Essentially Local Slippurinn

Chef Gísli Matt’s restaurant Slippurinn is on a tiny Icelandic island buffeted by trade winds in the middle of the Atlantic and only opens for a short season. The Common Table talked to him about decolonising island cuisine and whether “local fine dining” is an oxymoron or an answer.

Slippurinn is a restaurant situated near the harbour of a 10,000-years-young active volcanic island archipelago south of Iceland. Buffeted by trade winds barrelling across the Atlantic from South America, Vestmannaeyjar (the Westman Islands) have a harsh climate and even in summer you can never be sure that the ferry from the mainland will be running. Slippurinn (the name means “slipway”) was founded in 2011 by a young local chef with a dream of creating a high-end restaurant that took traditional Icelandic cuisine and blended it with modern techniques. Just over a decade later, Gísli Matt has become something of an international legend. A much-admired chef’s chef, foraging and cooking seasonal ingredients the islands can provide, with a new team every year who come to learn his unique blend of contemporary technique, centuries of local knowledge and singular flavours.

The Common Table: How do you balance keeping up with demand, showcasing your cuisine and making the business profitable without exhausting local resources or even damaging the local ecosystem?

Gísli Matt: At Slippurinn, the balance is key. We operate with a deep respect for the natural resources here in Vestmannaeyjar, so while the demand is always exciting, we never let it outweigh the importance of sustainability. The limited season allows us to focus intensely on quality over quantity, ensuring that we’re not exhausting local resources.

There is close collaboration between the team from the restaurant, local fishermen and farmers to ensure we harvest responsibly and always with an eye on preserving the ecosystem. It’s about finding that harmony between the bounty of nature and our passion for showcasing it in the best possible way, all while ensuring that nature continues to thrive. Also, the wild ingredients that we forage small amounts from are very abundant on the islands.

The Common Table: There is a running narrative in gastronomy that local is always “good” and sustainable but now you have been practising this way for over a decade has your view shifted?

Gísli Matt: Without a doubt, over a decade of practice has deepened our understanding. Initially, it was about using what was nearby and fresh. Now, we see this as part of a larger narrative – local isn’t just good, it’s essential but only when approached thoughtfully. 

Over time, we’ve learned that true sustainability requires constant adaptation. It’s not just about using local ingredients; it’s about understanding the land, respecting seasonal cycles, and continuously innovating to ensure that the relationship between our cuisine and the environment remains symbiotic.

The Common Table: Is it honestly possible, in your view, to protect local food heritage in a commercial gastronomy context?

Gísli Matt: It’s challenging but yes, I believe it can. Protecting local food heritage in a commercial setting requires intentionality. It’s about staying true to the roots of the cuisine while adapting to the modern palate. 

At Slippurinn, we celebrate traditional Icelandic methods – whether curing, fermenting, or foraging – and find ways to introduce them to guests in a way that respects the past but feels exciting in the present. It’s not about preserving traditions in amber but allowing them to evolve naturally within a modern context. The key is to remain authentic, honouring the heritage while recognising that cuisine is a living, breathing thing – being open to changes.

The Common Table: A lot of local cuisines, especially in harsh climates like yours, have their roots in the struggle for survival and making do in times when other food crops failed. Is there a particular dish or type of dish that typifies that for you?

Gísli Matt: For me, one dish that embodies survival in Iceland’s harsh climate is skyr, our traditional cultured dairy product. It’s simple yet resilient, a testament to how Icelanders made the most of what they had. 

Historically, food preservation was about ensuring sustenance through long winters. Skyr, with its high protein content, was a staple. So too its by-product whey, which is a very important ingredient for the preservation of other foods.

Two other foodstuffs that have been very important here in the islands are harðfiskur, which is simply unsalted dried fish, full of umami and also dried dulse seaweed. That has always been the most foraged and consumed seaweed both here in the islands and on other mainland of Iceland in general. It has a liquorice, almost berry-like flavour.

The Common Table: When we talk to people working with food heritage on some other islands, another aspect of “local” cuisine that they mention is the foodstuffs colonisers brought with them. From plant and animal species to tinned, packaged and processed foods, such as spam, many have been incorporated into the food culture heritage of those places. Are there any imported ingredients that have become established parts of everyday Icelandic food culture that you would consider including in your cuisine?

Gísli Matt: Iceland has a unique food history, shaped by both its isolation and external influences. One ingredient that comes to mind is potatoes. They were introduced in the late 18th century and have become deeply rooted in Icelandic cuisine, despite not being native. While we focus on local ingredients at Slippurinn, we also recognise that Iceland’s food culture, like many others, has been influenced by imports. It’s about finding a balance –honouring what’s truly local, while also acknowledging the role that these imported ingredients have played in shaping Icelandic food traditions.

Another couple of examples are spices and dried fruits. We didn’t have fresh fruit until very late here in Iceland but dried fruits and spices are in many of the oldest references to be found on Icelandic food.

The Common Table: What foods did you eat as a child? And what foods were valued by you and your school friends?

Gísli Matt: Growing up, my meals were very much shaped by our environment. We ate a lot of fish caught fresh from the sea – simple, hearty dishes. Skyr was always a staple, and I have fond memories of homemade rye bread baked by my grandmother in the lava fields still warm from the 1973 eruption. Things like fish stew (plokkfiskur), fish cakes (fiskibollur) or kleina (Icelandic twisted doughnuts) were also staples.

The Common Table: Cooking only hyperlocally foraged, raised and caught ingredients could be seen as a way of decolonising Icelandic food culture. Is creating a bigger shift – not just in fine dining but in the everyday eating habits of Icelanders – towards such foods a goal for you?

Gísli Matt: Absolutely, it’s a long-term goal. Cooking with hyperlocal ingredients isn’t just about creating a unique dining experience it’s about fostering a deeper connection between people and the food that surrounds them. 

By showcasing what’s possible with local, foraged and sustainably-raised ingredients, we hope to inspire more people to seek out these ingredients in their daily lives. It’s not about imposing a fine-dining mentality on everyday meals but rather encouraging a mindset where local and seasonal food is not only valued but accessible to everyone.

I really think that true luxury is not about having wildly expensive produce; like champagne, foie gras, truffles or things like that. I think true luxury is when someone is ready to connect you to the place where they are, serving you foods that you wouldn’t otherwise get. Things like sea truffles, oyster leaves or drinks made out of local herbs harvested at the right time. Harvesting and preparing in a way that is at the same time beautiful, tasty and surprising. That, to me, is true luxury.

The Common Table: The Hawai’ian indigenous food expert Noa Kekuewa Lincoln recently told us he believes islanders have a lot to offer the world because “in their mindset, they’re much farther along the path of sustainability. Not because they are unique or amazing people per se, but because of their experience in terms of figuring out ways to adapt when they run up against resource limitations.” Would you agree and if yes, what can the world learn from Iceland’s unique foodways?

Gísli Matt: I agree wholeheartedly. Living on an island, you’re constantly aware of your limitations, which naturally leads to a more sustainable mindset and creative thinking. Islanders have had to adapt creatively to limited resources for centuries, and that experience fosters a deep respect for nature’s rhythms. Although, these days it is easier to buy an avocado from a faraway country than to find angelica or locally farmed vegetables that used to be staples here before. 

In Iceland, this manifests in our approach to food whether it’s our reliance on geothermal energy for our greenhouses or our tradition of preserving and fermenting foods for long winters. What the world can learn from Iceland’s foodways is the importance of working in harmony with the environment and understanding that sustainability isn’t a trend but a necessity.

Gísli Matthías Auðunsson was born in 1989 in Vestmannaeyjar, a small island town in Iceland, to a family of fishermen and cooks. Although the family moved to Reykjavík on the mainland when he was six, he always stayed close to my relatives on the island and spent summers with them. Aged 17 he went on his first eight-day fishing trip, was sick for seven of them, and realised his future did not lie in fishing. Gísli trained instead as a cook apprentice from 2007 to 2011 before opening Slippurinn restaurant with his family in Vestmannaeyjar in 2012. The restaurant is open from May to September each year with a new team of chefs for the season. The winters, he says, “are used to travel and get inspired”.

Further reading: Slippurinn: Recipes and Stories from Iceland, co-written by Nicholas Gill, pub. Phaidon, 2021.