Norway’s Enduring
Passion for Salt

(Salt) Christopher Haatuft is in high spirits. “The past few weeks have been truly summery—quite unusual for western Norway.” In keeping with the weather, he’s wearing pink mirrored sunglasses, a tattoo peeks out from under his T-shirt, and then there’s his trademark: a single gold tooth, a nod to his punk past. What might frustrate other chefs—namely, the weather—Haatuft, now in his early-forties, has embraced as a strength. “Here in Bergen, it rains about 250 days a year, and only around four percent of the surrounding land is suitable for agriculture. Because of the high humidity and low agricultural yield, western Norway’s culinary heritage is largely based on smoke and salt,” he says. The latter came inland with Basque seafarers, who traded salt for fish. “The Icelanders weren’t so lucky. Ever tasted unsalted whale fat? Disgusting!”

Lysverket is the name of Haatuft’s Michelin-starred restaurant, located in the heart of Bergen. While fish and seafood dominate the menu, the half-American sometimes serves spekemat—cured meats and sausages—or pinnekjøtt, smoked lamb ribs, at pop-up dinners. “Traditionally, lambs were slaughtered in late summer, rubbed with copious amounts of salt, and hung to dry over winter in huts where fires burned on the floor,” Haatuft says. “Every part of the animal was equally valuable.”

He describes his cooking style as “Neo Fjordic,” distinguishing it from the globally influential New Nordic Cuisine. Instead of fermentation—“even though people like to claim it, I don’t believe it played such a big role in Scandinavian cooking”— Haatuft’s focus is on salt.

From White Gold to Commonplace
Not for nothing is salt called white gold. The Romans tried to extract it from seawater, and inland, people wrested it from mountains. Once a valuable trade commodity, salt has become a cheap staple, especially in processed foods. On one hand, salt is essential for human nutrition—sodium chloride regulates fluid and electrolyte balance, and ensures a functioning metabolism. On the other hand, excessive consumption is linked to high blood pressure, cardiovascular disease, and strokes—which is why the WHO recommends no more than five grams per day.

Despite its mixed reputation, a kitchen without salt is unimaginable. It enhances flavor, creates balance, and rounds out taste—even desserts and baked goods always include a pinch. There are many varieties: iodized, rock, sea, Himalayan, fleur de sel, and the sulfurous kala namak.

Anyone can do sugar
In Norwegian, there’s a saying: Å ta det med en klype salt—literally “to take something with a pinch of salt”—both a nod to irony and a reminder of how vital white gold is to a cuisine that, for a long time, was more about survival than indulgence.

Cynics claim Norway’s national dish is frozen pizza. Either way, the country of 5.5 million isn’t exactly known for its culinary culture, despite the recent rise of New Nordic Cuisine. Compared to Sweden and Denmark, Norway has fewer hours of sunlight, a harsher climate, and more rainfall. Salting, curing, and fermenting have long been—and continue to be—essential techniques for making the most of available resources, not just in everyday cooking, but also in Michelin-starred restaurants like Kontrast in Oslo.

Its head chef, Mikael Svensson, combines local ingredients with Japanese techniques—using salt generously. “Norwegians have a higher tolerance for salt than, say, southern Europeans,” says the 43-year-old. “The magic of salt lies in how it amplifies flavor, cuts through sweetness, and connects ingredients.” With halibut, he serves langoustine garum, a salty fish sauce cultivated by the Romans, alongside marinated kingfish in white soy sauce. “In my kitchen, salt plays a key role—both in preserving food and in making garums and shoyu.”Both are available through his company, b.culture, which sells coffee and mushroom shoyu, as well as pea-based miso.

At another fine-dining restaurant in Oslo—Savage—it’s the drinks that steal the show. Brian Devaux, a charismatic Frenchman in a perfectly tailored suit, relies entirely on salt for his non-alcoholic pairings. “Working with sugar is easy, but it can quickly become cloying. That’s not my approach,” he says. Almost every one of the twenty courses at Savage, located in the basement of a flower shop, has its own house-made liquid pairing. “I have so many ideas, I sometimes have to slow myself down,” Devaux admits while pouring clarified tomato water into a glass with habanero chili. Another recipe combines brown butter and water into a clear liquid, seasoned only with salt—perfect with scallops bathed in brown butter and black garlic.

He soaks salt-poached rhubarb with jalapeños and risotto to create a kind of non-alcoholic sake, and even his syrups are sugar-free, like the kumquat essence infused with roasted butternut squash and buckwheat. Even the sparingly used fruits have savory notes, for example, spontaneously fermented apple juice refined with tarragon and tonka bean. “My philosophy is simple: I love bold flavors and hate sugar.”Then it’s time for Devaux’s personal favorite: the Mushroom Trip. “The forests around my hometown of Saint-Émilion are full of porcini mushrooms. While foraging, I came up with a pairing for cod with caramelized cream.”He dissolved grain koji in water, seasoned it with green pepper and porcini, and let it steep for several days. The finishing touch: Jagangi, a soy sauce made from black garlic. “Especially in summer, I could drink this by the liter.”

The saltier, the better!
Preserved specialties like dried cod (lutefisk), salted herring (spekesild), fermented trout (rakfisk), and stockfish (tørrfisk) from the Lofoten Islands were originally created to extend the storage life of fish. That doesn’t mean these techniques can’t be delicacies—as seen, for example, at Reinhartsen 1931, a traditional business based in Sørlandet’s provincial capital.

The harbor of Kristiansand, with its colorful wooden houses and canal bridges, looks like the ultimate Norwegian cliché. Screeching seagulls eagerly attack what’s served on plastic tables: raw langoustines, marinated scallops, fish burgers, and fish lasagna.

Fishmonger Reidar Fredriksen produces ten to fifteen types of fish and seafood daily—about two tons in total. The shy man with the spotless blue apron is especially proud of his cold-smoked salmon, which has won multiple awards. “In the past, much more salt was used in fish processing. The reduction isn’t accidental: customers demand it for health reasons and the government mandates lower amounts,” explains Fredriksen. Asked about the saltiest product, his wife Siren names dried cod, also known as bacalao. The perfect pairing? Creamy potato salad.

One last question for the punk chef Haatuft: What’s the saltiest dish on his menu? “Definitely the steamed mussels,” Haatuft says. “When they arrive in Lysverket’s kitchen, their shells are tightly closed. During steaming, they open and release the seawater inside into the sauce.”