, 213.213.135.228, meaning all traffic is probably logged somewhere. Traffic to typical proxy ports like 8080, 3128 etc is blocked. For those out there that dislike others reading your email, I’d recommend tunneling traffic through ssh or using other encrypted links like SSL or TLS. Don’t trust governments or Internet companies, even in small countries full of honest people.

Another thing needs to be said. Reykjavík, in my opinion, is certainly to be named a city. Not by its size, 120 000 inhabitants or 200 000 in the greater Reykjavík, but for its cultural income. Thomas Hylland Eriksen, professor of social anthropology at the University of Oslo, once said that Tromsø is Norway’s smallest storby, literally “big town” in Norwegian, but meaning city. Tromsø, with its 65 000 inhabitants should hardly be regarded as a city by international standards, but because of its cultural importance and perhaps just the feel of the place. So long that the same rules apply to Reykjavík, it’s definitely a city. (Perhaps not the most important of blog texts, but I just wanted to say it…)

See the gallery below for some pictures from the market.

Now, that was upon time, and a wee bit cheaper than back home, haircut 4200 krónur and then another 6840 for shampoo, conditioner and some styling stuff, all from KMS. Back home, that’d probably cost at least the double of that, probably more.

Wanting to follow Hildigunnur’s advice of visiting Grái kötturinn (the gray cat), I eventually found it here, across the road from the national theater. A note stuck to the door, however, informed visitors that the store was lokað vegna viðhalds, closed for maintenance. Looking in there, saw one of the nicest cafés I’ve seen so far, perhaps only three tables, and two or three shelves of books, much like a miniature library café. I hope I can get a chance to visit that place.

Still hungry, I ended up at Prikið again for today’s Tilboð 1, “Akureyrar Tribute – Hamborgari m/Frönskum, beikoni, osti, bernaisesósu + franskar & gos”, that is a burger with fries, bacon, cheese and bearnaise souse(!) served with fries and soda. Whoever got the idea of putting fries into the burger, or pour Bearnaise souse over it, I don’t know. It wasn’t bad, but then, it wasn’t really good either. The service at this place is highly variable – this time they forgot to bring cutlery – but a full stomach for 1000 krónur isn’t bad.

Back at the hotel now, having bought some harðfiskur, dried fish, which is a common snack in Iceland and parts of Norway. In eastern Norway, where I’m from, it is generally frowned upon because of the smell (read “stench”), but I find it good

History says once Iceland had large forests of birch, forests that disappeared when people settled and started cutting them down. As it had probably taken hundreds or thousands of years for them to grow, the climate was too tough for them to just grow back up as would happen most other places in Europe. It seems Iceland also has its own species of the Rowan tree, with bark almost like that of a birch.

roy