As a Japanese chef, I’ve spent years perfecting the art of delicate flavors—balancing umami, acidity, and texture in every dish I create. But nothing could have prepared me for the bold, primal flavors of Iceland. Here, in a land where fire and ice collide, food is shaped by the raw forces of nature—volcanic heat, Arctic winds, and a deep respect for survival.
My journey through Iceland was not just about stunning landscapes, but about discovering how a nation thrives on some of the most unique and ancient culinary traditions in the world.
First Taste: Reykjavík’s Bold Flavors
I landed in Reykjavík expecting fresh seafood, but I hadn’t anticipated the Viking-level intensity of flavors. My first stop? A bowl of plokkfiskur, a creamy fish stew, rich with mashed potatoes and butter. It was simple yet satisfying, reminding me of the comfort food of home—except here, the fish tasted of the wild Atlantic, untamed and bracing.
Then came hákarl—the infamous fermented shark. The server handed me a small cube, its ammonia-rich aroma stinging my nose. “Chew slowly,” he advised with a knowing grin. I did.
The taste? Like a storm hitting my tongue—pungent, challenging, and lingering far longer than expected. I chased it with a shot of Brennivín, Iceland’s signature caraway-infused spirit, which burned just as fiercely.
A Feast from Fire and Ice
Traveling inland, I visited the Geysir Hot Springs, where I witnessed locals cooking rye bread in the steaming earth. Hverabrauð, or “hot spring bread,” is baked underground for 24 hours, emerging dense, slightly sweet, and impossibly soft. Smeared with thick Icelandic butter and topped with smoked trout, it was a revelation—earth, fire, and sea combined into one perfect bite.
At a small family farm near Vík, I tried hangikjöt, lamb smoked over dried sheep dung. The idea might sound extreme, but the result was astonishing—tender, deeply smoky meat that tasted like the rugged landscapes it came from. Icelandic lamb, I learned, roams freely, feeding on wild herbs and moss, giving it an unparalleled flavor.
The Arctic Seafood Surprise
As a sushi chef, I had to explore Iceland’s seafood at its source. In Húsavík, a small fishing town, I boarded a boat with local fishermen and pulled fresh cod straight from the icy North Atlantic. That evening, I prepared sashimi with the catch, testing how the sweetness of Icelandic fish compared to that of Hokkaido’s cold waters.
The verdict? Different, yet equally exquisite. Icelandic fish carries a firmer texture, likely due to the frigid ocean currents, and a deep, clean flavor that required nothing more than a touch of wasabi and soy sauce.
The Ultimate Culinary Challenge: Svið
No Icelandic adventure is complete without svið—boiled sheep’s head. When it arrived on my plate, split in half with its eye still intact, I hesitated. But if I could handle hákarl, I could handle this.
The cheek meat was tender and rich, the tongue smooth and velvety. It reminded me of eating braised pork cheek in Japan—except here, the dish was about resourcefulness, honoring every part of the animal.
Final Word
Iceland’s cuisine is not delicate, nor is it easy. It is bold, fearless, and deeply tied to the land.
Unlike Japan’s refined, precise cooking, Icelandic food is primal, shaped by necessity rather than artistry. And yet, I found a shared philosophy—both cultures value purity, respect for ingredients, and the stories that food carries.
As I stood beneath the dancing Northern Lights on my final night, I thought of my kitchen back home. Would I dare bring some of Iceland’s flavors into my Japanese cooking? Perhaps a miso-marinated Arctic char? A sushi roll with smoked lamb?
One thing was certain—this journey had changed my palate forever.
Check out Bamba Travel’s free itinerary to Iceland:
Guest post written by Hiro Taka
Chef Hiroshi Tanaka isn’t just a master of Japanese cuisine—he’s a globetrotter with a passion for discovering new flavors.
