In the Norse way, one does not eat in three courses but around two great moments: the *dögurðr* (morning meal, after work) and the *náttmál* (evening meal, at nightfall). Everything revolves around the central hearth: you slice roasted meat straight from the spit, you ladle barley porridge from a common cauldron, you pass the drinking horn from hand to hand. Among the giants of Jötunheimr, there is neither starter nor dessert: there is raw abundance, set all together on the wooden table, and you take what hunger demands.

Two signatures tied together: the honey of the wild forest hives (which sweetens the porridges, becomes mead, binds the völva's remedies) and cooking over an open fire on the great stone hearths, which perfumes everything with resinous smoke. No distant spices here: power comes from fire, honey, and Northern berries.