of the day.
I’m also very appreciative of the fact that as a child, family holidays often took us abroad. By visiting different countries, I was introduced to a wealth of different foods and flavours. So it felt right to include a few dishes inspired by these memories – Mussels with Tomato, Chorizo, Sherry and Parsley, for example, and Tomato Risotto with Lemon and Basil Mascarpone.
Although my mother has lived in Dublin since marrying my father, she grew up in Iceland. Life in Reykjavik in the 1940s was, of course, very different from what it is now. Mum and her family lived close to the docks, which was where they would go to get their just-caught fish and also smoked fish, which was prepared as soon as it came in from the boats and was very popular because nobody had fridges. Being an island nation with not a huge amount of vegetation, fish featured a lot in their diet, much more so than meat, though if there was meat it was lamb. Even with a mainly fish diet, my mum remembers that children were all given cod liver oil in school every day as a supplement!
One of my favourite Icelandic foods that Mum often used to eat and we enjoyed on holidays in Iceland is harðfiskur – the salted dried fish. I can still remember we used to eat it cold, spread with salted butter, as did Mum when she was young. It’s still really popular there and although it’s more often eaten as a snack, it is sometimes heated in soups and stews. I tried to make it recently at home in County Cork, but it just didn’t match up to the authentic Icelandic version, which is dried in the North Atlantic sea breeze. I guess I’ll just have to wait for my next trip to Iceland until I have some more. Breakfast for my mum before she would skate across the Tjörnin lake in the middle of Reykjavik to get to school in wintertime was a bowl of sfyr, which is a bit like a Greek yoghurt, but is technically a cheese (as described on here). Mum remembers it being incredibly thick in the tub, so it would be thinned out with milk. In the wintertime it was scattered with cinnamon sugar and during the long, bright summers, they would enjoy it with berries. These were mainly blueberries that they’d picked at the weekend when visiting their relatives in the countryside, where they would also go camping, ride ponies and, in the wintertime, ski. The dairy where they used to buy skyr was next door to the bakery where my mum’s favourite treat of all came from – vinabroð. These are gorgeous little delicacies made with puff pastry and an almond or custard topping, and Mum still remembers how they were always wrapped in baking parchment for her and her little sister to bring back home. One of the most popular Icelandic pastries still is kleinur, but Mum remembers these were more often than not made at home, as being deep-fried they need to be eaten as soon as they’re made. My amma (Icelandic for grandmother – my mum’s mum) used to make these for Grandpa, as he adored them, like my children do now. Unfortunately I never got Amma’s kleinur recipe from her, but my version, which is hopefully does justice to hers.
I get such pleasure when I see my children enjoying really good food, whether it’s fish that they’ve caught, filleted and cooked themselves, shrimps that my daughter learnt how to peel and demolish by the dozen from her great-grandmother, or the seeds that they’ve planted and watched turn into sweet, crunchy carrots or cucumbers. I hope that they’ll get the opportunity to teach and inspire future generations, passing on the appreciation and joy that there is to be had from great food.
As well as chatting to my own mum about the food that she loved as a child, I’ve been lucky enough to get wonderful stories and recipes from some of my friends, and indeed my mother-in-law Darina, about the food that was cooked for them by their mothers.
Thanks to all my friends who offered not only recipes but inspiration too: from Patricia for her tales of weekly liver with onions; Helen with her mother’s delicious apple cake recipe, which I’ve tweaked to feature plums; Nessa, whose mother Margaret lent me her precious three-generation-old handwritten cookbook; Fingal and his mum Giana for the wonderful stories and many emails; and Pam for the lovely tip of using breadcrumbs in a crumble like her mum Sheila did and still does. Thanks to Ted and his mum Charlotte for the delicious Swedish seed crackers recipe, to Lara for many wonderful stories about her childhood and her love of food in Iceland, and to Jasper, Tiffany and their mum Julia, who so generously gave me more wonderful recipes than I had space for.
I hope that you too enjoy the recipes in this book and feel inspired to pass them down to the next generation.
Skyr
MAKES ABOUT ¾ LITRE
Skyr is one of the Icelandic tastes of my childhood. Otherwise known as Icelandic curds, skyr is an age-old recipe dating back to the ninth century. It’s often compared to Greek yoghurt, but strictly speaking it is a cheese – thicker than yoghurt with a slight cheesy tang. It’s delicious, and is sometimes served with a little cream and brown sugar or, as I remember it, a splash of milk and a sprinkle of sugar. My sister and I used to have milk and sugar over natural yoghurt at home in Dublin to try to replicate the flavour. Making your own skyr is not unlike making yoghurt, although often a couple of drops of rennet are added and the ‘set’ milk is cut and strained to release the whey from the curds. Skyr can be left plain or flavoured with honey, coffee, vanilla and even herbs such as mint, rosemary and thyme. Homemade skyr will keep, covered, in the fridge for one week.
1 litre (1¾ pints) full-cream milk (I like to use an organic unpasteurised milk if possible, but other milk can be used)
1 tbsp skyr, from a previous batch if possible or shop bought (failing that, use a live active culture yoghurt)
2 drops of rennet or vegetable rennet (optional)
1. Place the milk in a saucepan over a very low heat and warm it slowly until it reaches 90°C (195°F). This should take 1 hour. Take it off the heat and set aside, at room temperature, to cool until it reaches 40°C (105°C) – 30 minutes. If this step is done too quickly, it could affect the setting of the skyr.
2. Add 1 tablespoon skyr (or yoghurt) and whisk to combine, making sure not to scrape the bottom of the pot. Next, stir in the rennet, if using. Place a lid on the saucepan and wrap it with two tea towels, then leave to stand at room temperature for 12–15 hours (a few more hours will probably be ok if you have to leave the house, but definitely not more than 24 hours).
3. By this stage, the milk should have thickened and you should notice the see-through whey separating from the brilliant white curds. Place a clean piece of muslin or cheesecloth in a sieve set over a bowl. Using a clean knife, cut the curds into a grid-shape, then tip into the lined sieve. Tie the material into a knot or tie with string, then hang the bundle from a hook or a wooden spoon stuck through the knot and suspend it over the bowl, removing the sieve. The fabric should not be touching the whey that’s dripping off it into the bowl. If your kitchen is quite warm, hang the skyr in the fridge.
4. Leave to hang for 2 hours or until the mixture in the bundle is quite thick and almost beginning to dry at the edges. If it’s too dry, whisk in some of the whey
