Modern Day Vikings
Puffin Hunting in the Land
of Fire and Ice

Iceland looks and feels like no other place on earth. As our plane touched down just outside Reykjavik, I was almost convinced we'd landed on the moon. Not surprising, given that NASA astronauts trained in Iceland prior to the first moon landing. In much of the country, the barren, rocky topography looks otherworldly in the extreme. Iceland is roughly the size of Ohio, a moss-covered, glacial, rocky expanse, born of the volcanic womb. Treeless mountains, sweeping fields of arctic grasses waving out to the horizon, awe inspiring geysers, raging rivers, spectacular ocean vistas and therapeutic hot springs fueled by boiling, underwater volcanoes are stunning, but make much of the island uninhabitable. Iceland is called the land of fire and ice yet, despite its staggering natural beauty, the overwhelming majority of the population lives in the capital city of Rekyavik. Everyone else is a farmer, or works in either the thermal energy business (booming) or the greenhouse gardening industry (emerging).
The country is changing and growing all the time-- literally. In 1963, a volcanic explosion just off the southern coast of Iceland created an island one square mile in size. This landmass, named Surtsey after Iceland's mythological god of fire, grew to official landmass status in only three and a half years. I was fortunate enough to travel to Surtsey by boat one day. It's a phenomenal the thing to see, an island that is as big as it is, that is as new as it is, and freakishly almost exactly as old as I am.
I knew the food in Iceland would be wonderful. As a chef in New York and Minneapolis, I'd always been floored by the quality of Icelandic lamb, dairy products and seafood I'd occasionally run across from time to time. Icelandic animals drink the cleanest water on the earth, eat the freshest grass and breathe the purest air. Everything, from the horses to the sheep and cows, is genetically pristine and raised not only for their meat, but for their milk and cheese products. Skyr for example, the addictively cheesy yogurt product you see everywhere in Iceland, comes from cows that eat sweet grass for such a brief period of time, then silage for most of the year, which gives them a unique flavor profile that is distinctly their own. Sweet and white, devoid of the yellowed and grassy notes that conventionally raised cow's milk contains for much of the milking year.
I spent much of my time in Rekyavik, puttering around town and enjoying the beautiful summer weather. Summer temperatures climb into the 40s during the day, maybe 50s in the sun. We got a lot accomplished thanks to the globally famous amphetamine affect of the short nightfall. Occurring between 12AM and 5AM, the mid hours of the night are mostly dusky blue and never really deep black.
The food scene in Iceland is vibrant, small little cafes like the Sea Baron serve up steamy bowls of chowder and lobster bisque, elegant eateries like Vox and Siggi Hall would be great restaurant with huge followings in any city in the world, and the local seaport boasts a lamb hot dog shack that is a must for any food lover's Icelandic itinerary. I swam and spa-ed at the geo-thermal hot spring, the Blue Lagoon. I availed myself of the local public bath houses in town, which are very popular, and made a host of new friends courtesy of our larger-than-life host, Svein Sveinson. Svein is a filmmaker, bon vivant and legendary lover of the good life, who introduced himself to me online by sending me a picture of himself, stripped to the skin, after he'd stuffed his enormous 6 foot 5 inch frame into the teeniest hot spring he could find.
After...