Beyond Skyr
by Tracey Middlekauff
originally published in Culture Magazine
I first meet eccentric Icelandic curd connoisseur Eirny Sigurdardottir on an intensely blustery afternoon in early November at her cosy and cheerful cheese shop Búrið, located in a small shopping center just off of Laugaveger, a main drag in downtown Reykjavik. Before I enter the shop, a check of the horizon, where dormant volcano Mt. Esja looms over the city, reminds me that this is no run-of-the-mill American strip mall.
While a native Icelander, Eirny spent her formative years in England and Edinburgh, as evidenced by her lilting Scottish burble, punctuated every so often with a colorful UK colloquialism. She comes by her love of stinky cheeses honestly. “My English stepfather always had a piece of cheese after dinner, mostly Stilton or Cheddar,” she says. “That’s a habit I still like to keep to this day.”
I
have come here at her invitation to attend her regular Friday
mini-market, a gathering of a handful of regional farmers and
producers. Along with tasting a selection of free range pork, smoked
lamb, and grass fed beef, she has predicted that on this day “we
will be in a Raclette mood.”
An
unseasonably intense, yet typically fickle, Icelandic storm, however
- winds so fierce that salt from the sea is flung violently
throughout the city, finding its way into eyes, hair, mouths, and
onto shop windows, where it sticks and lingers for days, a reminder
of the 2010 eruption of Eyjafjallajökull, when black volcanic ash
blanketed the city - has prevented the producers from making the
drive into Reykjavik, and so the market has been cancelled.
By
way of apology, Eirny showers me with an assortment of Icelandic
cheeses to take back to my hotel and taste: Isbui,
a washed-rind cow’s milk cheese, a black rind Gouda, and a
deep-veined Danish-style blue. To go with this, she gathers up a
selection of her own homemade jams - tart fig, sweet pepper, a
delicate pale pink rhubarb, and a rich Merlot, and then tasks me with
picking up three white-mold, soft ripened Icelandic cheeses -
Stori Dimon, Gulloster, and Kastali - at a nearby supermarket.
My assignment: when we next meet over a late dinner at popular
Reykjavik restaurant Grillmarkaðurinn
(Grillmarket), we will discuss my cheese tasting notes and Eirny will
attempt “to explain [to me] the strange thing that is the Icelandic
cheese industry.”
A
Cooperative Monopoly
Iceland
is home to roughly 300,000 people, yet the tiny dairy-mad population
manages to consume more cheese, butter, and milk per capita than most
other Western cheese-loving nations, including the United States. And
the lion’s share of that product comes from one company: MS Iceland
Dairies, which holds a whopping 97 percent of the country’s dairy
market share. A cooperative monopoly, MS Iceland is owned by the
nation’s 700-odd dairy farmers, who each hand over a predetermined
annual quota of their milk to the company to be turned into consumer
product.
To
a large extent, MS Iceland has had a hand in shaping the cheese
tastes of the nation. In the 1950s the outfit, which Eirny calls “an
amazing marketing company” looked to the U.S. and plastic
fermentation methods for its cheese making model, and set about
convincing the nation to eat the resulting relatively bland cheeses
with nearly every meal. And it worked - a mild gouda-type cheese,
known as “family cheese,” remains the company’s biggest seller.
Until
the 1980s, many foreign cheeses were banned from importation, and so
a taste for relatively mild cheese became the norm - odd when you
consider that the typical Icelander’s Viking ancestors once
subsisted on the likes of pungent fermented shark.
Once
the ban on foreign cheese was lifted, people gradually became less
suspicious of more complex cheeses - think Brie, various blues, and
cheddars. A recent MS Iceland re-branding campaign is both a response
to evolving tastes and an effort to help foster an interest in a
wider world of cheese. Case in point: “Ljotur,” which means “the
Ugly One,” a aptly-named pungent blue that has such an off-putting
appearance that, according to MS Iceland market executive Guðný
Steinsdóttir, people are often afraid to taste it during
in-store demonstrations.
MS
Iceland has also played a part in making skyr into a popular
convenience food. Perhaps the most iconic Icelandic dairy product,
skyr is mentioned in the Viking sagas from the year 1000. Low in fat
and high in protein, it has the consistency of a Greek yogurt, but
it’s technically a cheese.
And
until recently, eating it straight out of the container was not an
option. “It was inedible in the old days,” Eirny recalls. “It
was a solid mass, and when I was a kid you had to mix in cream and
sugar, and, if you were really
lucky, blueberries.”
Now
you can pick up a little tub of fruit-flavored MS Iceland skyr from
any supermarket; many Icelanders eat it for a quick lunch. Skyr also
shows up in a number of imaginative ways in restaurants around town,
particularly in desserts and cheesecakes. My two favorite skyr-based
dishes of the ones I sampled were a creamy spruce skyr ice cream
which I had as part of an Icelandic tasting menu at upscale
Reykjavik restaurant Fiskfelagid (Fish Company), and a selection of
flavored skyr mayonnaise dipping sauces - chili, truffle tarragon,
cilantro, basil, honey mustard - at the touristy, but well worth a
visit, Icelandic Fish & Chips.
Independent
Minded
MS
Iceland cooperative member farmers are free to do what they like with
their surplus milk, but thanks in part to strict industry regulations
it’s tough for a small producer to find the financial means to make
and sell their own product. In fact, as of this writing, two of the
five existing independent dairy producers in Iceland have ceased
operations.
The
three independents producers include Bio Bu, Iceland’s only organic
dairy; Fjoshornid (Cow Shed Corner), in eastern Iceland, where in the
summer visitors can purchase yogurt, feta cheese, beef, and what
Eirny calls “the best skyr in Iceland;” and Erpsstadir Farm, 90
minutes north of Reykjavik
Erpsstadir
Farm’s cheesemaker and farmer Þorgrímur Einar Guðbjartsson
explains that “small independent producers are challenged by the
very strict regulations we have in Iceland. For example, we are not
allowed to produce and sell unpasteurized milk products. This makes
it very difficult for some of the small producers to make cheese
because they cannot afford to buy a pasteurizer. ...
[It’s] quite sad.”
Þorgrímur
has managed to buck the trend thanks in part to the variety and
quality of his products. Along with ice cream, skyr, and cream, he
makes a number of cheeses (which Eirny stocks when available),
including Frændi, a Camembert-style cow’s milk cheese; Kumenoster,
his best-selling cheese, a Gouda-style semi-firm cheese that has a
subtly sweet quality when young, thanks to the addition of wild
cumin; and Galti, one of Eirny’s favorite Icelandic cheeses.
“It’s
a small bloomy-rind based on the French Chaorce,” she says. “It
is gorgeously runny on the outside with a dense chalky center. The
flavors are buttery mushroom, white pepper, and a slightly lemony
yoghurt tang. Yum.”
Þorgrímur
also produces what is arguably one of the most quirky candies ever
made: Skyr Konfect. Purposefully shaped like a cow udder, it’s
worth overcoming whatever reticence you may have about biting into a
candy shaped like a teat to taste the white-chocolate-covered sweet,
cheesecake-like skyr. “Skyr Konfekt reflects our desire to combine
a traditional product, skyr,with something new,” Þorgrímur says.
“We think the result is surprising and delightful!”
Another
business booster: Þorgrímur welcomes visitors to his farm in
the summer. “We have many, many visitors at Erpsstaðir during our
short summer. Our farm is on the main route to the West Fjords, so if
people haven't already found out about us at shops or restaurants in
Reykjavik, they will surely see us during their travels.”
Once
at the farm, visitors can buy ice cream, cheeses, skyr, cream or Skyr
Konfekt,check out the robotic milking machine in the viewing room, or
take a guided tour around the farm.
A
Culinary Tour
Two
days after our first meeting at Búrið, I meet Eirny at Grillmarket,
ostensibly to taste an off-menu cheese plate and alcohol pairing.
But things begin with a plate of rustic rye bread, butter, and coarse
Icelandic black sea salt. The daffodil-yellow Icelandic butter is so
colored thanks to the high levels of beta carotene in the grass
ingested by the free-roaming Viking cows. It is ever-so-slightly
sweet, and I imagine that I can taste a hint of the fresh Icelandic
grass. Grillmarket chef/owner Hrefna Rósa Sætran says, “I love
the Icelandic butter. That is probably the dairy product I use most
[in my cooking]. As well as serving it pure with bread, we clarify it
and use it for frying.”
As
we work our way through the menu - paper-thin beef carpaccio with
yuzu, a bright green salty dried fish, Asian-influenced crispy duck
salad, achingly fresh grilled red fish with snow crab, tender
Icelandic lamb - Eirny and I discuss the cheeses she gave me to try.
Of the three soft white-mould cheeses that I bought at a grocery
store, the nutty Stori Dimon is my favorite, while the Isbui, an MS
Iceland cheese made in the north of Iceland and based on the Danish
Danbo cheese, is my favorite from Búrið. Eirny concurs, citing its
slightly springy texture and meaty, herbaceous flavor.
“For
such a small country,” Eirny says, “we really have an amazing
quality of raw materials to work with, especially the milk from our
Viking cow.”
Our
cheese plate arrives, and thanks to Eirny I am already familiar with
two of the offerings - the Isbui and the Danish-style blue. There is
also a creamy MS brie called Dalabrie from Búðardalur, accompanied
with Búrið apple and rosemary jelly, pickled apricots, and a fig,
apple, and balsamic jam. At this point, my memory becomes a bit hazy,
as our server continues to pour generous amounts of 30-year port,
Sauterne, and Bjork, an Icelandic birch liqueur, to accompany our
cheese feast. While this particular cheese pairing incarnation is not
on the Grillmarket menu, Chef Hrefna says that an Eirny-curated
cheese board of some kind is always available.
Indeed,
most of the finer restaurants around Reykjavik offer some version of
an Icelandic cheese platter or appetizer of deep-fried
Camembert-style cheese, which I had with a raspberry dipping sauce
over lunch at Scandinavian Restaurant, followed by a soul-warming,
creamy traditional seafood stew.
But
eating out day after day in Iceland is an expensive endeavor, and
luckily there are a handful of shops where you can get everything
you’ll need to either cook up an authentic Icelandic meal at your
guesthouse or make a perfect picnic to take into the country. At Fru
Lauga, owner Arnar Bjarnarson stocks fresh produce and meats from all
around the country. “We focus on small, quality products from
farmers like skyr, cream, organic milk, a bit of cheese, and quite a
bit of ice cream, and leave out the mass produced, often sweetened
and colored products,” he says. And if you want to take a bit of
Iceland home with you, Arnar suggests picking up some local honey,
tea, or dried fish at his shop.
Across
town, at Ostabúðin, chef Jóhann Jónsson stocks a fabulous
selection of his own house-cured smoked meats - goose breast, goose
liver, lamb, pates - as well as hard-to-find (in Iceland) specialty
gourmet products. You can either opt for a stocked picnic basket, or
make your way to the back of the shop into the tiny cafe, as Eirny
and I did, for an affordable lunch of whatever is fresh that day. On
our visit, chef Johann was offering fish in a carrot and cumin broth.
After lunch, we browse the shelves, and Eirny gazes starry-eyed at
the selection of O & Co olive oils, tapenades and treats.
‘Sometimes in here I get shop envy,” she confides. “But I do
love my Búrið.”
Of
course having Eirny as my guide through the world of Icelandic cheese
has made my experience infinitely richer than it would have been
otherwise. Fortunately, over the summer, visitors to Reykjavik will
be able to benefit from her expertise as well, as part of her Búrið
Cheese School, when she will be offering twice-weekly 90-minute
classes on Icelandic cheeses. As well as learning about the history
of cheese and skyr in Iceland, guests will get to taste an assortment
of cheeses and other goodies during this lunchtime class.
“I’m
very excited about it!” she enthuses. “It’s basically a history
of my little country, how we’ve progressed, and how, in this harsh
landscape - we’ve survived!”
SIDEBAR
Restaurants:
Bæjarins
Beztu Pylsur (http://bbp.is/en/)
There’s
usually a line at this unassuming little hot dog stand, and it’s no
wonder - it’s a cheap and delicious lunch or snack. Get your lamb
dog with the works (in Icelandic “eina með öllu”): ketchup,
sweet mustard, fried onion (“Cronions”), raw onion, and remolaði,
a mayonnaise-based sauce with sweet relish.
Saegreifinn
(http://saegreifinn.is/)
Sure,
the Sea Baron has become a bit of a tourist draw since being featured
in U.S. travel programs, but don’t let that stop you from visiting.
The lobster soup is everything it’s cracked up to be - a buttery,
tomato-y broth flecked with bits of seaweed and loaded with juicy,
tender chunks of fresh Icelandic lobster.
Chef
Gunnar Karl Gíslason’s New Nordic restaurant is an essential
pilgrimage for the traveling gourmand. The menu is ever-changing and
always inventive, featuring unique Icelandic ingredients you won’t
find anywhere else - think sea buckthorn, pine, and vintage
angelica.
Islenski
Barinn (http://islenskibarinn.is/)
This
cozy spot specializes in traditional Icelandic comfort food. Stand
outs include the hearty lamb stew, the seafood stew with dark bread,
and the unbelievably juicy lamb sandwich. And to wash all that
rib-sticking food down? A Viking beer, of course.
HOTELS:
Snorri’s
Guesthouse (http://www.guesthousereykjavik.com/)
Cozy,
clean, affordable, and friendly, Snorri’s is located a short walk
from Reykjavik’s main shopping street. Each morning, host Magnus
sets out a complimentary traditional Icelandic breakfast - bread,
fruit, ham, and of course - cheese.
Icelandair
Hotel Reykjavik Marina
(http://icelandairhotels.com/hotels/reykjavikmarina)
The
newest Icelandair Hotel, the Reykjavik Marina location has more to
recommend it than its excellent position overlooking the docks. It’s
got Slipbarinn, or Slip Bar, with its extensive menu of innovative,
well-balanced cocktails, a rarity in Reykjavik.
Kex
Hostel (http://www.kexhostel.is/)
Forget
what you think you know about dingy, depressing hostels. Kex, housed
in an old biscuit factory in downtown Reykjavik, is lively, stylish,
and trendy. Along with dorm rooms, the facility features a cafe and
bar, gym, guest kitchens, free WiFi, and a heated outdoor patio.
Ask
for a room on a high floor facing the water at this hidden gem. It’s
a just a five minute walk to downtown, and it’s directly across
from the Harpa Reykjavik Concert Hall. Unwind after a long day of
adventures in the hot soaking pool.
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