4 of the best food experiences in Tromsø

Many of the travellers who venture beyond the Arctic Circle to Norway’s northern capital, Tromsø, do so with very realistic hopes of seeing the Northern Lights. But those who come chiefly to be dazzled by the Aurora Borealis will find a city capable of springing plenty of culinary surprises, thanks to a varied dining scene reflecting a population that’s more cosmopolitan than some might assume. At its root, however, is a world-class offering of fresh local fish, from herring to halibut, served on its own, as sushi or in a delicious soups and stews.

1. Seafood special: Fiskekompaniet

During Tromsø’s evocative midwinter nights, two very different worlds exist alongside each other. Outdoors, snowflakes drift to the ground as shadowy figures shuffle under the glow of streetlamps, their heads bowed as if a Lowry painting has sprung to life. Indoors, the warmth and colour is overwhelming, and smiles come easily when refuge is taken. 

My thaw takes place at Fiskekompaniet (‘The Fishing Company’), a waterside seafood restaurant with windows that stretch to the ceiling, offering a sublime view across the harbour. As evening falls, distant lights flare from a ghostly hillside and the spindly, lit-up legs of the Tromsø Bridge spider across a vast fjord. The frozen night lends an ethereal stillness to the scene. 

Fiskekompaniet has been serving up north Norwegian seafood since 1996, though its contemporary decor and navy, brown and gold colour scheme feel very modern. In a smart spot like this, it’s easy to forget that I’m sitting more than 200 miles north of the Arctic Circle. But despite its latitude and unforgiving climate, quality regional produce is still grown here, like the root vegetables, fruits and berries that bask in the round-the-clock daylight of the summer months. 

Tromsø earned its rather peacocking nickname of ‘the Paris of the north’ due to its once relative sophistication compared to the rest of stark Arctic Norway. The legacy of this is a diverse population, with the city now represented by more than 100 nationalities. It’s something that’s reflected in the breadth of dining options available here, from slow-cooked Palestinian lamb and rice at Yalla Habibi to fresh pasta dishes under La Famiglia’s rustic oak beams.

But tonight, I’ve fish on my mind. At Fiskekompaniet, evening service brings a pitch-perfect wine pairing for each of head chef Leik Torsteinsen’s six courses — the succulent Arctic char served with potato puree and pickled gooseberry sauce blends magnificently with the gentle, buttery texture of a Sandhi chardonnay from California’s Central Coast.

Next up is Torsteinsen’s signature skrei cod with mushroom duxelles and potato puree, the delicate fish crumbling as I eagerly lop off thick hunks of its silky flesh. Against the usual advice, it pairs well with a red — a spätburgunder (pinot noir). After just a few forkfuls, I can understand why the fish is so beloved. “Norwegians won’t eat cod if it’s not skrei,” says my server. “It’s the god of cod.”

Outside, the weather is growing wilder, with the snow thrashing ever more furiously against the beams of car headlights. It’s curiously captivating, especially set against the meandering jazz soundtrack drifting from the restaurant’s hidden speakers. 

The meal ends with a deliriously sweet angelica white chocolate sorbet and, once it’s polished off, I’m sated and happy. Yet, strangely, I find myself eager to feel the icy Arctic blast outside again. I can’t explain why. Both sides of this city are thrilling.

2. Arctic fishing on MS Trolltind

“I like the rain,” announces Captain Frank Olsen from the bow of MS Trolltind, while arching his face to the clouds. “It’s like a cheap shower.”

A light drizzle cascades down from overcast skies and frigid Arctic winds whip across the boat’s white deck as we rev out of Tromsø harbour and into the yawning Tromsøysundet strait. The temperature hovers at around -5C. These may not seem ideal conditions for a fishing trip, but Frank doesn’t appear bothered as he introduces me to Dennis, his white Yorkshire Terrier curled up in the skipper’s chair in front of the boat’s large wooden wheel. “He’s the real captain,” says Frank, placing a peaked cap on the dog’s head.

Fishing has been Frank’s lifelong passion since childhood. Out on the deck, his son Bjørn  teaches me how to cast a line. These bitter northern waters are home to a plethora of marine life, including herring, halibut, salmon and even basking shark. Today, however, we’re chasing cod. 

After some awkward initial attempts, I start to enjoy lashing the line out to sea, even as frozen gusts continue to blast the side of the boat. “This is the most wind we’ve had since I started helping Dad on these tours,” Bjørn exclaims, looking out towards the landscape. A mist shrouds the rising grey mountains across the fjord and red houses dot the hillsides, like distant Monopoly pieces.

I heave out a few more futile attempts. It’s been exhilarating, but there’s been no catch today. Back in the warmth of the boat’s lower deck, my hands thaw out on a bowl of Frank’s homemade fish soup, a hearty staple of northern Norway. It’s a creamy combination of soft white cod and milky pink salmon, garnished with generous, aromatic chunks of carrot, potato and onion. Hefty slices of kneippbrød (a popular Norwegian wholegrain bread) are piled up next to it.

“I like to boil the fish in water and add plenty of salt,” says Frank later, describing how he cooks cod at home. “I turn off the heat and let it soak until it’s falling apart, then I mix it with potatoes, carrots and butter.” It sounds delightful. Perhaps I’ll come back and help him catch one.

3. Dining with the Sami: Tromsø Arctic Reindeer experience

Under Arctic Norway’s deep rural darkness, the puffy plumes of grey smoke rising from the side of the road indicate we’re nearing camp. I crunch across matted snow towards a floodlit scene, where three lavvus (pyramid-shaped tents used by the Sami people) are flanked by a vast herd of docile reindeer methodically scanning the snow for food. I’m guided into the first tent, where a sudden blast of heat hits me like a warm hug from an old relative. 

This campsite across the Tromsøysundet strait is far away from the glare of Tromsø’s city lights and is a quiet, reflective place in which to learn about Norway’s Sami people — and as an added bonus, there’s a chance of seeing the Northern Lights, too. 

After an amusing feeding session, during which the reindeer enthusiastically gobble dried food from my blue plastic bucket, I head to the largest of the glowing lavvus. The tents are similar to the Native American tipi, but built a little lower to the ground in order to guard against the icy winds. 

Inside the snug lavvu, an enormous pot of bidos is bubbling away on the fire. An unctuous stew made with reindeer meat, carrots, potatoes and a little water, its rich broth sends waves of aromas floating around the tent. But while the meat smells enticing, reindeer here are more than simply an ingredient in a recipe.

“Sami people, like every other Indigenous people, have a lot of respect for nature and animals,” says Inga Margrethe Eira, a Sami camp host. “We’re not allowed to plan when we slaughter reindeer and we’re not allowed to think about it, because we don’t want the reindeer to know. 

“In the old days, Sami people believed that animals could read your mind,” she explains. “So, we have to do it very spontaneously.”

We dine by the light of a crackling fire and a small candle on the table. The reindeer meat is earthy, chewy and very satisfying. Accompanied only by hunks of thick gahkko (Sami bread), this soothing stew could keep the cold out for months. 

4. A feast under the lights: Brim Explorer

“Don’t worry, this isn’t God speaking,” says our host Josephine into a microphone. “I’m coming up to see you soon.” 

The sleek MS Brim, a hybrid-electric double-decker boat, fills up and chugs out of the harbour into Tromsøysundet strait’s twinkling darkness. In a light French accent, Josephine informs us we’re about to enjoy a locally sourced four-course meal, with the alluring possibility of seeing the Northern Lights at any time. Then the engine switches to electric and silence falls as the brightly lit shores behind us fade into the distance, the MS Brim gliding north in search of less light pollution. 

Somewhat transfixed at my window seat, I’m snapped back to reality when the starters are served. I’m presented with delicate cubes of smoked reindeer heart and pickled mushrooms alongside small slabs of salty focaccia, with the tender reindeer complementing the acidity of the mushrooms wonderfully. 

The microphone duties are soon taken by Sam Donck, a Belgian marine biologist who’s readying a short talk to the crowd about the science behind the Northern Lights. But first, he has rather more pressing news, advising everyone that the lights are currently visible from the top deck — cue a crash of cutlery hitting plates and a mass of passengers scurrying upstairs. 

Sure enough, high above the frosty top deck, a bright-green streak scorches across the black sky between parted clouds. Everyone cranes their necks in awe at the majestic sight above and, although the spectacle lasts only a few minutes before the clouds return, it has already ensured this is one of the most remarkable meals I’ve ever had. 

Back downstairs, the main is served: a creamy smoked cod fillet cooked in a hot casserole with herbs and bechamel sauce and finished with a crisp topping. It’s a silky delight, with a lingering touch of burning spice, the type of meal that lingers on your mind afterward. But this time, my mind is somewhere else — on a cosmic spectacle that takes some topping.