The Art of Giving

A guest once said that Trasti & Trine was not a place, but a feeling. Perhaps that is exactly where my philosophy begins. In the love of the craft, the urge to create, and the joy of giving. In respect for the ingredients, the people, and the time we share. Because when we invite someone into our home, we also take responsibility for their time under our roof. We want to surprise, awaken curiosity, and create moments that linger. With Finnmark as our starting point, a life’s worth of experience in our hands, and the freedom to do things our own way.

I believe the urge to create has always been part of me. As a boy in Sandnes outside Kirkenes, I made games, drew figures, and invented toys that others could join in. We didn’t have unlimited resources, but we had nature, imagination, and each other. I especially remember some chewing-gum figurines from Asterix and Obelix that became the beginning of our own little football world. With figures, beads, and homemade teams, we organized matches, and eventually we made a newspaper where we presented bought and sold players. It was not just about inventing something. It was about the joy of creating something others could become part of.

In many ways, I still do the same thing. The difference is that imagination now has different tools, and the people I invite into my little worlds now sit around our tables.

Through life, I have been fortunate to meet people who have shaped both me and my craft. I have a special love for the old French kitchen traditions and chefs such as Alain Chapel in Mionnay and Louis Outhier in La Napoule. With them, I found an understanding of the profession that was about far more than techniques, recipes, and perfection. It was about attitude, discipline, and the love of giving.

Alain Chapel’s philosophy that our profession consists in loving to give, without calculating what it costs in time, has always struck something fundamental in me.

For me, method, order, and organization are almost sacred principles. Not because everything should be strict and controlled, but because knowledge and thorough preparation give us the freedom to be creative. To improvise, challenge, and surprise. Behind what seems like a simple dish often lies an entire life of experience, and it is the sum of those experiences that shapes a kitchen.

Finnmark has given me my own expression. A landscape of contrasts, where stone, wood, iron, and fire meet wind, cold, forest, and open tundra. I like the rough, the honest, and the unprocessed. Ingredients that are allowed to tell where they come from, without being hidden behind unnecessary secrets.

I am constantly thinking about whether the food is complete. Whether the flavors work together, whether the balance between salty, sour, and sweet is right, and whether the dish gives something beyond what one expects. The greatest satisfaction comes when we succeed in creating something surprising. When a familiar ingredient gets a new expression, yet remains recognizable. When curiosity is awakened and the food becomes an experience in itself.

At the same time, I have never understood why fine dining has to be so serious. Why should people feel they have to know which fork to use first and which glass to drink from in order to eat good food? Why should a restaurant with high ambitions also have to be solemn?

I like the idea of people laughing around a table. I have been to Copenhagen and eaten with a Sami knife, and I was surprised myself. The fact that an unexpected utensil, a story, or a small surprise can break expectations and create a moment of joy.

When we started Trasti & Trine, I once spent NOK 30,000 on sporks, a combination of spoon and fork, without Trine knowing about it. I had come up with an idea for how these could be used to surprise our guests. It may not have been the most necessary investment, but it says something about what drives me. I like doing things my own way, and I truly believe that the small, unexpected experiences are often the ones we remember best.

At our place, it may even happen that Barolo suddenly drops by the restaurant. That is perhaps not what one expects from a fine dining restaurant. But it is part of who we are.

We do not want to make the food less ambitious. We want to make the experience more human.

Time is one of our most important resources. Not only in the kitchen, where time develops flavors and refines ingredients, but also in the meeting between people. We do not want to follow a script for how an evening should unfold. Some guests want to immerse themselves in the food, the wines, and the stories. Others simply want to be together, talk, and create their own sense of we.

Good hospitality is about understanding the difference. About giving attention when it is needed, and space when it is wanted. About the right things at the right time, enough time, and sometimes a little more time than expected.

Care does not exist in a formula, but must come from the people who practice it. And perhaps this is where we find the core of Trasti & Trine.

For WE is not first and foremost the buildings, the restaurant, the cabins, or the dog yard. WE are the people who fill them with life. The chefs, the servers, the apprentices, the guides, and everyone else who contributes every day with their experience, their knowledge, and their personality.

I myself have learned from many people throughout my life, and I feel a responsibility to carry the craft forward. For me, it is about sharing knowledge, giving others the opportunity to grow, and never stopping being curious myself. A living kitchen must always be in motion, just like the people who work there.

When I look back, there may not be such a big difference between the boy in Sandnes who organized football matches with chewing-gum figurines, and what we are trying to create at Trasti & Trine today.

It is still about imagination, the urge to create, and the desire to invite others in.

Only now I have a kitchen, a whole team of people, and Finnmark’s fantastic ingredients at my disposal.

And perhaps that is exactly the art of giving. To use what we can, what we have, and the time we share, to create something that matters to others.

Because when all is said and done, it is not necessarily the taste of a particular dish you remember best.

It is how we made you feel.

Welcome home to Trasti & Trine.

Johnny Trasti