Our first stop seemed to be purely a vehicle to advertise Iceland's vast superiority to the rest of Europe when it comes to energy generation; no fossil fuels or nuclear power used on this island, and in fact much of the country's power is appropriately produced by geothermal energy. This is certainly the case for Friðheimar, a predominantly tomato-based farming operation housed in greenhouses that suck up as much as electricity per day as 3000 average Icelanders. Run by an almost offensively Nordic-looking family of gorgeous aryans, a cafe is housed in one of these cosy glass longhouses that serves deliciously fresh tomato soup with poppyseed and sugar and cinnamon breads. I gave in to my more luxurious instincts and bought myself a mug and a roll because you definitely wouldn't get this stuff out of tin (although maybe you would in Iceland), and it was so filling that I have actually yet to eat since.
Giant bumble bees bustle around the green houses pollinating everything, and workers plugged into their iPods and balancing on ladders line each row, poking and prodding the still-green tomatoes. Every plant has to be replaced every 9 months - what a faff, especially since the greenhouse we got to peek around is only one of many. Lucky for Icelanders, courtesy of the geothermal energy at their fingertips the natives have little need of importing anything. It's Europe's largest producer of bananas (what an accolade) and has even tried its hand at coffee and oranges - although "just for fun" according to our tour guide. Just for fun.