In it!

Today I was putting my misfitted topping over a peach cobbler that I was making because I had to, because I had all these peaches that would spoil if I didn't make a cobbler immediately and meanwhile, this achingly sweet version of an Edna St. Vincent Poem sung by Deb Talan came over the internet radio and life altogether just made me swoon.

Here is ESVM's poem. Cobbler is above.

(but you should really hear it through Deb Talan).

I was overcome with the feeling that sometimes you really are just in the middle of it and you are the gladdest thing.

Have some!

Here are two takeaway products from my trip abroad.

1)I used to think that Icelandic yogurt was just another fancy food store gimmick to make people feel good. I had Skyr (yogurt) in iceland and it was so thick and smooth. I'll say it. It was better than the yogurt I usually eat.

So many yogurts in the U.S. are made lowfat, rendering them less creamy and a little chalky. Skyr is naturally fat free and doesn't leave me wondering what it would taste like with a little milk fat in it. I'd recommend Skyr to you no matter what the back of the container said, but I can't help noting when there is a good nutrition facts-good taste anomaly. Skyr is expensive at the Whole Foods, I can't get around it. But, it is a real treat and what a yogurt should be. (Not to mention all the nostalgia it fills me with!)


2)Norwegians eat chocolate bars to keep themselves going. I admire this about them. In addition, most of the time it is milk chocolate. Really good milk chocolate (not always an easy thing to find). I haven't found Norwegian chocolate here, but luckily I brought some back and luckily my parents are in Norway and I put in a request for a small supply.

Living off the Norwegian Land (Part 2: Fisk!)

One of the most invigorating parts of my vacation was when I went fishing. I strapped a knife to my belt, put on a life vest and headed to the boat. SEM knew what she was doing and GA and I were ready to learn. We put the oars in the water and once we had a good pace we put in the otter trawler.

The otter is this little plank of wood with a long fishing line with 10 hooks and flies coming off of it. The line is connected to a piece of metal that pivots backs and forth so that it can change directions. As long as someone keeps rowing it looks like there are 10 flies dancing across the water. Irresistible. We made loops between the two island in the lake hoping something would bite. Sure enough, one did.

GA was holding the line and it started to pull. I was rowing at the time and to keep the fish on the line it didn't matter where I took us as long as I kept moving and avoided running ashore. SEM winded it slowly back in, being sure not to slice her hand with one of the other hooks. GA scooped it up with a net and brought into the boat. Finally, we had it! SEM took it off the hook, squeezed hard and clubbed it with an old wooden mallet designed just for this (sorry, there is no other way to describe what happened).

The otter went back in, GA guided it, I rowed and SEM pulled in the fish. After two more catches I was ready to change roles. I pulled in a fish of my own, unhooked it and then killed it.

We caught a total of 6 trout that day. After we anchored our little row boat and tied it to the dock I learned how to clean them too. Sem carefully and craftily showed me how to gut the fish. I slid the knife on my belt out of its sheath, cut the fish open and emptied it out.

I wasn't sure how I would feel about this whole excursion. I felt a little squeamish and bad at the though of deceiving and killing something. But, the more I thought about it, I felt that I needed to do it. I needed to be a part of the whole (mild water) hunting process and know how it feels.

It took three of us to catch one fish. We were tired and had worked hard and for hours. I felt truly powerful. I had to use the power of my arms, stomach and legs to keep us going in the rowboat. I almost squeezed a fish to death because I didn't want to screw up when I clubbed it. I slit the fish open and made it ready to eat. I helped feed my friends. We didn't need any middle men. It was SEM, GA and I that took care of it on this day.

(To be historically accurate I should note that we had a second excursion that day to catch our 6th and final fish. JB helped to bring this one in.)


Below are a few very short clips of demonstrations the start of cleaning a fish and taking the skin of in order to eat it (please note KH having her way with the fish behind SEM's slow speed demo.)

Eating off the Norwegian Land: (Part 1: the Berry Edition)

These days eating directly from the earth usually means visiting a farm with a "pick-your-own" crop; shopping at the farmers market or growing a few vegetables as experiments in the backyard, or on the deck in pots or a little patch of well fertilized dirt. This is a glorious and satisfying way to get my food, but, never before have I just been able to feel like the casual roaming reindeer eating what the land provided for me!

One of the most magical parts of the second half of my vacation was the time that I spent in a cabin in rural Norway. Just up from a glacial fed lake that provided the drinking, washing, and swimming water, the cabin was our cozy home for 6 days.

There were two things that covered the ground: Blueberry bushes and reindeer moss. Luckily we were there at the height of the blueberry season. (Reindeer moss is actually a slow growing lichen that has a misty green hue that makes everything look enchanted.)

We had blueberries for breakfast. We put blueberries in our cocktails. We made blueberry galettes and blueberry crumble. We ate blueberries on the way to the lake. We ate blue berries on the way to the outhouse. And never did I feel like I had too many!

On our last day we took a long, dramatic and beautiful hike. Like good Norwegians we had chocolate bars with us for energy and morale. However, there was nothing better to keep me going than the occasional mountain raspberry that we found along the way. It is hard to tell, but here GA is picking one.

Bright pink-red berries peeked out of bushes on the sides of mountain cliffs. They may be the sweetest, softest berries I have eaten.

Oh, Norway, I’ll eat your berries anytime!

Hot diggity dog!

There is a little place to stop in between the United States and the rest of Europe called, Iceland. The landscape is stark; the blue lagoon is hot; the population is small; the capital is small; the puffins are small.

I had two days and I was focused on two things: baby puffins and hot dogs. In my pre-trip research I learned that while we were arriving a week after pride in the only country with an openly gay head of state that at least we were in time for watching puffins!
I also learned that among various forms of putrefied shark meat this little country was known for a delicious hot dog. This information proved to be the anchors of our loose agenda.

Hot dogs in Europe are different. They are crunchier and spicier and well topped. In Iceland the absolute best place for one of these deluxe dogs is Bæjarins Beztu, a metal stand down by the water. The classic is served up with a dark & sweet mustard, ketchup, fried onions and raw onions on a bun. In 48 hours, more than one trip was made here. What tasty and satisfying food which proved to be the cheapest meal on my vacation!

It was only upon going through customs on the way home that we learned Icelandic hot dogs are one of the few meat products the discerning U.S. of A. will not confiscate.
I really blew that opportunity. If anyone is going…pick me up a pack?






(don’t worry, I also went on a puffin watch and got the best view of the city while watching the struggle that is the flight of the odd little puffin. Two members of our group even enthusiastically ate puffin at a local restaurant. I understand that it was very smoked.)