Reykjavík Grapevine - 14.07.2006, Qupperneq 19

Nýhil Poetry Bookstore
by bart cameron
When you come to a nation that prides itself on main-
taining almost 100% literacy for centuries, you expect
poetry to hold a revered place. Strangely enough, in the
last few decades it hasn’t. You can’t particularly blame
Iceland for allowing poetry to fade, it is an interna-
tional phenomenon.
Besides, as poetry stopped dominating discussion
and serving as a source of national(ist) pride, thanks
to writers like Einar Már Guðmundsson, it took to
the streets and it took up a new set of inf luences. Bad
as it is that Reykjavík had no place to properly exhalt
poetry’s hauty qualities, at least this was one of the few
towns where one could get harassed at a bar at 4 am to
buy a book of poetry.
Somehow, out of this street, everyman movement,
a group of poets, musicians, and writers with the aura
of rock stars got together a few years ago to bring
poetry back into the middle-to-higher establishments.
Calling themselves the Nýhil group, they do things
like hold international readings, travel the country,
publish properly laid out and designed books, and their
work is catching on. (In fact, in this issue, the Grape-
vine presents a translation of the rock star of poetry.)
Now, the Nýhil group has found a home for their
work, taking over a sitting room in the Smekkleysa
(Bad Taste) Record Shop and turning it into the poet’s
sweetest dream. Perhaps surprising for people who
have followed the group’s more gritty tendencies, the
poetry shop is basically high end, featuring tome after
tome, set into bookshelves and, in one of the salesper-
son’s own words, “The most expensive display case in
the city.”
All as it should be. The Nýhil Poetry Bookstore,
like the Culture House not too far away, is a place to
worship the notion of the book, an activity not that
much less fulfilling for not being able to understand
what’s written in them.
We’re just waiting for the group to start hosting
some more proper readings like those that earned them
their fame. According to their representatives, their
next large Reykjavík event will be this October, during
their second annual international poetry festival.
Gunnar Hrafn Jónsson and Bart Cameron on Reykjavík Dining Photos by Skari
Under ISK 1000
Between ISK 1000
and ISK 2500
Between ISK 2500
and ISK 4000$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ Over ISK 4000
DINING, EATING
GRUBBING&
Lækjargata 2
Tel.: 552-9499
$ $
Café Ópera
$
Geirsgata 3
Tel.: 517-3366
$
sushi smiðjan
The town of Reykjavík has been waiting for
this for years, so there has been a certain
amount of giddiness sweeping over review-
ers having found a sushi shop where rolls
and sashimi are, believe it or not, affordable.
How affordable? A modest sushi box costs
about 600 ISK, a large box with ten good-
sized pieces, about 1,600 ISK - almost half
the price of the other sushi in town. Sushi
Smiðjan is not only cheap for sushi, it is one
of the cheapest restaurants in town. To give
some context, a burger and fries at the neigh-
bouring Hamborgarabúllan is 980 ISK.
Adding to the joy over the cost, is the
fact that the place looks good, it has a great
website (www.sushismidjan.is), and the serv-
ice is quick, a rarity in Iceland. Of course,
the location, while close to a couple of other
respectable establishments, is just outside the
standard thoroughfares for tourists and even
downtown employees. Then there’s the fact
that this isn’t really a restaurant per se. It’s
got four stools, and you’re not too likely to
see the chef preparing anything. A massive
catering operation, most of the work takes
place in back or outside of when they’re serv-
ing stop-ins.
If you don’t see someone making the
sushi, then you’re typically going to taste the
difference - sushi starts to suffer immediately
upon exposure to air. And here we come to
the only reason Sushi Smiðjan hasn’t had a
street named in its honour: It really doesn’t
have very good sushi. While the servings are
honest, and the fish won’t make you sick, it
isn’t particularly tasty. Actually, you can’t
really taste the f lavour of the fish. On some
of the rolls, a preponderance of sesame seeds
overpower the roll, on others, the fish seems
a little old.
In other words, good news, bad news:
good news, you can now afford sushi in
Iceland, bad news, you get what you pay for.
Still, for what they’re charging, they could
cut up their shoes and call it sushi, and I’d
still probably stop in now and then. BC
Geirsgata 9
Tel.: 511-3474
$ $
tveir fiskar
The Grapevine’s food critic was recently
challenged, by a clown no less, to find dolphin
on the menu of an Icelandic restaurant. His
reasoning was that while the locals are non-
chalant about eating whale, they might think
twice about scarfing down the cuter and sillier
sea mammals that most people associate with
theme parks and children’s TV. In fact, they
are often nicknamed “clowns of the sea.” Not
wanting to shrink from the challenge, The
Grapevine’s intrepid staff made some phone
calls and arranged to take the jester out for
raw dolphin at Tveir Fiskar.
As it turns out, raw dolphin carpaccio is
really quite good. It was prepared just like
the more traditional beef variety, and the
combination of f lavours was exciting but not
as ‘different’ as one might expect. The other
starter, a bouillabaisse seafood soup, was good
but a bit on the greasy side. This is a definite
trend in Icelandic seafood cuisine of late, but
excessive oil can sometimes make a soup too
demanding to properly serve as a starter.
Our main courses were salted fish
(bacalao) in almond and parmigiano crust
with tomato vinaigrette, and lobster in garlic,
respectively. The fish was quite different from
what Icelanders think of when you say salted
fish – and that is a very good thing indeed.
The dish had a pronounced Mediterranean
feel. The lobster, or langoustine for the pur-
ists, was served ‘the old way’, according to the
menu. That consists of garlic butter, various
unnamed spices, and bread. Considering the
ingredients and the class of the restaurant, the
result was unsurprisingly delicious.
The skyr tiramisu didn’t seem to contain
a lot of skyr, but was still a damn fine dessert.
The chocolate souff lé with mango sorbet was
equally impressive. The only problem with the
restaurant is the way the main dining area is
set up. When you first arrive you are seated in
an extremely comfortable environment with
comfortable couches, a well-stocked bar and
even artificial northern lights shining above.
You can in fact choose to remain there until
your dinner arrives, but once you move into
the dining area the contrast becomes appar-
ent. That minor gripe aside, Tveir Fiskar is a
great place to get expertly prepared, fresh fish.
GHJ
When reviewing a restaurant for the first
time it’s hard to know what to expect. In the
case of Café Ópera, which has been a fixture
of the downtown dining circuit for years, it
felt odd to have never ventured inside before.
Located on Lækjargata, it’s a place absolutely
everyone and their grandma has walked past
at some point. The interior turned out to be a
pleasant surprise.
From the kitsch posters and paintings
to the piano hanging on the wall, the decor
at Café Ópera has a bohemian, early 20th
century feel to it. The staff was friendly
and numerous, perhaps owing to our early
arrival, and more than eager to please. The
chef wanted to personally discuss upcoming
changes to the menu, and we were given the
opportunity to taste a variety of dishes that
he handpicked – both from off and on the
current menu. As a result of the bewildering
and seemingly never-ending array of foods
that was brought before us, recalling specifics
is difficult.
There was a great lobster soup: creamy,
made with cognac and thankfully not greasy
at all. There was shellfish, presented to us
looking like a fine artwork – a skill that
would be much in evidence for the rest of the
evening. There was carpaccio and sorbet,
lobster and giant prawn. Basically, there was
a lot of really good food, the remains of which
we had to tearfully send back in order to be
able to partake in the next treat.
Café Ópera is famous for its hot rock
steaks, and close to the end of the evening we
got to experience that rather unusual culinary
phenomenon. Basically, someone sticks a
rock into the depths of hell itself until it’s hot
enough to burn through asbestos. Then the
rock is put on a heat-resistant tray, raw meat
and a potato are put on top, and a mad dash
to the customer’s table begins. You actually
cook the meat as you eat it, and while that
may sound intimidating the experience was
as fun as it is delicious. At the very least, it’s
something different to try.
To top it all off, we had a warm chocolate
cake with ice cream for dessert. It was a beau-
tifully presented, fudgy kind of brownie, and
not being able to finish it was a real shame.
GHJ
$
we recommend3