An Icelandic Reading Ritual in the Kitchen
There’s something about Icelandic literature that demands a certain reverence—a slowing down, a deepening into something elemental. As I journey through The Greenhouse by Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir, where each page feels like “the Earth slows down its spinning just a little” (quote from my review that you can read here) I find myself craving rituals that match the novel’s contemplative rhythm.
Tonight, I’m preparing a soup that feels like Iceland itself—a fusion of fiskisúpa (fish soup) and humarsúpa (lobster soup) that captures the essence of both tradition and innovation. Starting with a rich lobster bisque base, I’m adding tender pieces of salmon, flaky cod, and sweet shrimp—three treasures from northern waters that seem to echo the novel’s quiet profundity.
Like Ólafsdóttir’s prose, this soup speaks in the language of simplicity and depth. The ingredients are few but essential, much like the novel’s spare yet profound observations on life. Each piece of fish carries within it the memory of icy waters and vast landscapes—those same elemental forces that shape the characters in The Greenhouse.
There’s an honesty in these ingredients from the sea, a directness that mirrors the novel’s unflinching yet gentle gaze at human experience. The soup’s rhythm matches the book’s own: unhurried, contemplative, allowing each flavor to emerge naturally, just as each emotion and revelation surfaces in the story with quiet inevitability.
There’s something meditative about preparing this soup while Ólafsdóttir’s prose unfolds nearby. The gentle simmering mirrors the novel’s meandering pace, each ingredient added feels deliberate, unhurried—like the protagonist’s journey through life’s great moments of birth, commitment, discovery, and loss.
This is slow cooking for slow reading, where the ritual of preparation becomes as nourishing as the meal itself. Sometimes the most profound experiences happen not in grand gestures, but in these quiet moments where literature and life intertwine, where a bowl of soup becomes a meditation, and a novel becomes a way of being present with the world.
What reading rituals ground you in the moment?
Description
This recipe is a unique fusion of two classic Icelandic soups, combining the creamy, hearty nature of fiskisupa (fish soup) with the rich, luxurious flavor of humarsupa (lobster soup). The result is a satisfying and flavorful dish that highlights the best of both.
Ingredients
Instructions
- Sauté the aromatics: In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat the olive oil or butter over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and leek. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are soft and translucent, about 5-7 minutes. Add a splash of port and cook for another minute, scraping any bits from the bottom of the pot.
- Build the base: Add the diced potatoes to the pot and stir to coat them with the onion and leek mixture. Pour in the 1.5 liters of water (or seafood stock) and add the bay leaf and tomato paste. Bring the soup to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer. Cook for 10-15 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender when pierced with a fork.
- Add the bisque: Pour the lobster bisque (or clam juice/seafood stock) into the pot. Stir well. Let the soup gently simmer for another 5 minutes to allow the flavors to meld.
- Cook the seafood: Gently add the fish and shrimp to the soup. Do not stir vigorously, as the fish can break apart. Let the seafood poach gently in the hot soup for about 3-5 minutes, or until the salmon and cod are opaque and the shrimp are pink and curled. Be careful not to overcook the seafood, as it will become tough.
- Final adjustments: Remove the bay leaf from the pot. Taste the soup and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper as needed. Once the heat is off, add the sour cream and stir gently.
- Serve: Ladle the hot soup into bowls. For a classic touch, garnish with fresh dill or chopped chives and a dollop of sour cream.
A Note from The Literary Kitchen
I imagine this soup simmering gently in the serene stillness of Benedikt’s garden, the steam rising like a quiet contemplation. It’s a dish that embodies the Icelandic spirit of turning simple elements—fish, earth, water—into something deeply nourishing and comforting. The gentle rhythm of its creation is a form of meditation itself, much like tending to a garden.
If you create your own, I’d love to see it! Share your creation on Instagram with the hashtag #RitualOfReadingFood and tag @ritual_of_reading. Let’s cultivate a collection of these culinary stories, each one a testament to the quiet beauty of a good meal.
Written by Alexandra Poppy
Writer, reader & curator of The Ritual of Reading
I’m Alexandra, the voice behind The Ritual of Reading. Somewhere between a stack of novels and a half-finished pot of tea, I keep finding traces of the life I want to live—slower, richer, filled with stories. The Ritual of Reading is where I gather what I love: books that linger, places with a past, and rituals that make ordinary days feel a little more meaningful. I write from Paris, where elegant bookshops and old-fashioned cafés offer endless inspiration—and I share it here, hoping it brings a spark to your own days, too.
