On our second night out we went to Sjavarkjallarinn, which is Icelandic for Seafood Cellar Restaurant. It's small and subterranean, about 12 tables in the old stone basement of an office building in old town Reykjavik, with dark stone walls, modern furnishings and moody lighting.
This would turn out to be not only the best meal we had in Iceland, it contained the best seafood dish I've ever eaten and that was part of one of the best overall meals I've had anywhere anytime. Every single dish was perfection--and it's rare, when you're someone who cares intensely about food and knows oustanding from merely excellent, that one gets to say that. Each was an intricately woven set of ten or 12 flavors that were both subtle and intense at the same time--nothing over the top, no big overwelming wallops of flavor, just interesting/unusual combinations of ingredients that led up to a complex, symphonic whole. And what's more, each dish was exceptionally artistic in its plating. Some might think the flowers pretentious, but they fit within the context of the whole and among the barren, treeless gray-brown landscape that is Iceland, it's a welcome bit of whimsy. Of all the restaurants we ate at, this one alone was world class. It would succeed anywhere.
The menu was very clever and refreshingly simplistic: rather than run on and on describing the elements as American menus have taken to doing, each dish had a name that included it's main ingredient, and under that just three of the many components were listed. It gave you a feel for the dish without giving away too much or limiting a creative and impulsive kitchen. An amuse bouche of salmon sashimi with roe and a vinaigrette was served first, and also a multigrain bread with a sweet-sour mustard dipping sauce with a bit of an Arabic flavor to it plus a bowl of chopped peanuts and toasted bread crumbs for a second dip of the moistened bread. I could have made a meal on the bread alone.
Btw, a word about cost: every restaurant we ate at was similar in its pricing. Even with the kronur in the tank (we were getting about 120 kr per $100, where when the Lonely Planet Guide was published the going rate was half that, food was expensive--our meals ran nominally $200 each with about $20 each for the appies, main courses at close to $50 and a bottle of wine at $60.
Our last meal in Reykjavik started out at the Tapas Barinn, which came highly recommended for the variety of icelandic foods one can try under one roof. Whale, puffin, seal, Icelandic foal--they had it all. We found the food indifferently prepared and inconsistently seasoned. Salt cod in a tomato sauce with mozzarella was the best of the four dishes we had. Deep fried langoustines were oversalted but would have been delicious nonetheless but for the raw batter under the thin barely-crispy outer layer. A third dish I don't even remember except that it seriously lacked salt, and our fourth dish was the smoked puffin. The meat was shredded and almost as black as the blueberry puree they served with it, a combination that made no particular sense once tasted. Catsup, which at least has acid, would have been a better pairing.
What does puffin does like? Bird. It's definitely poultry, kind of like dark meat turkey crossed with beef jerky. I was afraid it would be a bit fishy given their diet, but it wasn't. Not bad but not great, and I'll admit to mentally having a hard time with the cuteness aspect--I'm a former Alaskan, and these colorful birds are much beloved there. Never considered, or heard of, anyone eating one.
We had planned to order a second set of plates but after these disappointments decided to move on to an attractive restaurant across the way called The Seafood Company. Once again we were served bread, this time with two dipping sauces meant to be enjoyed alternatively. Both were vegetable/fruit purees and I have to say neither of us thought they worked. By comparison the Thousand Island dressing from a few nights earlier seemed brilliant. There we had a langoustine dish that included carrots, a carrot-flavored hollaindaise, more strange vegetable-fruit smears and chunks of rhubarb, as well as a dish consisting of haddock dish with mashed potatoes, roasted potatoes and Icelandic sour milk.
It was clear they thought they were conceiving and combining on the same level as Sjavarkjallarinn, but from start to finish the meal couldn't have missed the mark much further. They were naively proud of their food, like the child who thinks his drawing looks just like the Mona Lisa. The langoustines had no reason to be on the same plate with its partners, and there were careless missteps like the watery liquids (from, I assume, the haddock, which had been steamed) floating around the mashed potatoes in the bottom of my bowl. There were no flavors beyond the flavors, no lingering aftertastes, no harmony. As well, everything was too soft and the couple pieces of roasted potato failed to provide any textural variety. Otherwise, the grilled langoustines were themselves delicious, and the rhubarb chunks--cooked but slightly crispy, tart and sweet--were fantastic. I was told they were poached in sweetened rhubarb juice.
The Icelandic sour milk was interesting though, and what drew us to the dish. It was something particular to them that I read about before going over there, though the context was a reccomendation that you have it with your granola for breakfast. It's actually cooked, and then it thickens somehow--I don't quite get it. But it's tasty and rather like sour cream.
