Norway’s Lofoten islands in the 1950s, may seem an unlikely inspiration for gourmet eating.
Not so for chef Kjell A. Jenssen, who has recreated a fragment of his childhood homeland behind the rather nondescript façade of shopping street besides Oslo’s sculpture-filled Vigelands Park.
The amiable Mr. Jenssen has a simple approach, which he explains to first time guests. For him, the icy waters surrounding Lofoten’s craggy peaks produce seafood of such pure quality that _ like his forefathers _ he sees little reason to douse it in fancy sauces or elaborate preparations.
Not so for chef Kjell A. Jenssen, who has recreated a fragment of his childhood homeland behind the rather nondescript façade of shopping street besides Oslo’s sculpture-filled Vigelands Park.
The amiable Mr. Jenssen has a simple approach, which he explains to first time guests. For him, the icy waters surrounding Lofoten’s craggy peaks produce seafood of such pure quality that _ like his forefathers _ he sees little reason to douse it in fancy sauces or elaborate preparations.
Oslo harbourAnd when he says seafood, don’t think that means just fish, for the menu at his Lofotstua Restaurant is not for the squeamish, featuring not only whale, but also seal _ once a staple in remote north Norway, now a hard to find specialty.
After a long walk to the restaurant through the galleries, boutiques and cafes of trendy Frognerveien, we found ourselves enjoying a glass of Mack beer from what claim to be the world’s most northerly brewery in Troemso, while Jenssen explained what was in store.
We were to start with two of his signature dishes _ cod tongues and whale in a cream sauce.
This news was met with a certain amount of apprehension among some of the non-Norwegians amongst us. But nobody dared say “no” and soon compliments were flowing for the sweet, succulent morsels of cod lightly fried in a delicate, eggy batter.
In fact, Jenssen explained, what are called “tongues” actually the glutinous bit from between the fishes’ jawbones _ something I’d actually had once in Iceland sautéed with tarragon and a pinch of curry and there called “cod’s chins.”
After a long walk to the restaurant through the galleries, boutiques and cafes of trendy Frognerveien, we found ourselves enjoying a glass of Mack beer from what claim to be the world’s most northerly brewery in Troemso, while Jenssen explained what was in store.
We were to start with two of his signature dishes _ cod tongues and whale in a cream sauce.
This news was met with a certain amount of apprehension among some of the non-Norwegians amongst us. But nobody dared say “no” and soon compliments were flowing for the sweet, succulent morsels of cod lightly fried in a delicate, eggy batter.
In fact, Jenssen explained, what are called “tongues” actually the glutinous bit from between the fishes’ jawbones _ something I’d actually had once in Iceland sautéed with tarragon and a pinch of curry and there called “cod’s chins.”
Oslo fortress Guard
Next up the whale, minke whale to be precise, cut into thin slices swimming in a rich, creamy sauce. Our host had explained that the taste was similar to a tender steak with just a hint of liver, and he was spot on. It was sinfully delicious.
Whale is back in fashion in Norway. They serve whale meat burgers up in the Lofoten islands and in Oslo’s chicer places, whale sushi is the in thing _ I was served at a reception some and found it a tad bland.
A tastier and more ecologically correct choice among the odder northern seafood is perhaps red king crab. These monsters, which can grow up to almost 2 meters across, were introduced to the Barents Sea in the 1960s from their homelands off the Siberian far east as part of a harebrained Soviet scheme to bring the much prized delicacy closer to markets in Moscow and Leningrad. The crabs have thrived and are now causing environmental havoc in the seas off northern Norway, munching their way down through the fjords. Norwegian fishermen are doing the best to limit their numbers, so feel free to tuck into their sweet white meat with a clear conscience _ great sautéed with a little garlic and parsley.
Back to the Lofotstua, and next up on the menu Jenssen put together for us was traditional boiled cod served with liver and roe.
This is the emblemic dish of the Lofoten islands. Firm, fresh white fish dished up with a generous slice of pink roe, boiled potatoes, a tub of melted butter and a steaming pot of chopped cod liver sauce with onions.
Forget cod liver oil, this all came together perfectly a surprising sophisticated dish made of such simple ingredients.
A Frenchman at the table declared it the best fish he had ever tasted, although by that time the Mack beers had been supplemented by a chilled glass of Linie aquavit – a copper-hued firewater flavored with herbs and spices, that by tradition must travel in a ship’s hold to the equator and back before serving _ so perhaps his views were somewhat distorted.
Lofotstua’s décor aims at recapturing a fisherman’s café up in the islands, bleached wood boards, scraps of net, prints and fading photos of fragile-looking sailing boats against a backdrop of towering cliff faces.
In some contrast to the austere setting, the window overlooking the street provided a constantly colourful parade of comely blonds dressed in scarlet dungaree trousers, blowing whistles and displaying a worsening state of inebriation. This due to high school graduation celebrations that apparently last through the spring.
Two more fish came up next and focused attention back on our plates _ lightly battered, and pan fried halibut and a scary looking beast the locals call Steinbit and translate as Norwegian catfish. Once again excellent quality, presented only with more boiled spuds, a salad, some pickled cucumber and wafer-thin crisp bread.
We stagger toward dessert, Arctic cloudberries with whipped cream, or tilskerte bondepiker, which was translated as “brown Betty” and turned out to resemble apple crumble. Coffee was served in a big, copper kettle, as Jenssen explained why he’d not given us his other “exotic” specialty – seal. Just too gamey to go well with all that fish, he said. Also the cooking needs to be exact, too rare or overdone and it’s inedible, he explains.
Norway’s seafood is legendary, but like most things in this most expensive of cities, it comes at a price. We paid 526 kroner (about 65 euro) a head at Lofotstua.
Next up the whale, minke whale to be precise, cut into thin slices swimming in a rich, creamy sauce. Our host had explained that the taste was similar to a tender steak with just a hint of liver, and he was spot on. It was sinfully delicious.
Whale is back in fashion in Norway. They serve whale meat burgers up in the Lofoten islands and in Oslo’s chicer places, whale sushi is the in thing _ I was served at a reception some and found it a tad bland.
A tastier and more ecologically correct choice among the odder northern seafood is perhaps red king crab. These monsters, which can grow up to almost 2 meters across, were introduced to the Barents Sea in the 1960s from their homelands off the Siberian far east as part of a harebrained Soviet scheme to bring the much prized delicacy closer to markets in Moscow and Leningrad. The crabs have thrived and are now causing environmental havoc in the seas off northern Norway, munching their way down through the fjords. Norwegian fishermen are doing the best to limit their numbers, so feel free to tuck into their sweet white meat with a clear conscience _ great sautéed with a little garlic and parsley.
Back to the Lofotstua, and next up on the menu Jenssen put together for us was traditional boiled cod served with liver and roe.
This is the emblemic dish of the Lofoten islands. Firm, fresh white fish dished up with a generous slice of pink roe, boiled potatoes, a tub of melted butter and a steaming pot of chopped cod liver sauce with onions.
Forget cod liver oil, this all came together perfectly a surprising sophisticated dish made of such simple ingredients.
A Frenchman at the table declared it the best fish he had ever tasted, although by that time the Mack beers had been supplemented by a chilled glass of Linie aquavit – a copper-hued firewater flavored with herbs and spices, that by tradition must travel in a ship’s hold to the equator and back before serving _ so perhaps his views were somewhat distorted.
Lofotstua’s décor aims at recapturing a fisherman’s café up in the islands, bleached wood boards, scraps of net, prints and fading photos of fragile-looking sailing boats against a backdrop of towering cliff faces.
In some contrast to the austere setting, the window overlooking the street provided a constantly colourful parade of comely blonds dressed in scarlet dungaree trousers, blowing whistles and displaying a worsening state of inebriation. This due to high school graduation celebrations that apparently last through the spring.
Two more fish came up next and focused attention back on our plates _ lightly battered, and pan fried halibut and a scary looking beast the locals call Steinbit and translate as Norwegian catfish. Once again excellent quality, presented only with more boiled spuds, a salad, some pickled cucumber and wafer-thin crisp bread.
We stagger toward dessert, Arctic cloudberries with whipped cream, or tilskerte bondepiker, which was translated as “brown Betty” and turned out to resemble apple crumble. Coffee was served in a big, copper kettle, as Jenssen explained why he’d not given us his other “exotic” specialty – seal. Just too gamey to go well with all that fish, he said. Also the cooking needs to be exact, too rare or overdone and it’s inedible, he explains.
Norway’s seafood is legendary, but like most things in this most expensive of cities, it comes at a price. We paid 526 kroner (about 65 euro) a head at Lofotstua.
A couple of day’s earlier, dinner at Lofoten, a more upmarket fish restaurant on the fashionable Akerbrygge quayside dinner came to around 680 kroner (85 euro) for a fixed menu with the cheapest available white wine. Lofoten also takes its inspiration from the islands, but goes in for more elaborate preparations. That menu featured confit of arctic char drizzled with hazelnut oil, a saffron-tinted soup with scallops, grilled fillet of Finnish pike-perch and white chocolate tart with strawberry sorbet.Ironically, given the price, the bar at this modern, glass fronted place overlooking the harbour is named after the novelist Knut Hamsun who’s best known book “Hunger” tells the tale of a starving writer wandering the streets of the city.
Lofotstua, Kirkeveien, 40, Oslo. Tel. +47-22 46 93 96.
Lofoten, Stranden, 75, Oslo. Tel. +47-22 83 68 66.
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