marshmallow lessons

I was one of the fortunate invitees to a rather spectacular dinner on Saturday night, at the now famous blue house. One of the temporary house residents A, a restaurant owner from Germany, had been in Iceland for the autumn lamb slaughter season, learning about where exactly the food's coming from. He'd also started producing a new lamb sausage, a perfect marriage between the texture and seasoning of the best dried German sausages and the smoky Icelandic lamb flavor. He' flew back to his restaurant a few days ago, so Saturday was his final hurrah of sorts.

On Saturday evening I walked to the Blue House in the velvety darkness, and as I neared the house the smell of delicious roasted things wafted down the street, carried by the snappy breeze pouring off the sea. Inside the house it was steamy and warm and full chatter as A put together the final touches on the appetizers. We sat down soon later, the sixteen of us crowded into the living room, friends and new additions alike.

To start, tender shrimp on bread with a homemade cocktail sauce that disappeared quickly from in front of this enthusiastic crowd, and then came the flavors I'd been smelling down the street. Roast pork, roasted cauliflower all toasted on the ends, herbed Bavarian-style dumplings poured over with sauce from the roasted meat, and a creamy thin-slice cucumber salad to offset the richness of the other flavors. Absolutely divine- decadent and infinitely edible, reminiscent of so many good times in Germany but done in a way that managed to be strangely light on the stomach. Of course we all ate too much but still managed space for the skyr tart that hid a treasure trove of booze-soaked cookies in the bottom. Even the Argentinian priest had to try some of that one.

And then, time for the after party even though we were all slightly comatose from the deliciousness. We pushed the tables aside and on came the SingStar, heavy on the German tunes since so large a proportion of the attendees were German. Nothing starts a party quite like disco-era Eurovision. Once everyone was warmed up enough we went outside to the grill-pit where a snappy fire had gotten started, over which we toasted marshmallows. The bag of marshmallows I'd bought were made by Haribo, and since apparently Europeans didn't grow up toasting marshmallows, the bag had printed a series of drawings to show how to do it. I had to explain to the assembled multitude how close to the fire to hold it, the proper brown-and-bubbly look to be going for, that a bit of steam is a good thing, that it's best when the thing starts to get misshapen, but beware of that hot sugar.

As we crowded around the fire, the massive darkness above us lit up with northern lights. They've been a rare sight this year so everyone marveled appropriately before turning back to the cozy light of the fire, the hiss of toasting sugar, and the friendliness that comes from a group of people from all over the world, somehow brought together on a gorgeous night on this strange rock of an island.

not mourning the departure

After our first attempt to hail the departure of McDonalds failed, S was determined to try again, so we went again a few days later and braved the line for a final "góðborgari" for me and a McFish for him. As always, the food tasted exactly like the McDonalds in France or Canada or America (the only locations I've tried it) and came in the exact same packaging as always. Nothing special there except for the line snaking out the door and the trail of cars idling for the drive-through window.

The replacement joint opened only hours after McDonalds closed, so one week later we went to sample the new wares. For proper comparison purposes, I ordered the same thing on the menu as before, still called "góðborgari" (apparently the Icelandic names weren't copyrighted by McD's), still located in the same spot on the light-up menu, still without explanation of what it contained. The new joint doesn't have fish burgers so S had to go with something else, breaking the continuity.

In terms of décor, it seems that all they did was swap out the sign, and order a bunch of round brown stickers with the new logo that they slapped over all the spots where the golden arches were. Everything that was yellow and red before is now brown (brown shirts, brown writing, brownbrownbrown), but otherwise they're doing their best to replicate the feeling. As many of the names as they can are almost the same (McFlurry is now Flörri or something that sounds pretty much the same if you say it in Icelandic), and the burgers are still served in boxes like the McD's style, although I confess to being less than charmed by their graphic design. The boxes are covered in neon pink and blue squiggles with one of the new brown stickers slapped on top. Still, they're a domestically produced package so yay for that I suppose.

Foodwise, it's a mixed bag. The burger is undeniably that Icelandic flavor of patty, detectable upon first bite. The sauce was also pure Icelandic burger-sauce, the kind you can buy in squeezebottles at any quickieshop. The one positive change in the burger department is that the vegetables were recognizable as what they were- crisp real lettuce and a properly flavorsome tomato. Still, would I go out and pay for this in the rather inconvenient location when Búllan is so much closer and at least makes efforts at secret sauce? Probably not. I don't love burgers-in-boxes that much, and the fries weren't superlative in any way either.

I also tried a chocolate shake since I don't remember the last time I had one and that was so wretchedly non-chocolate flavored that I gave up after drinking about a quarter of it. So much for brand new excitement. I think I'll save up my kronurs and go somewhere that's got a worthwhile menu like Basil and Lime, where I went with a friend on Saturday. Go, get the lobster pasta and order extra bread to soak up that ridiculously decadent cream sauce. Don't bother with Metro unless you're going for the I-am-living-modern-history angle.

two ways

Last Saturday I met one of the very few traffic engineers in Iceland, and we spent some time discussing how they're in the process of overhauling the timing of all the lights in town so that certain corridors have the "green wave" where you can hit greens all the way along. This was happy news, since only a few months ago I'd been having a conversation about how the number and timing of the lights in town can make geographically close places seem very far away. I'd actually done a mini-project just after that where I took a camera-phone picture of every red light I waited at over the course of a week's worth of commuting. I missed a few (my cameraphone is slow, I was of course focusing on driving, and sometimes they turned green only a second after I'd stopped), but it still shows the variety and frequency to some extent. You can see how the Búllan left-turn stop is a frequent appearance, but also how the view at some lights make it no hardship to wait. Still, I'm happy to see that these changes the traffic engineer mentioned have started to make a noticeable difference, and I'd be interested to see if a week of red lights in a few months (when there's enough light to repeat this project) would yield the same number of photos over a week.

To contrast with this, I occasionally go for the 40 minute walking commute that I've mentioned before. My most common route passes my local corner bakery, then heads over the pond and down Laugavegur, ending on the rather ordinary office-building street where I work. I've continued the walking commute in spite of the season change, taking another route in the darkness of Icelandic November. In the dark the appeal is different- the route I take goes along a street displaying views to the left of downtown, and passes a number of small houses where I can see people reading the paper and drinking coffee in their kitchens. I've also found other mysterious corners of Reykjavík, like the location of the handicapped association swimming pool, and hidden gardens located in the center of downtown. To follow the whole trip from one morning a month ago, check it here.

So now you see how most of my days start and end, a string of red lights or of uninspired architecture framed by what is still some seriously memorable landscape. Could always be worse.

Iceland escape

So, the reason I was in Norway a few weeks ago was to start the next phase of the Norwegian project in Trondheim. My colleague had told me that I'd like the place, and my Norwegian friend K had lived there for three years, coming away with many good things to say. After my time in Oslo I was starting to think that Norway was a rather uncolourful and serious place, but my time in Trondheim has rather changed that perspective.

It's one of the oldest cities in Norway, with structures going back to the time of Iceland's founding a thousand years ago, and it's obviously been a significant place since then. The starting point is a great location, on the coast and ringed with mountains, laced through with a wide river that meanders around the center of the town. Then there are the buildings which span generations of architectural styles, painted in the colors of Indian spices- the deep yellow of turmeric, the rusted rich red of tandoori spice, the pale fresh green of the cucumber yogurt sauce, and the deep brown of curry. Finally, since it's a university town there's a special fizz of youth that makes the place a bit more spunky.

Some more details:

Getting there and back

Trondheim's got its own airport with an Akureyri-style landing strip, so the arrival offers a sweep over the town, and then some disconcertingly close-to-the-water flying before touchdown. From there the easiest way to get to town is the SAS bus. Cabs are expensive and require pre-arranging with others and the train only goes once an hour. The bus stops frequently along the way into town, a detail that was explained to me by some friendly locals in the next seat from me.

On the way back I also took the bus but I was not fully clear on where it picked up so I ended up getting to the airport only a half hour before my flight. Thanks to SAS's excellent self-service check-in and the extremely short security line this was actually plenty of time.

Staying in Trondheim

My colleagues and I were fortunate enough to be staying at the Hotel Britannia, a 100-year old establishment in the center of town. When I trundled my suitcase towards the place I was a bit surprised to see a red carpet and a horde of teenagers hovering near the door since it looked like a rather grand place. Turns out the reason was because Beyonce, Jay-z and posse were there for a student festival concert later that day. The hotel was small enough that we kept running into people from the group, and left for dinner through a gauntlet of paparazzi and fans who were disgruntled that we weren't Somebody Famous.

In most respects this is your standard Norwegian hotel- crappy overboiled coffee at breakfast, variable rooms (mine was splendid, a colleague got one that wasn't quite so nice) but the real selling point, aside from the grand public areas and central location, is the spa. It just opened this year and contains more variation in sauna than I've ever seen before. There's a hot-stone-seat sauna, a eucalyptus sauna, a burnt-essential-oils sauna, an ice fountain, foot baths, and a wonderful jacuzzi with a ceiling sprinkled with constellations and a light that mimics the northern lights (of course on the northern side). Entrance is free for hotel guests so I went so frequently I never used the shower in my hotel room.

Good eating

I was surprised to find that Trondheim was bursting with excellent places to eat, so armed with suggestions from my friend K and a few other sources, we went forth to try as much variety as we could. The two important factors were a colleague that is not fond of fish (how does this happen to a seaside dwelling Icelander?) and another who brews his own beer and is extremely fond of sampling all that is obscure or IPA style. Here's where we went:

• Ai Suma: A short walk from the hotel, this place is decidedly a steakhouse with some peculiar decor that at least makes for a good start to the conversation. The wall we sat next to was covered in halved wine barrels, topped with a frilly gold crown molding. Further down the wall began to sprout white hands, and above us a clear plastic box housed a collection of table lamps. I chose the risotto scallops as my appetizer, a mouth-party that definitely put me in the right mood for the main course, a massive steak served with perfectly cooked potatoes and vegetables. The steaks there were much too large for any of us to finish but we all agreed that they were mostly excellent. One colleague would have preferred his steak to be a little less cooked.
• Dråpen: This one was a suggestion from my friend and required a bit more walking on a rather Icelandic-style evening (windy and wet). We were initially seated immediately next to the door on wobbly tables that got freezy when people arrived or departed, so we requested to move to a more cozy spot after appetizers. To start with I had the langoustine with accessories, which were all good flavors but I felt lacked cohesive working-together spirit. I like a dish where you can mash all the elements together and find that the sum is greater than the parts. This was not so- the caperberry had too much attitude to go with the delicate langoustine, and there was too much of the saffron mayonnaise to work with the amount of langoustine that had been served. I finished it feeling a bit sad. All was redeemed during the main course though, hot smoked reindeer slices with horseradish potatoes and a divine port-chocolate sauce. All three of us had ordered the same thing and all three of us were in ecstasies over the meal. For afters, I went with a coconut orange cake that rounded things off well, while my 2 colleagues asked the waiter for "strange beer" and were rewarded with two bottles of Russian mystery that pleased them well.
  
• Den Gode Nabo: This place was on the wish list of my beer-loving colleague who'd found positive reviews of the place and its vast selection of beers, so we waded through the night after our dinner at Dråpen. It's across the much-photographed old bridge, in the lower half of a building that's hanging directly over the river. The inside is a rambling warren of rooms, low ceilinged and drunken of floor, populated by roaring groups of student types, almost exclusively blonde and square-jawed. The first table we sat at gave us the distinct impression that we were either at sea or well into our cups- I sat leaning sideways while another guy was tipped acutely forward. We relocated to a cozier windowside seat with better foundations and enjoyed sampling their various wares. My colleague enjoyed selecting for us and came back with oddities such as a Scottish elderberry beer.
• Jonathon: The restaurant in the basement of my hotel had been recommended by a few people so I went with high hopes that were slightly dashed by their offhand treatment of me as a solitary diner. I waited for 15 minutes to be seated, and then was put at a seat in one of the quieter, emptier areas of the restaurant. I went with a final steak as my main course (continuing the theme) and while it was good, the overall impression was of a slight excess of salt, and inconsistently cooked veggies. Most were overcooked but the two asparagus spears were undercooked. At least the sauce was decent. I don't think I'll be returning there thought.
  

Exploring

Trondheim's happily compact, and the center of town is corralled by the river so it's easy to wander mapless and not find yourself in any trouble. I took a wander that started at the hotel, went down a large shopping street, detoured through some nice antique-looking alleys, paused at the lovely Nidaros cathedral, then along the riverbank, across the old bridge to inspect the world's first bicycle lift, through Bakklandet and across the bridge again, ending with an inspection of what the local H&M was carrying. All the right elements.

The cathedral is rather remarkable, first for its diminutive scale when compared to the vast antiquities in places like Paris, and second for the beautifully crisp carving on its facade. Maybe it's a harder type of stone they built with there, maybe it's due to the undoubtedly cleaner air there. Whatever the cause, it was a delightful building and I wished I could have gone inside. Moving on, the riverbank offered excellent panoramic views of the town as a whole, including the fort high on an opposite hill.

The old bridge is for pedestrians only, delivering yet another scenic overview of some of the older buildings that hover over the river on a forest of pilings. Just across it is the bicycle lift that saves cyclists from having to pedal up a particularly steep hill, something I had to photograph for my friend C, a bicycling blogger in Boston.

Then to the left where a street of short buildings was bursting with cafés and cozy little shops, most of which were closed by my dusk-time walk. It's one of the small frustrations of work travel in a particularly delicious place. I'm grateful for the opportunity to see these places and experience them from a more internal perspective as I meet and work with people who live there, but then I rarely am able to see the things that cause most people to visit a place. I've heard of the great museums in Trondheim and the extensive swimming pool complex but there was just no time for that. Our work's not done in Trondheim though, so I am hoping that in future visits I'll uncover more thrills in this charming town.