It’s too bad Iceland is so far away from St. Louis. Not for easy access to the northern lights, geysers or glaciers (though they are on my bucket list), but rather, to visit Dill, the restaurant in Reykjavík run by Gunnar Gíslason, Iceland’s most celebrated contemporary chef.
Reading Gíslason’s new cookbook, North: The New Nordic Cuisine of Iceland, it’s clear why he’s has been lauded for showcasing his Nordic country’s culinary heritage. I think it would be safe to go a step further and posit Gíslason among a class of chefs around the globe currently shaping a culinary movement called regionalism. The term is cropping up more often to mean the use of ingredients native to a particular place. As I see it, regionalism isn’t just about sourcing what is grown and raised locally, but sourcing what has always been local. Indigenous edibles certainly include what is grown or caught in the wild, and in the book, Gíslasont takes the reader on a remarkable culinary adventure through land and sea in and around his homeland.
For lack of materials, I dismissed trying time-honored Icelandic techniques discussed in North, such as dirt-smoking fish using a dried block of compressed hay and sheep manure. Making skyr, a traditional Icelandic yogurt, sounded interesting until I learned about Gíslason’s extensive mustard program at Dill. One of his mustard recipes calls for beer, and conveniently it’s October – high season for beer and mustard.
Gíslason’s mustard recipe is the kind that will make home cooks with a well-stocked pantry giddy as they root through shelves for mustard seeds, juniper berries and whole allspice.
It takes little skill and about 10 seconds to mix the dry mustard and mustard seeds with a bottle of beer. Gíslason’s recipe calls for arctic thyme beer or another pale ale. Were I in Iceland, I’d have hunted down some arctic thyme beer, but I’m in St. Louis, so I grabbed a can of Schlafly. Call it regionalism – or argue the definition of regionalism over a beer since you’ll have 12 hours to kill while the mustard-laden beer rests in the fridge.
Cider vinegar, juniper, allspice and thyme are the basis for a pickling solution that is brought to a boil before sugar and salt are added. The herbal brine is then combined with the beer-mustard seed mixture, transferred to a glass jar and refrigerated. Find something else to do for the next three weeks – like participating in a local pumpkin beer-drinking competition.
Home-made condiments are always a delight to have on hand. In this case, after 21 days, you’ll have a crunchy, colorful, tangy whole-grain mustard that can be the star of an impromptu meat and cheese board. All you’ll need is a local (or regional) beer to go with it.
Gunnar Karl Gíslason’s Beer Mustard
Makes about 1½ cups
1¼ cups artic thyme beer or other pale ale
1 Tbsp. dry yellow mustard
3 Tbsp. black mustard seeds
3 Tbsp. yellow mustard seeds
½ cup cider vinegar
6 juniper berries
6 whole allspice
3 Tbsp. dried artic thyme
1½ Tbsp. light brown sugar
2 Tbsp. sea salt
• In a bowl, stir together the beer, dry mustard and mustard seeds, mixing well. Cover and refrigerate for 12 hours.
• Combine the vinegar, juniper, allspice and thyme in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Add the sugar and salt and stir until dissolved. Remove from the heat, add the mustard seed base, and mix well. Transfer to a heatproof glass jar and let cool to room temperature. Cap tightly and refrigerate for 3 weeks before using.
Reprinted with permission from 10 Speed Press What one food is not the same without mustard? Tell us in the comments below for a chance to win a copy of North.
This article appears in October 2014.