Reykjavík Grapevine - 11.06.2004, Blaðsíða 24

Hard Rock Cafe
Kringlan Mall
Originally I had intended on skip-
ping the larger chains like Hard
Rock. However, during my thor-
ough and highly scientific poll of
hamburger scholars, the place came
highly rated over and over. I went
and asked the waitress what her
favorite burger was. She brought a
magificent 200 gram slab of beef
patty, smothered (but not too smoth-
ered) in hickory smoked BBQ sauce,
dressed in melted cheese, red onion,
lettuce and tomato. Always listen to
your waitress.
Hamborgarabúllan
Tryggvagata 4-6
Hamborgarbúllan is an interest-
ing place; it´s shape can best be
described as...weird. Inside, the walls
are covered with hipster Americana;
a promotional poster for the first
Blues Brothers movie, a portrait of
Johnny Cash looking all speed-sick
and beautifully ugly and a picture of
the cast of the Sopranos blocked to
put you in mind of DaVinci´s Last
Supper, though without the mighty
J.C. But out the windows, you can
watch as the boat Hrefna Rós gets a
new coat of paint before launching
back into the bay.
The burgers are excellent. I had a
simple single patty with lettuce,
tomato, mayonnaise and ketchup
with melted ´yellow cheese´. I was
so happy to discover my beloved
American cheese on the burger, I
was nearly moved to tears. I highly
recommend this place. Great burgers
in an interesting spot, cooked right
in front of you. Grillhúsið
Tryggvagata 20
At Grillhúsið I again relied on the
opinion of one of the servers. And
again it paid off. I was presented
with a juicy burger, cooked perfectly
medium rare (exactly as I asked and
it´s easier said than done) topped
with melted cheese, bacon and a
´special sauce´. The burger was so
good, when I got home I actually
wrote: A beautiful example of ham-
burger artistry.
Kaffi Brennslan
Pósthússtræti 9
Here I was honored with a Dijon-
glazed grilled burger, piled high with
lettuce, tomato, red onion, cheese,
and an excellent mustard mayonnaise
sauce. This was a true gourmet bit
of work, not too be missed. Kaffi
Brennslan will soon be changing
their already excellent menu, but I
was assured they would retain the old
favorites like this burger.
Vítabar
Bergþórugata 21
I left Vitabar for last because it´s the
closest to my heart. It´s also the clos-
est to my house. I ordered the burger
that has made them famous through-
out the city. A full 200 grams of
burger with all the fixings, covered
in a blue cheese and onion dressing,
all this going on between the best
hamburger bread I have encountered
on either side of the Atlantic. I can
only describe it as fucking rocking. I
highly recommend you take a walk
to this place on a Sunday afternoon
and order this meal accompanied by
two or three pints. If this doesn´t
cure your hangover, I recommend a
pistol and some time alone.
THE 2ND WORST THING YOU CAN SAY TO A GUY
ON A 2ND DATE
by Beerman
She tasted like whiskey, and I hadn’t tasted whiskey in a long
time. It’s not that I don’t like the taste, you see. It’s the morning
after. And when you have your first sip and you’re already smelling
the morning after, it’s time to find new ways to erase your mind.
Paddy´s Top Five Burger Joints
by Padraig Mara
Hamburgers are by now a staple of the local diet, and it shows.
But which ones are the best? We asked an expert from the United
States, Dr. Padraig Mara, to do some research, to which he replied:
“Fuck it, I´ll just ask some folks and go eat some burgers.”
This wasn’t just my imagination
running wild. She really did taste
like whiskey. It was her New Year’s
resolution. To acquire the taste. And
she was doing just fine. She started
out on bourbon, but I knew she
would soon graduate to scotch. She
was my kinda gal.
To be frank with you, most girls are
my kinda gals. But I’m not most gals
kinda guy. I don’t dance. I don’t buy
drinks. I’m not into risk investment.
Buy a girl a drink, the chances of
getting her to sleep with you are still
pretty slim. Drink enough of them
yourself, and you can be sure of get-
ting drunk. That’s the one thing you
can always count on with alcohol.
And me, I go for the sound invest-
ment.
But this one bought her own drinks.
As I told you, she was my kinda gal.
All I had to do was have a beer and
wait for her to do all the work, and
then I’d reap the reward. She was
already halfway there when we met.
By the time she finished her drink,
she was moving over my way. Maybe
it was the whiskey. I didn’t mind.
And I didn’t mind the taste when
she put her tongue in my mouth.
But I’ve already told you that. Where
were we...ah? Just so you don’t get
the wrong idea. I am not without
morals. I do think it wrong to sleep
with women more drunk than you
are. So usually I try to catch up. But
I was running out of time.
It wasn’t the first time we met. We’d
met before, under similar circum-
stances. Done the deed. We were
equals then. Alcohol is the great
equalizer. The beautiful and the
hideous, the old and the young, the
ignorant and the wise, at the end of
the night, no one can hold a conver-
sation any better than they can hold
their drink.
Which was why I liked bars. That
great socialist Jesus must have been
drunk when he said the last shall be
first, the first shall be last. Its guys
like me that always fall down last.
This is where we get our revenge.
But I digress. So far, everything was
going according to plan. The plan’s
always the same, but women rarely
play according to rules, much less
plans. Even if most plans include
them.
And I had plans for Miss Bourbon.
And Miss Bourbon was playing
along. The fiddler plays the tune and
she was tapping her foot in time.
It wasn’t as if I was doing anything
wrong, I mean, she had already
acquiesced once. Do you ever make
the same mistake twice? Or is that
just being careless?
I had another hit of equalizer and
she lent over toward me. She whis-
pered in my ear, softly. But what she
said wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
The very worst thing a woman can
say to a man on a second date is:
“I’m going to have your baby.” A
child is 18 to life. There’s no “I’m
sorry babe, it won’t happen again.”
Once the words are spoken, it’s too
late for regrets, too late for see-
you-laters. All you can do is harden
yourself to a decade of hangovers in
movie theatres watching afternoon
cartoons with a kid that’ll grow up to
be just like you.
But that wasn’t what she said. What
she said was the second worst thing
a woman can say on a second date.
“I think I have Chlamydia,” she said.
That was a downer on the general
mood of where the night was going.
I no longer felt like holding tight
and drowning in her sinking eyes.
I made my excuses the way you do,
but it wasn’t even morning yet. I
had other plans for the morning. I
had waiting rooms and doctors and
piles of outdated magazines with
pictures of people you’d like to sleep
with, if only you weren’t going to see
the doctor. That’s what I had in the
morning. That, and a hangover. So
much for the cartoons.
illustration by Þorsteinn Davíðsson
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