Sophie Morris swapped beef mince for mackerel and olive oil for rapeseed to test the heart-healthy eating trend
When I think about eating a Nordic diet, two very different ideas spring to mind. In the first, I spend a contented month nose-deep in richly scented cardamom buns, indulging in the Swedish coffee-and-cake ritual known as fika.
In the second, I am transported to Noma, the infamous Danish restaurant where dinner for two will set you back well over £1,000 and might include duck brains and reindeer penis salad.
The reality of eating a regular Nordic diet, I’m both sorry and relieved to report, is quite different. The region includes the countries Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Iceland and Norway, along with the autonomous territories of Åland, the Faroe Islands and Greenland.
Eating the Nordic way means focusing on the foods that are indigenous to these areas - a pattern that is being increasingly associated with heath benefits such as a reduced risk of heart disease, as with the Mediterranean diet, though there is more research on the latter.
Greenland is a long way from home - about 2,000 miles - and the idea of replicating its high-protein diet of wild meat, including lots of seal and game, seems unlikely in my small town in east Kent.
The last time I went to Iceland I was served whale blubber, more than once, but the rest of the food I ate there was exemplary: purple venison, lobster soup, the best sushi I’ve ever had.
I drew the line at dried and pickled fish for breakfast, though, after seeing it on the hotel buffet. I love pickles, but not before the sun has come up.
MY NORDIC EXPERIMENT The weekend before I start my two-week experiment, I panic about all the delicious sunny summer vegetables that would be off the menu during a Nordic autumn and make a vat of ratatouille, which I eat all weekend, savouring the last of the courgettes and tomatoes.
“The Nordic Diet is built around seasonal, locally available foods such as rye, barley, oats, root vegetables, cabbages, berries, apples, pears, legumes, fish, shellfish and small amounts of low-fat dairy, with rapeseed oil as the primary fat,” explains Dr Federica Amati, head of nutrition at diet group Zoe. “Red and processed meats feature only sparingly.”
How is it different to the Mediterranean diet, which also focuses on whole foods and lots of fresh fruit and veg?
“The main differences from the Mediterranean diet are the reliance on rapeseed oil rather than extra virgin olive oil, and the use of rye, oats and barley rather than wheat as the staple grains,” explains dietitian Nichola LudlamRaine, author of How Not to Eat Ultra-Processed. “Both patterns are low in red and processed meat and rich in plant foods and fish.”
The heart-healthy potential of this way of eating is one of the principal reasons that it’s gaining traction in Western countries such as the US and the UK, where an over reliance on ultra-processed food is blamed for soaring rates on chronic disease.
Although I feel emotionally and geographically closer to the Med than the colder north and on a clear day can see Calais from home, I am also surrounded by plenty of produce common to Nordic diets, such as fields of brassicas, squash, potatoes and even rape, used just a few miles away to produce top quality oils.
I decide to start out with a menu described by Danish epidemiologist Dr Cecilie Kyrø, who studies how a traditional Nordic diet influences disease risk at the Danish Cancer Institute in Copenhagen.
On summer visits to her grandparents on Danish islands, she remembers eating cold, plain porridge, open sandwiches with pickled herrings, and fish and root vegetables for dinner. Meat was served rarely, and in small portions.
I am suspicious of the cold, plain porridge. For me, the point of porridge is that it is a nice warm breakfast and a vehicle for delicious toppings like stewed apple, fresh berries, chopped nuts and seeds and dollops of honey, peanut butter or tahini.
I figure that Kyrø’s was most likely plain because of what was in her grandparents’ cupboard. As I’ve been given a bag of apples from my parents’ garden, and know they are plentiful in Nordic countries, I stew them and add a generous spoonful. The cold part, it turns out, is more of a functional thing: overnight oats are popular as an easy do-ahead breakfast.
I like the idea of smørrebrød, the open sandwiches often eaten in Nordic countries, but fear they’re not very substantial compared with generous crunchy salads I often prepare for lunch.
However, the good rye bread brought from a local bakery is so dense that it fills me up pretty quickly. I don’t fancy a sandwich topped with rollmops, the popular northern European snack of pickled herring wrapped around a gherkin or onion.
Instead, I prepped lightly pickled fresh mackerel fillets in advance, cured in wine and vinegar, carrots and onion. The mackerel was caught locally and the root veg hit a Nordic note.
The real test is whether I’ll continue to eat in this way. I can see the benefit to eating more rye, as well as the focus on seasonal produce. It feels healthier not to rely as much as I usually do on mince, and venison is a good substitute for beef.
Without a doubt, Nordic cuisine remains some of the most novel and exciting in the world thanks to the diligent campaign of the New Nordic chefs. But I definitely feel brainwashed about the benefits of olive oil - I just cannot give it up.