Truth be told, I don’t really remember what else we ate that night as many a Martini and much wine was had, but I do remember leaving Grillmarkaeurinn more than sated, happy that I had tasted two new dishes, and wishing I’d had another few nights in town.
I was so thrilled that when it came to eating well in Iceland my original concerns were completely unfounded, and also embarrassed that they were unfairly prejudiced by my ignorance. I thought I would be subjected to skyr and fermented shark at every meal, when in fact my Icelandic culinary experience was very much the opposite; it was a revelation.
I? Ninety-nine percent of Iceland’s energy is from renewable sources. Up until about twenty years ago most vegetables were imported, but now at least half are grown on the island, mostly in geothermal greenhouses.
11
Robert Altman was an extraordinary film director and producer who made a number of brilliant and influential films throughout his fifty-year career, M*A*S*H, Nashville, and Gosford Park being just a few. Bob had produced an Alan Rudolph film that Campbell Scott was working on along with a few other friends of mine in Montreal. Campbell and I had teamed up to co-direct Big Night and would meet periodically to discuss in what style we might shoot the film if ever we got the money to actually make it. While he was filming Alan’s movie, Campbell suggested I visit the set, as he thought that I would like the way it was being shot. Kate and I visited for a weekend, saw some friends, and observed the process. Alan asked me to return in a couple of weeks to play a small role, which I was more than happy to do. After this Campbell and I approached Altman to see if he would produce our film and help shepherd it through the complex process of raising the money. We thought that having someone of his stature and talent would help two first-time directors get a foot into the tightly closed doors of Hollywood. After reading the script and meeting with us, he agreed to lend a hand to that foot.I
Although he was quite busy, Bob was very generous with his time, and when I told him I’d like to shadow him on set, he was more than welcoming. Soon afterward, I arrived in Paris for a week to observe Bob direct Prêt-a-Porter. The cast of the film was a who’s who of mainstream, independent, and foreign film actors, a few of whom were my friends. It was quite thrilling for me to watch Bob work in his usual relaxed but very singular way and get to meet some of my favorite actors, like Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni.
One afternoon when those two icons were filming a scene, they wanted to impart something to Altman, but because of the language barrier it was proving impossible. Since I spoke some Italian, I became a translator of sorts, and by hook or by crook, the issue was solved. After filming that day, Mastroianni approached me and asked if I would like to join him and the producer Jon Kilik for dinner. Marcello Mastroianni was and remains one of my all-time acting heroes. Besides the fact that he was painfully handsome and debonair, his performances ranged from the powerfully moving to the delicately comic. I must admit even the birth of my children has not given me the joy I felt from that invitation. All right, the kids’ entry into the world comes first, but by a nose. Literally. Anyway, when Mr. Mastroianni wrote down the name of the restaurant with a shaky cigarette-stained hand on a torn slip of paper and gave it to me, I think I bowed like a geisha in thanks.
* * *
At eight p.m., after having a drink or two to steady my nerves, a little Dutch courage as it were, I meet Jon and Marcello at an Italian restaurant called Romano’s. It is a small, homey place run by an Italian whose name I believe is actually Romano. Marcello explains that this is one of his regular haunts and that the food is wonderful. Romano comes to the table and offers us a drink. Marcello orders a scotch on the rocks, “to open up the stomach,” he explains in his broken English. This is a very Italian tradition and belief and where the term aperitivo comes from: “aprire,” “to open,” “tivo,” a colloquial shortening of “appetito”; hence, “to open the appetite.” Jon and I of course order the same thing. We chat for a bit, which is slow going as Jon speaks no Italian, Marcello speaks only broken English, and I am so nervous I am butchering both languages. Soon Romano returns and asks what we would like to eat, for as far as I remember we were never given a menu. He and Marcello confer quasi-conspiratorially but loud enough for us to hear.
Their exchange goes something like this:
ROMANO: Allora, che mangiamo sta sera?
MARCELLO: Non so. Forse… Posso avere un po di pasta fagioli?
ROMANO: Ma, certo.
Marcello looks to us, wondering if we would like the same. Jon understands “pasta fagioli” so there is no need to translate. We both nod in hearty agreement.