Reykjavík Grapevine - 19.05.2006, Síða 19

Home Grown Record Shop
by sindri eldon photo by gúndi
One of the score of narrow one-way streets crisscrossing
the mighty Laugavegur is Vitastígur, and provided you’re
looking for it, it would be rather hard to miss the large,
somewhat garish and seemingly hand-painted sign indicat-
ing Geisladiskabúð Valda, or Valdi’s CDs, on the left-hand
side of the street walking up from Laugavegur.
Upon closer inspection, the store is also decorated by
the merchandise lining the windows. Cheap banners for
rock bands of varying quality, rare finds (or as rare as you
can find in Iceland, anyway) and VHS tape containers
have been haphazardly arrayed, stuck or simply propped
up against the windows, and are actually a pretty good
indicator of what you’ll find inside: the most unpredictable,
cramped, badly-aired and altogether best record store in
Iceland.
In here you can find old favourites, lovingly worn and
scratched by their original owners, stacked next to shiny
and fashionable recent releases, onto which Valdi himself
has stuck a reassuring green label emblazoned with the
word ‘nýtt’ (new), justifying its slightly higher price.
Which, incidentally, is still not very high by Icelandic
standards. The new releases are usually priced between
1500 and 2000 ISK, with the older ones varying from any-
where to half as much to the same, depending on popularity
and relative value. Considering that there is a better-than-
average chance Valdi’s will actually have what you’re look-
ing for as opposed to trusting your luck (the flea market)
or settling for what some slimy record executive wants you
to listen to (special offers at a corporate chain outlet), these
prices are inarguably the best in Iceland today.
And because the phrase “record store” gets tossed
around far too liberally these days, let me pause to assure
you that Valdi’s does indeed carry records, stashed away in
the back across from a rack of VHS tapes that seems con-
stantly on the verge of collapse. He has several extra-special
ones draped on the limited wall space in the store, attain-
able for a far higher price than anything else in there. He
also carries DVDs, the aforementioned banners and vast
stacks of computer games of every kind imaginable, from
ancient Nintendo cartridges to the latest in mind-boggling
graphic imagery.
As with most used stores, your choices are admittedly
limited to what someone else disliked enough to sell at
about a fifth of what they bought it for (Valdi keeps his
prices down by driving a miser’s bargain when it comes
to purchases), but bear in mind that tastes do differ from
man to man, and the fact that after the close of Japis and
Hljómalind, Valdi is one of a select few still flying a black
flag as far as Icelandic record stores go. The only alterna-
tive nowadays is faceless corporate entity Skífan or picky
high-brow music snobs like Bad Taste and 12 Tónar, who
are more likely to snort indignantly than offer any real help
when asked if they carry anything that hasn’t made the
cover of Wire yet.
Valdi himself is of the home grown variety, an affable
glasses-wearing music geek seemingly glued in place
behind the counter and wearing a red soccer shirt that is
in turn glued to him. He’s the only employee I’ve seen in
the store and is extremely accommodating to those with
questions, smiling just as wide when asked for Spice Girls
albums as when asked for Einstürzende Neubauten or GG
Allin.
And if you’ve come to Iceland fishing for Icelandic
music made when Icelandic people still knew how to make
music instead of drab exercises in sonic narcissism, Valdi is
more than likely to carry it.
Gunnar Hrafn Jónsson 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&
Hverfisgata 56
Tel.: 552-1630
$ $
austur-indía
Félagið
$
Vesturgata 3b
Tel.: 551-2344
$
taPasbarinn
$
Tapas, the Spanish delicacy which most
people associate with the Mediterranean,
seems to be catching on in the decidedly
more frigid climate of Iceland. Several wine
bars and coffee houses have begun offering
limited tapas menus, but the varied nature of
the dish means that, ideally, it takes a dedi-
cated restaurant to do the experience justice
and leave you coming away with a feeling
of having had a full meal rather than just a
series of snacks.
It was with the anticipation of getting
some authentic tapas, then, that we arrived
at the aptly named Tapas Bar(inn). One look
at the menu and we were satisfied that this
was a place that knew its tapas – a staggering
55 different assortments were on offer, and
that’s not counting any of the other menu
items. I ordered a selection of lobster tails
prepared in four different ways: deep fried,
pan fried, grilled and garlic sautéed. My din-
ing partner for the evening dove head first
into the world of tapas, ordering the chef ’s
selection of the eight most popular tapas
dishes.
They say you can’t go wrong with lobster,
but in fact it has been my experience that
very few chefs know how to take this much
valued ingredient over the line that separates
‘good’ from ‘Oh. My. Sweet. God.’ Suffice to
say, someone back there at the Tapas bar is an
artist and lobster is his canvas – there is not
a negative word to be said about the way the
tails were prepared, seasoned or presented. A
seemingly never-ending stream of plates kept
f lowing from the kitchen to my friend’s side
of the table, and sampling them strategically
left me with the impression of a full and
diverse menu, designed by chefs who knew
exactly what they were doing.
For dessert we had ice cream, which
was good if not particularly memorable,
and a more unusual dish consisting of fried
goat cheese, honey and crispy bread. Now
that was memorable, as was the evening
as a whole. On the service side there were
no complaints, either, with very profes-
sional looking waiting staff each giving their
sections their undivided attention. While
friendly and competent, they didn’t seem big
on smiling, but maybe that’s supposed to be
part of the atmosphere.
Barónsstígur 2-4
Tel.: 544-4448
$ $
galbí
$
When you arrive at the otherwise fine Korean
steakhouse called Galbí, the décor and atmos-
phere seems somehow less exotic than you
expected, which is to say the décor isn’t great.
In any case, once you have been seated and
have picked out your drinks and food, a man
arrives and sets your table on fire. Gas valves
and removable metal discs in the centre of each
table turn them into stylish barbecues at the
drop of a hat. Yes, you cook your own food.
The waiter mentioned that some people
balk at the idea of cooking their own food
when they first arrive, but I can attest to the
fact that it only takes a couple of minutes of
the activity before it becomes second nature.
And fun, too, it not only gives you full control
over your dish, but eating turns into even more
of a social activity than it usually is. This is a
novelty one can easily picture Icelanders going
for.
The food itself was very good: my friend
had marinated beef while I went with fish
with mint and almonds. You get your food
in smallish chunks and the basic instructions
are to give each side about thirty seconds of
cooking before putting it on a leaf of iceberg
and adding a few oddly named Korean spices
and sauces. Then you roll it up and eat it; that
is, if you want to do it the traditional Korean
way. Personally, I couldn’t give a fig what the
traditional Korean way is – I found it bother-
some and the food was great the way it was
before it got turned into a lettuce burrito. After
about five minutes of messing around, we both
hit upon the perfect combination of Korean
whatchamacallits and ate the rest of the meal
with relish, literally. The sauces and spices
were more or less brilliant, but we soon devel-
oped a loathing for some odd condiment called
‘kimchi’, apparently an essential element of the
dish but definitely not for everyone’s palate.
For dessert we had an absolutely sublime
home-made ice cream. We also tried a very
nice Oreo cheesecake, though it was perhaps
a bit on the rich side and definitely paled
in comparison to the frozen treat that came
before it. All in all: Good marks on the food,
top marks on the friendly and attentive service
(though there weren’t too many other guests
present) but the ambiance could use some
work.
One of the problems you run into when trying
to write a restaurant review is the fact that the
best places can often leave you with very little
to say that doesn’t sound like some kind of
advertisement. Such is the case with Aus-
tur-Indía Félagið, a semi-legendary Indian
restaurant on Hverfisgata. It turns out that
it deserves its reputation as one of the finest
Asian restaurants in Iceland. Harrison Ford
for one is said to have been so enamoured with
the place that he proclaimed it served the best
Indian food he had ever tasted.
While we at the Grapevine are wary of
proclaiming anything the best in the world
(ehem), Austur-Indía Félagið is certainly
a world-class establishment. As one would
expect, the service is exemplary; our waiter
went beyond service with a smile and at times
discussing the menu with him was like having
an old friend guide you through the dining
experience. This extremely likeable man
then brought us some Indian beer and food
that was not just likeable – it was spectacular.
From tandoori shrimp to vegetable curries and
several unpronounceable meat dishes, nothing
missed the mark and the meal was clearly
crafted by someone with a great deal of expe-
rience in all kinds of Indian cuisine. An old
India hand I brought along hazarded a guess
that the cook was from the northern part of
the subcontinent, as several dishes from that
region were on the menu, but then again he
may just have been showing off. To this per-
son’s credit, however, he did recommend that
we all share a portion of Kashmiri naan bread,
in addition to the more standard garlic and
butter naan. It turned out to be a unique and
tasty treat. Kashmiri naan is somewhat sweet
without being a dessert, and comes stuffed
with dried fruit. Very Kashimiri, very differ-
ent and very good.
The only negative part of the meal came at
the end, when we realized to our dismay that
we had physically exhausted every last square
inch of our gastronomic capacity before even
getting a look at the dessert menu. Getting up
to leave was physically and emotionally taxing,
but we soon said our tearful goodbyes to the
waiter and wobbled slowly down the street in
search of a nice play to lie down.
$
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