Supermarkets: The Key To The Norwegian Soul

When traveling abroad there are many ways to learn about local culture. Taking a stroll down a local supermarket's aisles can help you understand, just a little, about local tastes and preferences.

In Svolvaer I was a frequent visitor to the Mega Coop, Coop being a chain (I was told government-owned, but I'm not entirely sure about that) with varying size stores depending on the needs of the community. In Svolvaer (as in Rørvik and other towns I visited) it was located within the Amfi indoor shopping mall.

The importance of fish is obvious from that section of the supermarket. According to one of the desk clerks at Svinøya Rorbuer the Mega Coop is the best place to buy seafood, the only better being the fish sold by a vendor who irregularly appears at the town square.  I purchased half a kilo of rekke (shrimp) to cook in our cottage and can vouch for the quality.

While the fish department was staffed for special orders and personal service, all the meats were pre-packaged, including cold cuts. Likewise the potato, shrimp and similar salads came pre-packaged.

Although the depth of selection is limited (you won't find six brands of toilet paper) the breadth was more than adequate, the shelves stocked for every need.

After multiple trips, I wonder how much home cooking Norwegians do. The aisles were filled with convenience foods, including the Toro brand which Sonia Wallace said provides the base for an excellent fish soup. (I'm dubious about that.) Mexican appears to be big.

As in American supermarkets, beverages took up considerable space, especially beer. As previously noted, it's a lot less expensive to buy your beer at a retail store than at a bar or restaurant: you save about 50 percent. All the popular Norwegian and many some international brands were available.

For more interesting beers you have to visit Vinmonopolet, the state wine and liquor monopoly. (Just like Pennsylvania!) On its shelves I spied some great Belgian beers at about the same price I'd pay in Philadelphia (NOK 50, or about $8, for a Westmalle Tripple, as an example). Most of the inventory was devoted to wine, though there were plenty of distilled spirits, especially cognac. Not nearly as extensive was the selection of aquavits: maybe a dozen, just a few more than you'd find at many bars.

Views From the Deck

Mountains along the coast within an hour's sail from Oksfjord. Photo taken Tuesday.

Late Wednesday afternoon, having reached the northern portion of the Lofoten Islands, the MS Trollfjord entered its namesake, the short but very narrow Trollfjord. Just about every passenger aboard elbowed for space on the sundeck or the panoramic viewing lounges in the bow to what the fjord walls close in on our ship.

After entering the fjord and nearing its end, the captain used the vessel's pod thrusters to pivot us 180 degees, so we could safely exit the fjord. These same pods allow the capitain and his crew to easily bring the boat to even the most crowded, hemmed in quay with precision and delicacy. These two photos show us entering and then leaving the fjord.

As we returned to Svolvaer, this time aboard the MS Trollfjord, we were greeted at the harbor's breakwater by this classic fishing town statue. It seems that every substantial commercial fishing center in the world has a similar statue of the fisherman's wife scanning the horizon hoping for his safe return.

Midnight sun worshippers on the deck at midnight, catching the rays.

It is as if the mountains nest the clouds on the Lofoten Islands, here a mid-evening view south of Stamsund. Below, the "Lofoten Wall" of mountains about 10:30 p.m., beautifully obscured by clouds

Catching Dinner

After having one fishing trip canceled out from under me because city inspectors hadn't got around to looking over the boat (a likely story: they probably just didn't have enough people to make a trip worth the fuel),  yesterday afternoon I finally made it to sea in search of dinner. The 4 p.m. sailing from Solvaer's town square pier started under sunny skies. Indeed, the first 20 minutes of the eastward cruise were sunny and warm, though we could see rainclouds ahead.

Sure enough, by the time we reached our first fishing spot the rains had started. Everyone dressed in raingear, either the one-piece outfits with hoods supplied by the boat, or their own. My rainpants and jacket kept me pretty dry, and because the temperature was moderate even at sea I had no need for a newly-purchased "duck hunting" wool sweater.

I no sooner got my line to the bottom and a few feet up when I felt a tug. I steadily reeled in the line and brought my catch to the surface, the first landed on the boat that afternoon and what turned out, I'm pretty sure, one of if not the largest. Had we had a pool, I would have won twice! For someone who hadn't been ocean fishing in about 45 years I was as pleased as could be. Beginners luck, I told a fellow fisherman from Oslo.

He told me I had caught what I heard him say was a "Helle", but after going to the web I think I misheard him pronounce, "Hyse", which is haddock in Norwegian. That's certainly what I landed looked like: a nice, fat haddock. (It might have been a pollock or a saithe, a.k.a. coalfish, but the Norwegian words for these fish aren't even close in pronunciation to what my new fishing buddy said; in any event, they are also closely related to the revered cod, with similar though not identical tastes and textures.) Although we had no scale, the mate thought it weighed about two kilograms: at 2.2 pounds to the kilo, that's a nicely sized fish.

No one else seemed to be catching much at our first spot, so the captain told us to reel in the rods so we could try another hole. About 10 minutes later, just east of the island community of Skrova, about six or seven miles south-southeast of Svolvaer, I again dropped my line into the green-gray water. Once again, I landed a hyse as quickly, this one almost as big as the first. A few others were hauled in by others on board, as well as some small cusks. But the dozen sea anglers aboard caught less than a dozen fish, so I got more than my share.

The mate headed and gutted the fish, feeding the entrails (and some bread) to the gulls following us back to Svolvaer. Once back at our rorbu I trimmed the tail and fins so it would fit in the only ovenware available. Now I had to figure out the best way to cook it. Haddock provides reasonably firm texture, with nice big flakes. It can stand up to strong sauces and seasonings despite its mild flavor. My larder, however, is pretty limited. Half an onion was available, along with salt, pepper, and plenty of the individual servings of butter I had been absconding with from the breakfast buffet every day since arrival. That would have to do.

So I set the oven on 200 C (nearly 400 F) to pre-heat while I prepped the fish. The bottom of the oval baking dish got a coat of butter. More butter was placed under, inside and on top of the fish. Here's what it looked like before I remembered to add the sliced onions:

Of course, what Norwegian meal would be complete without potatoes. At the Mega Coop that morning I obtained three medium-sized new potatoes. They looked much like Yukon Golds and their color, once cooked, a nice yellow. Here's my cooked meal:

As you can see from the photo at right, I was a happy man. The fish, on the table three hours after I had hauled it out of the Lofoten sea, was as sweet as could be. The potatoes, oddly but very pleasantly, were also sweet-tasting. And both went well with plenty of butter, salt and pepper.

More About Beer

Here's a half-liter (500 ml) glass of Arctic draft I enjoyed on the brygge (pier) in Svolvaer before heading out on a fishing trip.

This single glass set me back 68 kroner, or about $10. Although alcholic beverages are taxed heavily no matter where purchased, the levies are considerably higher at restaurants and cafés. A 330 ml bottle of the same beer, a relatively inexpensive brew, sells for 13.40 kroner, or a little more than $2, in the supermarket. That makes a six-pack somewhere in the vicinity of $14-15. (I've corrected my earlier post about Shrimp and Beer to reflect more accurate beer pricing). A bottle of better beer in the supermarket would sell for nearly twice the price.  So, if you want to enjoy some beer in a parsimonious fashion while visiting Norway, it's best to buy it at the supermarket for consumption at home.

Shrimp and Beer

While Jean Sue enjoyed a good  book, I enjoyed shrimp and beer at this lovely setting by our cottage.

I obtained both vittles at the Mega Coop, the aforesaid supermarket in the local mall. The six-pack of Arctic Beer originated from Mack Brewing of Tromsø, the metropolis of the north. (We'll be stopping there during our Hurtigruten journey, including an excursion for a brief concert at its Arctic Cathedral, the most northern in the world.) The six-pack set me back about $15, more than two bucks a bottle. The beer itself, while no microbrew, is four or five notches better than Bud and compares well with my standard beer at home, Yuengling's Chesterfield Ale. For an easy-to-drink, inexpensive lager, Arctic Beer hits the sweet spot.

The shrimp (rekke in Norsk) were of the small, northern variety, much like those caught during the winter season in Maine. They sold for about $10 a pound, with heads on. Which is all to the better, so you can suck out the fat or whatever that tasty subtance is that we rarely find in shrimp sold in the U.S. I simply boiled them in salted water, drained and put them in the fridge to cool. Some potato chips and carrot sticks completed my al fresco treat. (The local cat population enjoyed a few shrimp heads, too.)

What I must take care is to give myself two hours to let my blood alcohol level subside. Even one beer is enough to send you to the clink in Norway. Here's what the U.S. State Department says about drinking in Norway:

Norway has some of the strictest laws in Europe concerning driving under the influence of alcohol; those laws prescribe heavy penalties for drivers convicted of having even a low blood alcohol level.  Frequent road checks with mandatory breathalyzer tests and the promise of stiff jail sentences encourage alcohol-free driving.  The maximum legal blood alcohol content level for driving a car in Norway is .02 per cent.

 In Pennsylvania you are considered over the limit with a blood alcohol level of .08 or more -- four times more than the Norwegian standard.

At Last, Some Sun!

The sun finally made an appearance on our seventh day in Norway as shown by the midday illumination on a portion of the Svolvaer fishing fleet.

This morning we drove about half an hour to Henningsvaer, an even smaller town (but still substantial by Lofoten standards). The town is built on a series of small, narrow islands connected by bridges and causeways, giving it the feel of being a sort of Scandinavian Venice. Like the Venice region, Henningsvaer even has a glassblower whose excellent wares are displayed for sale at a local gallery; we were just as impressed by some of the pottery. Jean Sue, however, observed that it's too early in our trip to be buying fragile items, nice as they were.

A bit of a to-do over our rental car put a crimp in the early afternoon, which I spent at a garage and Jean Sue at the local mall. I won't say any more about the car other than the issues are resolved.

The mall (where we did our grocery shopping Monday) is a compact, two-story building into which the management company crammed about a dozen and a half stores selling just about anything you'd need, with some degree of style sense. Jean Sue almost bought some slacks, but they weren't available in her size. There's even a kitchenware store that I found of interest, though nothing out-of-the-ordinary to buy, and quite expensive: imagine paying nearly $1,000 for a Kitchen Aid stand mixer.

This afternoon we're taking it easy. I'm outdoors using the WiFi connection (it's just as good inside -- it's just too nice a day to spend anything but the minimum away rrom the sun).

Because the skies are relatively clear, we thought this would be our best chance to see, literally, the midnight sun. So we're planning a trip late this evening to the western side of the island (and the other side of its mountains, known as the Lofoten Wall) to see what we came here to see. For that reason, Jean Sue is fitting in a cat nap. While she was napping, I did what I do best: eating. More about that  in the next post.

Midsummer's Eve: Let There Be Fire

The bonfire was just starting to build up when a German TV producer,
there with his crew to film the festivities offered to take this photo of  Bob

 There are two peculiarities about the Norwegian celebration of the longest day of the year.

The first peculiarity is the date. Without regard for the date of the actual summer solstice Norwegians always celebrate their Midsummer's Eve on 23 June. Why, I have no idea. It's not like they time it for the weekend -- this year the 23rd was a Wednesday.

The second peculiarity, which holds across Scandinavia, not just Norway, is the lighting of fires. It seems counter-intuitive to require additional heat and light on the longest day of the year -- indeed, there is 24 hours of daylight this far north. Then again, we do the same just a few weeks after the solstice with the Fourth of July fireworks' display in an attempt to do away with night entirely, if only for a 30-minute show of explosives.

The locals appear to have two Midsummer's Eve celebrations. One is held about 11 p.m. away from the shore where the town of Svolvaer meets its mountains. We went to what was undoubtedly the "family" event (no beer) on the small island where our rorburer compound is located, just across the bridge from the main part of Svolvaer. Starting about 6  p.m. a crowd that eventually grew to about 250 gathered at the clearing jutting out into the water, a local recreation area that included a few picnic tables and fire pits. While waiting for the pagan ritual to begin, many (including your correspondent) lined up to buy pølse (hot dogs), soda and rommergrøt.

Jean Sue stuck with the pølse, but I went for the rømmergrøt which is about as simple a dish as you could make: porridge. But it was perfect to fill and warm you up while waiting for the bonfire. The porridge is made from milk and cream, flour and sugar, to which once ladled into your bowl you add quite a lot more sugar, this time mixed with plenty of cinnamon. Simple stuff, but good food.

The crowd cheered when the fire-starter arrived at 7 p.m. with his large container of gasoline. I'll call him Odd, since that's a common Norwegian male first name, and fitting to his job last night. Odd had a red face, probably from being close to too many fires, yet if he was experienced it didn't show. He got much too close to the large pile of wooden rubbish saved for the occasion. When the fire sent out a tongue of flame, or at least a blast of heat, Odd jumped back, bringing on laughter from the parents and kids watching. But Odd was not laughing: his red hair, especially his eyebrows, had to be singed, as well as a bit on his arms. For the next 10 minutes, as he continued to tend the fire, Odd kept rubbing his brow and checking his arms. Occupational hazard, I imagine.

The fire was built by a pile of rocks on the shore (the rocks are just about everywhere, although a couple of sand beaches do exist in these islands), just above the high tide line. There was nothing nearby to catch fire besides the bonfire, and if it did threaten, a front-end loader from the nearby fish plant could easily push it into the water.

The setting was ideal, with a view through the fire to distant islands and, looking off to the other side, the Svolvaer Goat and its craggy neighbors. By the time the fire started to die down we were both happy we could celebrate Midsummer's Eve in the Lofoten Islands.

It's About Fish

The Lofoten Islands may be broadening its economy through tourism, but fish is still at the heart of the community. Just a hundred feet or so from our cabin we found this worker taking cod down from one of the many drying racks near Svinøya Rorburer, the compound of cottages where we are spending our week on the islands.