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.

Last night I found this wine bar. If you walk from the city centre to Alþingi, there’s a wine bar just behind that. As mentioned earlier, there really is no reason to go to Pósthúsið, even though they call it a wine bar. Rather walk in the street on the left side of Alþingi and at the next crossing, turn left, walk 20 meters and Vínbarinn is on your right hand side. The bar is yet the most posh bar I’ve been to up here, and I was afraid this might be a problem (I’m not posh). After tasting a few wines (yes, you can actually taste the wine before deciding on a single glass, she even opened a bottle to let me taste that), I ended up tasting what she named as their most expensive wine (at least per glass). This one, the full name being Casa Lapostolle Clos Apalta 2001, was better than most wines I’ve tasted. It was very rich and tasted earth and lava and perhaps some crowberries and I don’t know. The price was 2300 krónur a glass (NOK 110 or EUR 12,70), but after tasting it, I decided it was worth it. The waitress actually asked me twice if I really wanted it. As it turned out, the bottle, which was the last, was almost empty so I got something like 2/3 of a glass for 1000 krónur. Not bad! Later, today, I tried to find it on Rikið and later Vinmonopolet without much luck, so if anyone (Hildigunnur? Jón?) knows where I can find this and who I may have kill first, please tell.

Today started with another late breakfast at Babalú. (That place is great! I know I’ve said it earlier, but it can be repeated once or twice.) After that, I went to this city walk / theatre thing. It took a little more than an hour, a walk through certain streets in town and stopping every now and then to listen to the actor that led the show. In his introduction, he asked, in Icelandic, if there were any foreigners in the crowd, which created a little laugh. He looked like a little oops came to his face, but I had raised my hand already, so he just switched language and repeated most of the intro in English. We were shepherd around town and he (the one with the microphone) stopped every now and then to tell us stories, stories I somehow doubt is in any history book around. In the house in the back, there were people posing in different settings (too bad that’s not clearly visible on the picture) and he was talking about this farm that was down the road and the insufficiency of food for the poor and that one didn’t need to eat that much, just a little, but when Famine comes around (I think that’s what he meant, it was an Icelandic word, and I’ve forgot it), you’ll die. Keeping on telling stories, walking around, we came to a small house where we went in and saw the three sisters living there (the oldest had a habit of visiting the soldiers by the docks and… uh.. so…). Then up to Laugavegur, where the actor started raving around yelling at tourists and businessmen that did what they could to hide. He kept on, yelling out how brilliant Laugavegur had always been and at this display window (no shop now, there’s an old car parked inside) he told us there had been a brilliant club or bar. There were Mannequins on display, or so it seemed at once until they started to dance crazily, and then, suddenly to stop again.

At several places, like this, other actors were placed “on view”, some about stories were told, but most without. Behind this old and rather run-down house, a princess (or what else could it be?) was posing insecurely, moving her dress around, lifting it here and there. No story was given to this, just a visual effect. Walking further, we went through a kindergarten of sorts (with three old ladies playing around like kids) where we were told how he (the actor) had had so much fun with his friend (what’s-his-name) and .. well … very nice .. at nights .. erm … we must go on… This lead us to Skólavörðstígur, where, at some stairs, a choir was singing and somehow falling asleep and then to wake up (except her that was on the bottom that looked pretty much asleep all the time). Being led futher down Skólavörðstígur, the actor started jumping around crazily, startling even more tourists and businessmen, and doing some rather nice acrobatics before suddenly stopping and changing shoes to some that were placed on a bench. Following him, him dancing down to Laugavegur like Charlie Chaplin, we were met by music, something like brass musicians trying hard to sound evil, which worked well. Then, after a little speech, we were led into the second floor (or is that first floor? up one from ground level, anyway) and given pancakes with sugar and some cakes and coffee. The place was pretty crowded and after 10 minutes or so, we were asked to go down and out the backyard, where a concert was held. Some Icelandic classics and some more. Just 3-4 songs and then, goodbye. So far, this has been a most eventful day

At this point I feel a real idiot being Norwegian today. There are hordes of drunk football supporters in town. Football supporters are bad for a start and they don’t get any better if they go to another country with half the prices for alcohol. Let’s just home Iceland wins this match - ÁFRAM ÍSLAND.

It seems the Icelandic team did a good job – Norway started out well and scored early, but Iceland took it up. Iceland was pushing all the way and would probably have won if they had played the ball better. A draw was good for Iceland and disaster for Norway, ruining their hopes for the world cup.

roy

Last night, there was a concert at Prikið, starting off with a guy from XXX Rottweiler. There were two rappers and it was quite good. I tried to take some pictures but very low light and a rapper not really standing still is no good combination. This was taken at ISO 3200, pushing the old EOS 20D far too long with the EF 10-22 at 10mm f/3,5 at 1/3 second, and this is one of the better ones. After the dogs were done, Helgi Valur and band stepped on stage. See the (external) web gallery for some pics. The pictures are all licensed under a Creative Commons license.

Back at Prikið, I met Helgi and his band and got some nice feedback for my pictures. He seemed positively surprised by the choice of license, asking me if I knew about Copyleft, and I assured him I did. We talked a little and they left to join to some TV show (as guests) later tonight. I forgot to ask which channel that was, but I watch TV every leap year or so, and my Icelandic isn’t much better than it was yesterday, so I doubt I’d bet much out of it anyway.

There’s another rather big difference between Reykjavík and perhaps the whole of Iceland as compared to Oslo/Norway. At cafés, there seems to be CCTVs everywhere, even small takeaways, perhaps excluding the toilets. Whether this is due to state regulations or just lack of laws of privacy, I don’t know. Now, surveillance increasing in Norway as well [1] [2], but mostly those are illegal ones. Surveillance in the scale of what’s being done here can’t be possible if it were illegal. Perhaps Eva Joly and her economic crime team could have had an easier job if if there were audio-enabled CCTVs installed in Alþingishúsið, but obviously that’s not how things work.

The weather forecast from yr.no is mostly wrong. They have been reporting rain for almost a week, and we’ve hardly had a drop. The temperature has dropped a little (8-9˚C now), but that doesn’t stop cafés and restaurants to leave their doors open. It’s obvious Icelanders are more used to this chill than I am (and I am Norwegian for all that takes, perhaps except for the classic blue eyes, the blond hair and the hateful look towards non-white people).

Today the Reykjavík dance festival started and tomorrow is a theatre setup, walking through town (actually it was one today as well that started 17:00, but I missed that). I guess a short trip to Kolaportið tomorrow after breakfast and then to this theatre, starting off at Laugavegi 22 (at the corner of Klapparstígur) and walking through town. After that, just relax and perhaps try to see if Prikið is showing tomorrow’s football match between Iceland and Norway. It’d be great if Iceland wan this, but I think I’ll need somewhere to hide if they do. Shouting ÁFRAM ÍSLAND around a bunch of drunk Norwegians.

roy

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

Incidentally, as Tor Åge Bringsværd pointed out in his book Samtaler med en svart hund (ISBN: 82-05-31127-7), the word amateur descends from the Latin word Amare, to love. In his book, Bringsværd insists that he still is an amateur, and will (hopefully) remain one since he writes for the love of writing, not for any eventual money. I cannot but agree (actually, at the age of 16 or so, I printed my first business cards and entitled myself “Amatørfotograf”, amateur photographer).

As some of you may have noticed I use different naming schemes for Icelanders and others. As I mentioned Jón Ragnarsson, a person I’ve never met, by his first name, I still write about Bringsværd with his family name. The reason is Jón, like most (but not all) Icelanders doesn’t have a family name. Iceland still keeps up the tradition of naming their children after their father’s name (or sometimes their mother’s name in case the father is unknown or if the mother or child(ren) have chosen to break contact), a patronymic or matronymic. If I were to address him by his father’s name, like most or all of international media is doing, that would be a serious insult. This also means people don’t really change name when they get married. And, yes, their phone catalog is sorted by their first name.

New gallery for today, this one in black and white, because I felt like it (or perhaps because the pictures were taken inside and I don’t like that tungsten colours, it gets dull whatever I do, so it’s better this way). Oh, by the way, the service here at Babalú is great. Glenn (left) walks around refilling coffee (and cream) and and keeps the place cozy. So, if in town, don’t just stay in Laugavegur, this is just two minutes walk up Skólavórðstigur (up towards Hallgrímskirkju).

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

On my way down into miðbær, a cyclist came by with studded tires – I wonder if he may have used them as all-year-tires, but then, even here, that’s not really necessary, nor is it a good idea.

Back at Prikið again, waiting for today’s offer #2, a Dion pepper steak of sorts. After 45 minutes, I asked the guy in the bar if he had slaughtered the cow yet, and he gave me a beer for free and apologized a lot. Today’s offer wasn’t too bad, were it not for the leatherish quality of the meat, so I guess it’s better to stick with simpler stuff here. As always, the service in this places certainly varies, but I still find it a nice place

Weather forecast for today from yr.no wasn’t too bad, but it seems the rest of my vacation here might be rainy.