Reykjavik Plokkfiskur
Article
In LaBouffe, I gladly return to a recipe that says a great deal with very little, because I prefer quiet honesty to grand declarations, including at the table. Plokkfiskur, the quintessential Icelandic dish, is with me in those moments when I crave simple warmth—a meal without theatrics, yet with flavour and substance. I love it for what it says about the rhythm of life in Iceland: straightforward, nourishing cooking built around fish, milk, butter and patience. When I think of Reykjavik, I also think of that feeling of coming in from the cold, almost mineral air, with the promise of a dish that immediately restores both body and mind. There is something very right about this recipe for me: it does not try to impress; it comforts, brings people together, and leaves room for conversation—which suits me perfectly. For four people, I use around 600 g of cooked or poached white fish, often cod or haddock, 500 g of potatoes, one large onion, 40 g of butter, 40 g of flour, 35 cl of milk, a little of the cooking milk if I have saved some, salt, white pepper and, depending on my mood, a hint of nutmeg. First, I cook the potatoes in salted water, then drain them and cut them into fairly large pieces so that they hold their shape. Meanwhile, I gently melt the butter, sauté the sliced onion in it without allowing it to colour, then add the flour to make a pale roux. I gradually pour in the milk while whisking, until I have a smooth, velvety sauce. I then flake the fish, add the potatoes, and fold everything together gently so as not to turn the dish into a mash, before allowing it to simmer for a few minutes over a very low heat. I adjust the seasoning, add plenty of pepper, and serve it piping hot, sometimes with dark bread or a dense rye loaf, of the kind so readily eaten in Iceland. What I love about this recipe is that it remains true to the Icelandic spirit while fitting with my own relationship to cooking: I look for balance, clarity, and that kind of lasting pleasure that never becomes tiring. Reykjavik plokkfiskur gives me exactly that. I can make it after a day of work, after a photo shoot, or whenever I need a dinner that does not distract me from what matters most. It has the restraint of hearty dishes and the gentleness of meals shared without rushing. For me, it is a true LaBouffe recipe: vibrant, simple, grounded cooking that speaks as much about taste as it does about the rhythm of life.
Information
Where: IS