Siggi's Thunder Bread
Iceland, Europe’s westernmost country, has nothing less than spectacular landscapes – full of mountains, volcanoes, glaciers, fjords, waterfalls and of course the famous geysers. Drive a few kilometers and the light changes, and so do the weather conditions. My work for our Bread Project brought me here and I was really looking forward to see how thunderbread, rúgbrauð” or “hverabrauð, was prepared. Before leaving home, I contacted Sigurdur Hilmarsson (‘please call me Siggi)’, manager and chef at Laugarvatn Fontana, a thermal spring. He said I was welcome to see and photograph how he steamed rúgbrauð, slow-cooked Icelandic rye bread. Soon after, I landed in Reykjavik, rented a 4x4 and drove into the Icelandic night (that started around 3 PM in December!) heading east into a pitch dark landscape, snow all around, icy roads and no street lights whatsoever. I hardly saw any oncoming traffic but did meet several road blocks on the way. By the time I reached Fontana, the only thing I wanted was to submerge myself in one of those attractively illuminated bubbling pools, steaming into freezing air and with a slight whiff of sulphur (‘rotten egg smell’), which I actually liked.
It was only the next morning at around 10:30 AM on my way to meet Siggi, that darkness was replaced by skies that changed from deep purple, into pink, gold and I couldn’t believe the beauty of the landscape I was crossing. And this was only day one at work in Iceland. Lucky me!
Siggi dug a hole just deep enough to see the hot bubbling water and to bury the pan, then covered it.
Approaching Laugarvatn Fontana in daylight now, I saw its location on the banks of a huge frozen lake, surrounded by black volcanic sand beaches, mostly covered in snow. It was 12 degrees Celsius below zero, but I could see steam rising from a thermal spring near Fontana, which heats not only these wonderful bubbling pools and steam cabins I submerged myself into yesterday night, but also produce the heat to steam the rye bread.
I had read about Icelanders enjoying sheep’s head, blood pudding, fermented shark and ram’s testicles, but I will focus on Thunder Bread, which sounds pretty scary too, right?
Siggi at Laugarvatn Fontana, welcomed me and introduced me to Thunderbread. We went into the kitchen and to my surprise, within a few minutes, he just threw a few ingredients into a bowl: 4 cups rye flour, 2 cups plain flour, 2 cups sugar, 1 liter of milk and a pinch of salt. That’s it. He mixed it quickly, then put into a buttered metal pan tightly wrapped with cling film. That’s it? Yes, that’s it! No nonsense, no complicated procedures, a bread just perfect for me, except that I don’t have a geyser in my backyard, but we’ll cross that bridge later.
We wore our hat and gloves, Siggy took an spade and headed outside to the grunting, steaming side of the lake. He dug a hole just deep enough to see the hot bubbling water and to bury the pan, then covered it. Now, the heat of the geothermal spring had to do its job for 24 hours and we returned to Fontana’s restaurant to share a coffee before I would hit the road to return tomorrow to unearth the bread.
Siggy displayed the rúgbrauð on a breadboard, this time with some salmon, slices of egg and butter that would melt the moment it touched the fresh bread.
I had now seen the process of mixing the ingredients, the burying of the pot and the unearthing of the bread, I had tasted the warm, rather sweet and spongy slow cooked delicious ‘cakeish’ bread. By now I knew that rúgbrauð means rye bread, but what about the thunder? Did I miss a famous Icelandic saga that narrates about this bread? Was it served to the god of Thunder? Any Viking heroic story that explains the name Thunderbread?
It appeared to be a lot more straightforward. Very much in line with the no-nonsense way the bread itself is prepared: if you enjoy too much of this bread, you may well end up being a þrumari , a thunderer, a flatulent person. Be warned!
I will share two rúgbrauð recipes with you. As you will most probably not have a geyser at hand, we will use a slow cooker or an oven at a low temperature. It’s a slow process whichever method you prefer, so use a day off spent at home, or let the slow cooker do it’s work overnight, so you’ll wake up on a Sunday with fresh Thunderbread. If you prefer a plant based (vegan) version, use plant based milk (like almond milk) instead of butter milk.
Darkness was replaced by skies that changed from deep purple, into pink.
I still couldn’t believe the beauty I landed myself in.
A small box with still warm Thunderbread.