Reykjavík Grapevine - 08.11.2013, Qupperneq 43

Ó Ð I N S T O R G 1 0 1 R E Y K J A V Í K Í S L A N D S N A P S B I S T R O . I S
S n a p s b i s t r o @ s n a p s b i s t r o . i s + 3 5 4 5 1 1 6 6 7 7
An Abandoned Amusement Park
With A One-Horse Carousel
The freezing gale spat us inside like
chewed skoal. Past the yellow façade
with the green palm tree silhouette
and into the wonderfully gaudy pan-
Asian dining room decked out in the
international language of the prefab
Chinese restaurant: Foo Dogs, ornate
panels and all-gold-everything. For
a period in the mid-‘90s, Reykjavík
was home to at least five restaurants
more or less identical to Asía.
Eating ethnic food in Iceland used
to be a trip to a fantasy land—a
tour of a plastic theme park, a way
to temporarily escape the bleak
midwinter and indulge in some
national stereotypes. But the times
have changed and now Icelanders
are clamouring for trendy Brooklyn
bars, sushi and dainty dill stews in
jam jars. Twenty-four years young,
Asía stands strong, a remnant of
Iceland’s fanatical food fixations, and
an attempt to rectify our utter lack of
edible Chinese takeout.
Asía boasts a classic old school
Chinese restaurant menu with well
over a hundred individual dishes,
which is just insane enough to be
impressive. But the emphasis is
on their prix fixe lunch specials.
We ordered the satay (1290 ISK),
spring rolls (890 ISK), Szechuan
lamb (2,290 ISK) and moo shoo
pork (2,090 ISK). We ordered some
prawn crackers as well, but they nev-
er made it. We soon discovered how
they managed this dazzling array of
dishes on the menu: by ironing out
any wrinkle of variety. Those hoping
for an elegant, cyclopean wall of care-
fully balanced flavours should brace
themselves for the bland sameness
of 100 plus dishes cemented together
by the same oily gloop. I honestly
suspect them of lathering the same
sauce base over everything and only
manipulating the colour and level of
sweet and sour sauce mix. Neither of
us was able to taste anything other
than salt, oil and sugar.
The plastic tablecloth was a sensible
choice. Any other fabric would have
been permanently drenched by the
deluge of grease flowing out of that
kitchen. BP oil-drowns fewer animals
in a year than Asía manages in a
single afternoon
Oh, and the dessert was a
deep-fried banana with ice cream
(790 ISK). The banana had almost
definitely been deep-fried in the
same oil as the pork, causing it to
be infused with a hefty pork aroma.
This complemented the bargain
bin vanilla ice cream and imitation
whipped cream the way an amputee
might lop off his remaining arm for
improved balance.
I am not comparing the Chinese
restaurants in Iceland to some unap-
proachable ideal. I'm not expecting
haute cuisine and I'm not comparing
this to actual Chinese food in actual
China (I've never been). I'm compar-
ing them to the cheap Chinese take-
away I've had all over the world. The
Chinese joint I did the most business
with was a hole in a bulletproof glass
shield in a dugout in Crown Heights;
next to the hole was an aquarium full
of dead fish. Not that hard to beat.
Asía used to be a decent restaurant
and maybe it’s not beyond repair.
I'm not one for nostalgia, but I must
admit a little sadness at seeing the
state of the cooking there. Let’s just
hope it won't be replaced by yet
another trendstaurant. You might
wonder why people still go there to
eat. Why did people post “Perfect
Day” to Facebook on the day Lou
Reed died? Why do we love playing
that song—Lou Reed’s ode to heroin
use—at weddings? Why do people
with functioning taste buds see food
primarily in terms of its nutritional
value? Why can't Icelanders eat sushi
without deep-frying it? Why does
“Baby” by Justin Bieber have 920
million views on Youtube?
The answer, my friend, is frying in
the wok.
RAGNAR EGILSSON
NANNA DÍS
Asía
What We Think:
Sigh
Flavour:
Chinese (mostly)
Ambiance:
Sombre-ero
Service:
The service was actually
pretty good
Price for 2 (with wine):
12-15,000 ISK
Laugavegur 10 -101 Reykjavík
Mon–Fri: 11:30–21:00
Sat–Sun: 17:00–21:00