Humarsúpa - An Icelandic-Style Soup

1/12/2019 Update: I love this recipe. It’s been on the blog for years, and my photography has come a long way, so I gave it a face lift — same recipe as always, though!

I've been waiting for the right moment to make this soup. A day when everything outside just feels chilled and frosted over and the wind is whipping at the windows.

When we visited Reykjavik this summer, there was a full-blown wind storm gusting us from little shop to little shop. It forced us to accept every offer of free coffee, and left us chilled to the bone. By noon, we were begging for soup. We wandered down to the pier and found a boater’s hut serving Humarsúpa. There were plenty of tables outside, but all were vacant as all the customers huddle inside to evade the wind.

We ordered and found a seat at an old wooden cafeteria-style table, fishing nets and other sailing equipment (which I maybe could’ve named, if I new better), hung from the ceiling and the walls as decoration.

So…

What’s humarsúpa?

It’s a creamy soup made with langoustine (langoustine is a type of prawn similar to lobster, known as the “Norway Lobster”) and potatoes and a touch of curry powder. It’s a bit like lobster bisque, though langoustines are lighter in flavor.

And if you’re thinking, But where can I find langoustine? You’re in luck! I buy it in the frozen foods aisle at Trader Joe’s — imagine that! It’s already shelled which makes putting this soup together a breeze!

This soup is lighter than most chowders, with a broth base and a cup of cream. (You can use coconut milk for dairy-free). I don’t use a roux to thicken it, it doesn’t need it — but if you are looking for a much thicker soup consistency, you might want to add a roux to the beginning.

The curry powder makes each bowl a bright yellow color, a little splash of sun on the greyest day.

On that most windy day, sitting on the edge of Reykjavik’s coast, that soup was exactly what we needed — there could not have been a better thing to eat.

Every time I make humarsúpa I’m immediately taken back to the grey views in Iceland. Nostalgia in a bowl!

Humarsupa

Published November 28, 2015 by Caitlin Sherwood

Yield: 10 cups   |    Active Time: 30 minutes

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Ingredients:

1 tablespoon coconut oil

1 yellow onion, diced

3 stalks celery, diced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1-2 russet potatoes, diced (2 if they are small, about 2 cups diced)

2 carrots, diced

1 tablespoon curry powder

1/16 teaspoon cayenne

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

6 cups chicken or fish broth

1 cup heavy cream or 1 13.5-ounce can coconut milk for dairy-free

1 pound frozen, peeled and precooked langoustine tails (Available at Trader Joes)

3 tablespoons fresh chives, minced

Directions:

1. Heat coconut oil in the bottom of a soup pot on medium heat. Add onion, celery, and garlic, and stir, sautéing until onion is just starting to turn translucent.
2. Add potatoes and diced carrots. Add curry powder, cayenne, salt, pepper, and broth. Place lid on pot, and simmer soup for 10 minutes.
3. Reduce heat to medium-low, and add frozen langoustine tails and cream. Stir, place lid on pot, and gently simmer for 5 more minutes.
4. Stir soup, and turn off heat. Ladle into bowls, and garnish with fresh chives. Serve hot.

Chilean-Style Ceviche

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When my plane touched down in Santiago, I let out a gasp of air. It had taken several essays, two planes, and a long visa-application process to get there. The first plane had performed an emergency landing, and by some stroke of luck the customer service rep that answered my plea for another plane ride got me on the next direct flight out of Denver. That first flight took it's toll on me though- it wasn't until I was actually in Santiago that I felt like I could breath again. Despite everything, I made it to Chile just in time to catch a ride with the other students that had flown in that day. 

The first days are all a blur now, but it when I first met my host family, I was both relieved and completely nervous at the same time. I had no idea what it was like to live with siblings, and I had no idea where their house was (or where I was) in relation to everything else in the city. I had a map, tucked into my "Intro to Study Abroad" packet, but the actual roads clearly did not line up with those found on it. The one constant was rolling hills with inconsistently marked intersections. 

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That would all change over the course of the next three months. Not the intersections, but my feelings about them, and my ability to navigate Viña del Mar, Valparaiso, and the gap between them. I would know the sound of the fish seller trucking up and down the street to sell the catch of the day, and I would know the smell of baking hallulla at the bakery three doors down. I even got used to the hill-top view of the beach, which rolled seamlessly from city skyline in the south to dusty sand dunes in the north, though it never loss it's power to awe me, especially when the light was right. 

After only a few months, even my cooking style had changed, influenced by Mamá Sandra (my host mom) and the long days we would spend crammed into her tiny kitchen, talking about food and the differences between Chilean cuisine and North American cuisine. I didn't get to cook much- in classic Chilean fashion, Mamá Sandra made breakfast, lunch, dinner, and once (tea time) everyday, for everyone in the house.

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With out fail, once a week Sandra would flag down the fisherman as he made his rounds through the neighborhood (or rather, he would flag her down, knowing she would pay a fair price). That night, she'd either bake the fish over onions or dice it up and toss it in lemon juice, making ceviche. 

There's a certain intimidation factor that comes with ceviche, at least for someone that's live land locked their entire life. For some reason, until I lived with Sandra, it was an untouchable dish to be made only by pros (and my dad, who was never daunted by the intimidation factor of a dish). Three months of living in Viña del Mar cleared that up for me. I learned that classic Chilean Ceviche is pretty much a fool-proof dish, as long as you can buy fresh fish. Requirement for making this ceviche = eight ingredients, 15 minutes, and a stroke of confidence. 

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This recipe was shared on Real Food Fridays #97.

Chilean-Style Ceviche

Paleo, Gluten-Free, Grain-Free,    |   Caitlin Sherwood   |   

A classic South American style ceviche.

Serves: 4 for dinner, 10 as an appetizer   |    Total Time: 15 minutes

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Ingredients:

• 1 pound fresh white fish (I use tilapia)
• Juice from 1 large lemon
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1/4 cup red onion, minced
• 2 bell peppers, finely diced (I like to use 2 different colors)
• 1/4 cup cilantro, minced
• Salt & Pepper
• Dash of cayenne

Directions:

1. Dice the fish into 1-cm cubes. Place in serving bowl, and drizzle with lemon juice. Cover with saran wrap and place in fridge. Allow to sit for 1 hour.
2. Add the garlic, onion, bell peppers, and cilantro. Toss until incorporated.
3. Season with salt & pepper, and add a dash of cayenne. Toss to distribute. Allow the fish to marinate for 30 more minutes. The fish should being to turn opaque and white (it may not be completely opaque). Serve immediately.
4. Serving tip: ceviche is usually served with small pieces of toast (here’s a paleo recipe), crackers, chips, or toastones, but I often serve it on a piece of lettuce, like a lettuce wrap.

Salmon, Shiitakes & Chard in Parchment with Sriracha Aioli (Paleo)

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When life hands you a bag full of organic locally-grown shiitake mushrooms, you don't just throw them into any old dish. Oh no. 

First, you brainstorm all of the ways you could use the mushrooms. Surely you've filed  away something with potential in that brain of yours. 

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When the brainstorming slows down, you whip out your tablet or computer (whichever is closer) and you search all of your previous pins for the words "shiitake," and "mushroom". You open every potential recipe in a separate tab to read later. Then you expand your search: you browse everyone else's pins for the words "shiitake," and "mushroom". You open more tabs. 

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Once you've exhausted Pinterest, you make your way around the web. Foodgawker. Tastespotting. Stalkerville. Google image searches. The word Shiitake can now be found in the last 500 pages of your browser history. That's when you start pinning like a lunatic. All of your followers probably know now that your fridge is full of shiitake mushrooms. 

It's okay. They understand, because that's how everyone does it, right? ;) 

At some point, something just feels good. All of that pinning and you've got one shot. Finally you get to cook. 

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This recipe is part of the Real Food Fat Tuesday round up. Find more real food recipes on the Real Food Forager's round up post! 

Salmon, Shiitakes & Chard in Parchment with Sriracha Aioli

Paleo, Gluten-Free, Grain-Free    |   Caitlin Sherwood    

Serves: 4   |    Total Time: 60 minutes

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Ingredients:

For the Salmon, Shiitakes & Chard:
• 1 pound organic shiitake mushrooms
• 1/4 white onion
• 2 tablespoon avocado oil
• 2 tablespoon organic wheat-free tamari, traditional fermented soy sauce, or coconut aminos
• 1 bunch swiss chard (or about 5 large leaves)
• 2 pound wild caught Alaskan salmon filet
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 1 tablespoon minced ginger
• 3 small thai or vietnamese chili peppers, minced (NOTE: use less or completely eliminate this ingredient if you are spice-sensative, use more if you are a spice lover)
• Salt
• Cilantro, minced, for garnish
• Parchment paper
For the Sriracha Aioli:
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 2 tablespoons lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons Sriracha hot sauce (You caught me: Sriracha is not paleo).
• Pinch salt

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 400°F. Wash and slice the mushrooms and onion. Cut the stems off of the chard leaves, setting the leaves aside for later use. Chop the stems into 1/2-inch pieces. Toss the mushrooms, onion, and chard stems in a bowl with the avocado oil and tamari, mixing until all of the vegetables are coated. Chop the chard leaves into thin ribbons, and set them aside as well.
2. Then cut your salmon filet into 8 equally sized portions. Then, prepare the parchment: cut out 8 circles with a 1-foot diameter each. Rub each piece of paper with avocado oil. A thin layer is fine, but be thorough--spread the oil all the way to the edges.
3. Working with one parchment circle at a time, place a handful of the chopped chard leaves on the paper. (TIP: You want to place the food just off from the center--not in the center. Think of the paper as the crust of a calazone. One half of it will fold over top of the food.). Add a handful of the mushroom mixture over the chard, and place one salmon filet over that, and sprinkle with salt. Top with a pinch of garlic, ginger, and a few pieces of chili pepper. Fold the parchment over the salmon. The two opposite edges of your parchment paper should now touch. Working from one side, fold the edge of the parchment paper over, creating a seem that closes the salmon into a parchment pocket. Work around the circle, folding a small amount of the edge over, until you have reached the other side of the pocket. Place on a baking pan. Repeat with the 7 other parchment circles and salmon filets.
4. Bake for 15-20 minutes (15 for very thin filets of fish, 20 for thicker filets). While the fish bakes, prepare the aioli. Put all of the ingredients in a blender and turn it on. The mixture should become thick, opaque, and a light pinkish color. Add more hot sauce if you like things spicier (we do).
5. When the salmon is done baking, place each parchment packet on a plate to serve. Cut open the center of the paper pocket, revealing the salmon. Top each filet with a dollop of mayo, and sprinkle with cilantro.