Tantalizing your taste buds by discovering new cuisines is one of the thrills of traveling to different places. In the case of Iceland, it boils down (no pun intended, naturally) to seafood, lamb and – hot dogs!

Given the harsh, dark, long winters of this geographically isolated island, the early explorers and settlers had to come up with innovative ways to stock up and preserve food during the summer months so that they would have something to eat during the rest of the year. Many of the culinary traditions established by the Vikings continue to this day.

Our first port of call in Reykjavik is a nondescript, green rustic wooden building amidst the fishing trawlers in the harbor — The Sægreifinn, or Sea Baron.  Communal tables, surrounded by old barrel-style packing containers to sit on, fill the room where fishing nets hang lopsidedly from the ceilings. Black and white photos of ships and the former owner cover the pine walls while other memorabilia, donated by various ship captains, are scattered here and there. A second-floor room accommodates large groups of diners.

The specialty here is lobster soup, described by many as “the best in the world.” You order it at the counter at the back of the room, next to the refrigerator where skewers of seafood wait to be selected by the customer before being taken to the back and grilled. The choice is impressive with about 10 varieties at any given time including shrimp, scallops, angler, catfish, Arctic char, cod, skate, halibut, salmon, lemon sole, plaice, blue ling, river trout, and smoked eel.

They also have hákarl, cubes of putrefied shark (served only on Thursdays and the first Sunday of the month). If you happened to watch Anthony Bourdain’s segment on Icelandic cuisine, you will have heard him describe this as “the single worst, most disgusting and terrible tasting thing” he has ever tasted. And… there is Minke whale. But we draw the line at eating marine mammals.

Having paid, we collect our plastic cutlery and take our seats at the table next to a Russian couple and their young son. Within a few minutes, the lobster soup arrives with a basket of steaming hot, crusty French bread and soft Icelandic butter.

The local Icelandic lobster is more of a langoustine than a lobster. It does not have the big claws of the crustaceans found in Maine. Seasoned with a number of spices including nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves, the soup is creamy with tiny bits of celery, tomato and red pepper providing a dash of color to complement the generous chunks of white and pink lobster.

We follow this with a skewer of succulent, grilled shrimp that are sweet and juicy. It is one of the best meals we have while in Iceland.

A few blocks away from the Sea Baron, near the center of the city is The Fiskfelagid or Fish Company. The entire building (formerly a 19th-century store (1884)) was moved to its present location under a small bridge about 30 years ago.

Dark, heavy wood floors and stone walls are offset with backlit window panels behind the bar that come from the former Hafnarfjorthur Free Lutheran Church. Reproductions of Icelandic money and vintage commemorative plates line the walls. On one side, a board of snapshots of patrons; on another, a whiteboard for people to write messages; just inside the entrance a rainbow of post-it notes written by diners.

The cuisine here will take you around the world. Each dish is described in both Icelandic and English so that you know the country of origin as well as the main ingredients.  We opt for the “Around Iceland” tasting menu, a four-course meal that highlights seafood and lamb.

As soon as we are seated a basket of warm bread is delivered to the table with three flavored kinds of butter – butter blended with Skier (similar to Lebanese laben), a mound of smoked applewood infused butter and a spicy red butter. The bread is so good we quickly ask for a second basket.

Next, a gift from the chef appears – a jar with a bent spoon dangling on the outside. Inside, cured fish with a celery root purée, pickled onion, and cucumber, sprinkled with a sweet oat crumble. The combination of fish and oat is novel but tasty.

Caramelized carrots, fresh cumin cheese, sorrel purée, pickled pearl onions, and hollandaise sauce accompany the pan-fried plaice, served as a first course. The flavor of the delicate fish is offset perfectly by the sorrel and pickled onions.

Slowly cooked fillet of cod and Icelandic scallops, accompanied by herb paste, dried and cured eggs and spicy bread follow.

The third course is the highlight of the meal– the most succulent, flavorful lamb we have ever tasted, with gravy and a side of fried cauliflower purée. The meat simply melts in your mouth.

By now we are regretting that second basket of bread as the chef approaches our table with bowls of yogurt mousse and rhubarb jam over caramelized oats and brown cheese. He proceeds to sprinkle “Snow”, aka a liquid nitrogen-based sauce over our plates. If the intention is to simulate the cold, frosty, Icelandic winters, it is a success, as was the entire meal.

You would expect that seafood or lamb would be Iceland’s national dish. They are not. That (unofficial) privilege rests with – the hot dog. However, this is a hot dog unlike any other you have tasted. You eat the mixture of Icelandic lamb, beef and pork with sweet brown mustard (known as pylsusinnep), fresh raw white onions, crispy fried onion and a remoulade sauce (a mixture of mayo, mustard, herbs, and capers). You have to specify what you want on it when you order.

The hot dog is sold everywhere – stop to fill up the tank, have a hot dog; visit a new town, have a hot dog; walk down the street, have a hot dog. Some say the best hot dog in Reykjavik is found at the Bæjarins Bestu Pylsur (it means “the best hotdog in town”). We eat our favorite at the end of a long day of hiking around waterfalls, at the gas station where we stop to fill up. It comes served in a piece of wax paper in a cardboard box. Better get two while you are at it.

Sægreifinn The Sea Baron); Geirsgata 8, Reykjavik;Tel. 354-553-1500)

The Fish Company Vesturgata 2a, Grófartorg, Reykjavik (Tel. 354-522-5300; Open for lunch Monday-Saturday 1130-1430; Open for dinner every day from 1730.

Bæjarins Bestu Tryggvagata 10, 1Hafnarstraeti, Reykjavík;(Tel. 354-511-1566; Open Sunday to Thursday 1000-1900; Friday to Saturday 1000-0430;

 

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