Where to stay

Prices quoted are for a double room based on two people sharing (unless stated otherwise) with breakfast.

Hotel Varmahlid Set in a small village in the heart of horse-breeding country, this 1970s hotel has been recently renovated and is run with warm and welcoming efficiency. The restaurant is good too, serving traditional Icelandic food – including horsemeat dishes – using local food producers and farmers. Doubles from €135. 560 Varmahlid, Skagafjörður, 00 354 453 8170, hotelvarmahlid.is

Vogafjós Owned by Olöf Hallgrímsdóttir, the 10 pine-clad cabins on this working farm are stylishly furnished. Excellent breakfasts in the Cowshed Café with the added novelty of being able to watch the cows being milked through the window. Doubles from €165. Vogum, 660 Mývatn, 00 354 464 4303, vogafjos.net

Engimýri Located 10km south of Akureyri, this makes a great base for horse-riding, fishing or hiking holidays. Spotless rooms occupy converted cowsheds and most have fabulous views across the valley towards the fjord. Unwind after a day’s activities with a beer in the hot tub and gawp at the midnight sun. Doubles from £45. Öxnadal, 00 354 462 7518, engimyri.is

A Vegamótum Stay in one of the log cabins or in the dinky house built by the owner’s grandparents in 1914. Antique furniture and textiles add to the charm and self-catering facilities may come in handy. Doubles from £80. Dalvík, 00 354 466 1050, vegamot.net

Hotel Kea Long-established and well-appointed hotel conveniently situated right in the centre of Akureyri, with stylish, comfortable rooms and a good restaurant. Doubles from £105. Hafnarstaeti 87-89, 600 Akureyri, 00 354 460 2000, keahotels.is

Travel Information

Currency is the Icelandic króna (£1 = 190 ISK). The country is not as cold as it sounds: average temperatures in July are around 11°C in Reykjavík but the northern region can reach 20°C. Winter sees temperatures drop to below zero. In high summer, the sun barely sets in Reykjavík and it is light around-the-clock in the northern region. In mid winter, you can expect only four to five hours a day of daylight.

Getting there

Iceland Express (0118 321 8384, icelandexpress.com) has daily flights from London Gatwick to Reykjavík, from £89 one-way including taxes. The airline also operates a twice-weekly service between London Stansted and Reykjavík.

Icelandair (0844 811 1190, icelandair.co.uk) offers twice-daily flights from London Heathrow to Reykjavík, and four times a week from Manchester and Glasgow. Prices from £188 return.

Air Iceland (00 354 570 3030, airiceland.is) provides domestic flights from Reykjavík to Akureyri, from £30 one-way including tax.

Resources

Icelandic Tourist Board (00 354 511 4000, visiticeland.com) is the official travel guide to Iceland, with details of accommodation, tour operators and plenty of things to see and do.

Iceland Gourmet Guide (icelandgourmetguide.com) gives detailed information on everything you need to know about what to eat and where to go for Icelandic cuisine at its best.

North Iceland (00 354 462 3300, northiceland.is) is a dedicated guide to the northern region, with suggestions for a host of unique experiences and plenty of inspiring images.

Don’t miss

Mývatn Naturebath A spa complex of geothermically heated outdoor pools where you can soak up the natural minerals and enjoy staggering views across the volcanic landscape. 00 354 464 4411, jardbodin.is

Glaumaer A fascinating museum set in a restored turf house with two 19th-century houses alongside. Traditional home-made cakes served in the café are worth the journey alone. Near Varmahlid, 00 354 453 6173, glaumbaer.is

Kaldi Brewery The first micro-brewery in Iceland, and one which is enjoying huge success. A master brewer from the Czech Republic and ex-Icelandic Olympic skier Kristinn Valsson make a range of beers made with locally grown grains and are happy to give visitors tours and tastings. Arskógssandur, 00 354 861 3007

Whale-watching and sea-angling There are departures throughout the day, but the trip leaving at 11 pm as the midnight sun dips towards the horizon is particularly recommended – it’s jaw-dropping. Dalvík, 00 354 771 7600, bataferdir.is

Where to eat

Prices quoted are per person for three courses (without wine).

Bakaríið við Brúnna A small bakery, which sells typical Icelandic baked goods, including 40 types of bread, as well as soups and light meals. Enjoy excellent coffee from 7am. Gleráreyrum 2 IS-600 Akureyri, 00 354 461 2700
Vogafjós Cowshed Café Local produce including Olöf’s home-produced cheeses and smoked meat and fish. £53, including wine. Vogar, 00 354 464 4303, vogarholidays.is

Hannes Boy Café A new tunnel from Olafsfjörður makes this isolated herring port now easily accessible from Akureyri, and this café, in a converted herring warehouse, is unmissable for its modern techniques and top-notch ingredients. £45. Suðurgotu 10, Siglufjörður, 00 354 467 1550, hannesboy.is

Restaurant Salka Local produce is translated into beautiful, complex dishes in this handsome building dating from the 1880s. Smoked puffin with chicken liver mousse is one of many highlights. A cheaper pizza-based menu is available in the ground floor café. £53. Gardarsbraut 6, Húsavik, 00 354 464 2551, salkarestaurant.is

Restaurant Við Höfnina Great views from the airy dining room where simple food is cooked with skill. Mussels in locally brewed stout, salt cod and, ahem, whale are specialities. £34. Dalvík, 00 354 466 2040, dallas.is

RUB 23 Umi Restaurant Award-winning chef Einar Geirsson fuses Icelandic and Japanese cuisines, as well as some other Asian and North American flavours, – with unexpected but dazzling success in very chic surroundings. £63. Kaupvangsstræti 23, 600 Akureyri, 00 354 462 2223, rub.is

The Old Farm (Gamli Bærinn) A cheerful café with a pretty garden alongside the Hotel Reynihlið, its kjötsúpa (lamb soup) is justly famous. £37. Reynihlid, Mývatn 00 354 464 4170, reynihlid.is

Food Glossary

Brúnkeka

Spiced chocolate cake.

Flatkökur (or flatbrauð)

Icelandic flat rye bread.

Hangikjöt

An Icelandic smoked lamb dish served with potatoes and green peas or pickled red cabbage. Now, it tends to be eaten on special occasions like Christmas.

Hverabrauð

Traditional rye bread baked in natural geo-thermal steam vents in the earth for 20 hours or more.

Kæst skata

Fermented skate, traditionally eaten on 23 December.

Kleinur

Twisted doughnuts, deep-fried and flavoured with cardamom.

Mjólkurgrautur

A traditional rice porridge.

Mysa

A calcium-rich drink that is made as a by-product of skyr and often used instead of wine for cooking fish. Mysa is also used in the pickling of ram’s testicles.

Plokkfiskur

A fish stew made to use up leftovers, often served with black (rye) bread.

Pönnukökur

Icelandic pancakes, sometimes flavoured with cinnamon and cardamom, and served with cream and jam.

Pylsa

Icelandic hot dogs. Served with the usual toppings (ketchup, mustard and crunchy fried onions) and a spicy remoulade sauce.

Skyr

A skimmed milk curd that is served whipped with milk or eaten with cream.

Sodbraud

Fried bread with smoked lamb; a speciality of Akureyri.

Food and Travel Review

Amore magical and mysterious country than Iceland would be hard to find, carved by ancient glacial movements and warmed by bubbling geothermal springs. Its extraordinary landscape is bathed in 24-hour daylight in summer, shrouded in darkness in winter and is always rich in natural produce, making it an intriguing place to visit at any time of the year.

Yet Iceland’s fortunes have been far from fair in recent times. An economic crisis followed by the volcanic eruption of Eyjafjallajokull saw many prospective travellers look past Iceland’s unique charms. Despite the challenges, Icelanders faced these misfortunes with characteristic resourcefulness and are now rapidly rediscovering their traditional food culture. The northern region in particular is rich in environmental diversity and a generous source of fish and fowl.

The cultural outcome is a gradual move away from imported convenience foods and a welcome return to home-cooked fare. ‘We used to love fast food,’ Julius Juliusson, a local-food champion, tells me. ‘It could be said that a few years ago pizza and hot dogs were our national dishes. This is a new country, and fast food made us feel young and modern. Maybe we lacked the confidence to be proud of our own food heritage, but now things are changing.’

Iceland is indeed young, both geologically and demographically. Formed when the Eurasian and American continental plates began drifting apart and magma from the earth’s core welled to the surface, its oldest rocks date back a mere 14 million years, long after the dinosaurs had died out in the rest of the world. Accidentally discovered by the Vikings, it was first settled by Norwegian émigrés in the 9th century following a convoluted land dispute. These sturdy souls sailed with sheep, horses, seeds and the wherewithal for survival. Thus, they were able to stake their claim on Iceland’s uninhabited and inhospitable shores, formally establishing their first settlement at Reykjavík (‘Smoky Bay’) in AD 874.

Fishing and agriculture were the mainstays of the economy until 1994 when Iceland joined the European Economic Area and was able to enjoy the freedom to diversify into economic and financial services. During this period, Reykjavík established an international reputation for its cutting-edge music scene and cosmopolitan liberalism, as well as for its lucrative banking sector. In the more rural northern region, however, traditions remained the same.

‘Here in the north, we were hardly affected by the boom times,’ Julius goes on. ‘A few new shopping centres were built, but generally we carried on as we have always done. We are fishermen and farmers up here; we produce some really fantastic food and it’s good for us all that it is now being rediscovered by other people.’

This area does seem a long way from racy Reykjavík; the pace of life is slower and its traditions are more conservative. North Iceland’s capital, Akureyri, is the country’s second largest city but with a population of just 17,000 (compared to Reykjavík’s 120,000) it feels more like a sleepy backwater than a throbbing hub. This seems to suit the region’s quiet and sturdy disposition and its hardy and enterprising residents.

The landscape in the north is surprisingly varied and its climate dry and mild; in summer, the temperature can reach 20°C and in winter it rarely drops below -6°C. Summer activities harness the best the untamed landscape has to offer, from hiking, horseriding and white-water rafting to fishing and whale-watching – just the thing to sharpen the appetite. Both landscape and climate, of course, shape the local food culture. Soft meadows on the valley floors provide lush pasture for dairy cattle and horses; sheep graze on the herbaceous mountain slopes; herbs, berries and mushrooms are foraged in the woodlands. The lakes and rivers are full of salmon and arctic char and the dramatic fjords slicing into the coastline mean the sea and its bounty are never far away.

Neighbouring volcanic landscapes provide a sharp contrast to this beatific idyll. Plumes of steam, pools of boiling mud and geysers of hot water are emitted from barren plains coloured and scented with sulphur, and this impressively elemental geothermal energy is tapped to meet much of the nation’s power requirements. It is captured to heat greenhouses where fruit and vegetables are grown and is even used to bake bread.

‘My mother baked the bread in old biscuit tins,’ says Olöf Hallgrímsdóttir at her family’s farm on the shores of Lake Mývatn (‘Midge Lake’), where most of Iceland’s wild fowl come to feed and breed and freshwater fish abound. ‘But these days we use plastic tubs or Tetrapak milk cartons.’ She mixes wholemeal and rye flours, yeast, sugar and water (‘I don’t weigh anything; it’s all done by feel’) and divides the dough between the plastic tubs. We then drive a few miles from the lush fields of her family’s farm to the nearest lava field where we find the ‘geyser oven’ – a hole in the ground, lined with the drum from an old tumble dryer. Other similar ovens are dotted around, alongside carrots and potatoes growing in the naturally warmed soil.

‘Most families around here bake their bread like this,’ Olöf tells me. ‘Each has their own recipe and, of course, each is the best!’ She removes the wooden lid and takes out yesterday’s loaves which have been cooking for 24 hours at a temperature of about 100°C. They smell sweet and malty and have a soft, sticky texture, like gingerbread. They taste delicious.

Olöf’s family has been farming here for more than a century. It is a small farm typical of the region and although Olöf supplements the farm income by offering food and accommodation to tourists, her real interest lies in retaining its agricultural and culinary traditions. Her award-winning herd of cows, 16-strong, are very much part of the family. They are kept in barns during the winter, fed on hay and home-grown corn, before being set out to graze for the three short months of summer. Their milk is used for skyr, a kind of strained yoghurt, which has been made for centuries and still finds its way into most meals, usually with cooked fruit as a pudding. It is Iceland’s only traditional dairy product but enterprising farmers such as Olöf are now branching out and producing ice cream and fine artisan cheeses. With textures reminiscent of mozzarella and feta, the latter are particularly successful and sit in oil scented with herbs gathered from the lava fields. These cheeses, along with her bread and smoked lamb, are served in Olöf’s Vogafjós Cowshed Café.

In May, Olöf’s sheep are taken to communal pastures after lambing, returning in September for slaughter. This mountain lamb gives meat that is sweet and tender, and perfect for smoking. Puffin, guillemot and horsemeat are other traditional sources of protein and all are enjoying something of a revival. They seem to hold the same appeal to locals as pigeon, partridge and venison do to more southerly Europeans.

In the north of Iceland, there are 24 hours of daylight at the height of the short summer but the long, dark days of winter see barely four hours of gloomy gloaming. The soil is too cold to till, few plants grow and the animals would get lost or freeze if they weren’t kept indoors. Perhaps this is why preservation lies at the heart of Iceland’s culinary heritage.

Much food is now frozen for consumption during winter but smoking is still commonly used to preserve meat and freshwater fish. Although Iceland was heavily wooded when first settled, little timber remained by the 19th century so a mixture of dried cow dung, straw and peat is used as fuel instead. This gives a heavy, earthy smoke to meat and fish alike which sets off the fattiness of the flesh and is somehow deeply warming.

Salting and air-drying have been used to preserve cod, haddock and herring here for hundreds of years. Catches have dramatically declined since the 1960s, largely due to over-exploitation, but fishing is still very much a part of life here and high-tech processing plants, tucked behind pretty fishing harbours, are major employers in this region. They export frozen and salted cod to fish and chip shops in the UK, gourmet restaurants throughout Europe and West African street markets.

In contrast to this technology, northern Iceland is still home to artisan producers of salt cod, such as Elvar Reykjalin. ‘Our salt cod is very labour-intensive,’ he explains. ‘We cut the fish by hand and soak it in salted water rather than just injecting it with brine. It is expensive to make, but it’s the best you can buy and everybody here knows that,’ he says simply. ‘My grandfather started here in 1918 when the winter was so cold the fjord froze over and people were starving. He taught me the techniques when I was 12 and I am now teaching my grandchildren. Salt cod is my family’s life.’

Fishing quotas now limit the quantities of fish caught so these communities are having to diversify. Elvar has just produced his first range of oven-ready meals, encompassing meatballs, stews and croquettes amongst other recipes. The ingredients are all local and the range has been well received. His fisherman friend Viðir Björnsson (it is no surprise that everybody seems to know everybody in these parts) has been farming blue mussels off the island of Hrísey for 10 years and, after much trial and error, has finally got it right. ‘There is no tradition of eating shellfish here, but the waters are perfect for mussels and the business is now going well,’ he says. Vidir welcomes the effects of the economic crash. ‘All Icelanders are being asked to do their bit to improve the image of Iceland since the economic and volcanic disasters. There has been a massive move back to sourcing and growing our own food, to being self-sufficient and working hard. That can only be a good thing.’

There are other traditional foods that perhaps owe their popularity more to a sense of heritage than to a sense of taste. Rotten shark, fermented skate, singed sheep heads and rams’ testicles pickled in mysa – the whey left over from cheese-making – are still enjoyed on special occasions but mostly, it seems, by men. The women I meet tend to shudder when they are mentioned.

‘Food has always been scarce here and in harsh winters people starved to death, so nothing edible was wasted,’ Guðmundur Oskarsson tells me. ‘We still eat these foods to remind us of those days, although my friends and I really do enjoy them.’ Guðmundur’s father, the youngest of 20 children, was brought up on an isolated peninsula near the fishing town of Olafsfjörður and is renowned for his skill in making rotten shark. The flesh is packed into boxes and left to rot for five weeks – fresh shark is inedible due to its high ammonia content – and then hung to dry in a slatted barn on the cliff top for five months or more. With a coarse texture and a still-ammoniacal flavour, it is an acquired taste, as are the boiled ram’s testicles I am also given. Julius and Guðmunder eat theirs with relish, washing them down with Black Death, a potato-based spirit flavoured with caraway.

Dalvík, a fishing village 40km north of Akureyri, boasts the world’s most northerly golf club. It is also the home town of Julius Juliusson. He organises The Big Fish Day, held here every year in August, when the population of 1,600 swells to around 40,000. Whole hillsides are given over to campers from all over Iceland. Villagers open their houses to visitors, serving them a fish stew called plokkfiskur, and the next day sees a huge fish-based buffet laid on in the streets with music, boat trips and record-breaking pizzas thrown in. It is one big party and not a penny changes hands. ‘It is becoming more popular each year,’ Julius says. ‘It is crazy but I’m very proud of it. Sometimes things have been hard here. We have moved with the times but we also retain the important traditions. We are less concerned with making money than building sustainable communities for future generations, communities that can make us proud to be Icelandic.’