Apparently the hotdog is one of Iceland’s national foods. How this came to be I’m not entirely sure, but last weekend’s visit to Reykjavik had me consuming 2 within a 24 hour period. Honestly, this was more than my total hotdog consumption in the past 12 months.
Furthermore, I’m not sure why I insist on travelling to the most expensive cities in Europe ($9-$10 beer as a benchmark) but I can only imagine that the lowly hotdog has been raised to its glorious national iconic status because at 230-250 króna (£1.60) it’s the most affordable meal out. And, calling a spade a spade here…they’re pretty tasty too.
The main difference with the Icelandic hotdog is that the casing seemed to be just a teensy bit thicker than normal. So while normally I’d just bite and eat away, it took some extra oomph on the molars to break through to the mystery meat within. A nice addition to the standard optional accoutrements was the option of fresh and/or fried onions. Feeling quite strongly that eating raw onions is worse than being stuck in an elevator with Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” being played on repeat, I opted for the fried onions. Like the hotdog, they were not of home-made ilk. Instead, they were the miniature ones that come in a tin can. I suppose one must give Iceland credit for being consistent in the hot dog’s artificialness. Regardless, the fried onions, adhering to the hotdog via a glue stick of ketchup were delicious. Would I make a habit of hunting these Icelandic dogs down now that I’m back in London? Let’s say that they were on sale at the airport…but Dana decided to pass.
The other gastronomic adventures of note were Viking beer and the 3-course lobster tasting menu at Laekjarbrekka.
Like the Virgin Mary who was discovered on a piece of French toast (and then quickly sold on ebay for $28,000), my first pint of Viking beer had a eerily scary picture in the foam on top. Depending on the angle, it was a map of Iceland. I thought perhaps this was because Viking beer is made with “pure Icelandic water” (the poopy sulphur smell having been removed) but looking around the table no one else seemed to having anything even remotely similar. The beer is a golden pilsner, and while I typically prefer my brewskies a bit darker, it was the perfect pint.
The restaurant Laekjarbrekka is situated in one of the oldest buildings in Reykjavik. With a laminated, free-standing sign outside their front door to woo in passing tourists, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. That said, what welcomed us inside was the quaintest little dining room, complete with an elderly Icelandic piano player who kept us entertained with a wide variety of show tunes.
The lobster in Iceland is quite different from traditional New England lobster. They're much smaller (think langoustines) due to the colder waters. There was a moment of panic when I was signing up for the lobstermenu as I don’t generally trust little lobsters. However, everything worked really well becaused they highlighted the tender meat of the lobster tail and for the most part didn’t serve it in its shell.
Furthermore, I’m not sure why I insist on travelling to the most expensive cities in Europe ($9-$10 beer as a benchmark) but I can only imagine that the lowly hotdog has been raised to its glorious national iconic status because at 230-250 króna (£1.60) it’s the most affordable meal out. And, calling a spade a spade here…they’re pretty tasty too.
The main difference with the Icelandic hotdog is that the casing seemed to be just a teensy bit thicker than normal. So while normally I’d just bite and eat away, it took some extra oomph on the molars to break through to the mystery meat within. A nice addition to the standard optional accoutrements was the option of fresh and/or fried onions. Feeling quite strongly that eating raw onions is worse than being stuck in an elevator with Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” being played on repeat, I opted for the fried onions. Like the hotdog, they were not of home-made ilk. Instead, they were the miniature ones that come in a tin can. I suppose one must give Iceland credit for being consistent in the hot dog’s artificialness. Regardless, the fried onions, adhering to the hotdog via a glue stick of ketchup were delicious. Would I make a habit of hunting these Icelandic dogs down now that I’m back in London? Let’s say that they were on sale at the airport…but Dana decided to pass.
The other gastronomic adventures of note were Viking beer and the 3-course lobster tasting menu at Laekjarbrekka.
Like the Virgin Mary who was discovered on a piece of French toast (and then quickly sold on ebay for $28,000), my first pint of Viking beer had a eerily scary picture in the foam on top. Depending on the angle, it was a map of Iceland. I thought perhaps this was because Viking beer is made with “pure Icelandic water” (the poopy sulphur smell having been removed) but looking around the table no one else seemed to having anything even remotely similar. The beer is a golden pilsner, and while I typically prefer my brewskies a bit darker, it was the perfect pint.
The restaurant Laekjarbrekka is situated in one of the oldest buildings in Reykjavik. With a laminated, free-standing sign outside their front door to woo in passing tourists, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. That said, what welcomed us inside was the quaintest little dining room, complete with an elderly Icelandic piano player who kept us entertained with a wide variety of show tunes.
The lobster in Iceland is quite different from traditional New England lobster. They're much smaller (think langoustines) due to the colder waters. There was a moment of panic when I was signing up for the lobstermenu as I don’t generally trust little lobsters. However, everything worked really well becaused they highlighted the tender meat of the lobster tail and for the most part didn’t serve it in its shell.
On the menu:
Lobster soup with crème and cognac – The others loved this soup. For me it was the biggest disappointment of the meal, but this is partly due to the fact that I tend to avoid crème based soups like oncoming traffic in a game of Frogger.
Grilled lobster tails in garlic-butter, tempura fried lobster, and lobster Wellington with cap and portabella mushrooms – I found all three of these dishes outstanding. A few of the others felt the tempura lobster was reminiscent of what one might get at a fish and chip shop. I’d agree in the context of the fried battering, but disagreed because the lobster meat was outstanding. If I could get it at my local fish and chip shop on a regular basis I’d be a much fuller-figured lady.
Desert was simple and straightforward, served inside a toffee almond “basket” was fresh fruit salad and an assortment of ice creams and sorbets. Because I’m a sucker for homemade ice creams (the mass produced Ben & Jerry’s stuff not being my thing), the desert had me classily licking my plate. Literally. Licking my plate. Ok, with my fingers if I'm honest, but is this really any better? The only thing better would have had to be seeing the Northern Lights, completely randomly while being locked out of our apartment our first night. Smooth operators, ladies. ;-)
1 comment:
Were the hot dogs as good as what they had at the Hungry Bear in Weirs Beach, NH?
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