Reykjavík Grapevine - 19.11.2018, Blaðsíða 6

It started innocently and mundanely
enough—an old bunker down at Reykja-
vík’s Nauthólsvík beach was to be reno-
vated, with an estimated cost of 158
million ISK. When all was said and done,
however, the total cost amounted to 415
million ISK, leaving many members of
Reykjavík City Council confused and
angry, and Mayor Dagur B. Eggertsson
in a vulnerable political position.
Best laid plans
The bunker, a relic from Iceland’s occu-
pation days, was fitted out with a cafete-
ria, with the end goal of renovating the
entire building to be a lecture hall for
the University of Reykjavík. When the
final bill came, however, it was appar-
ent that the actual cost of renovation
went over-budget by 257 million ISK.
Initially, Dagur downplayed the
excessive costs, pointing out that the
final budget for the Mathöll at Hlem-
mur ended up being three times the
estimated cost. Nonetheless, People’s
Party councilperson Kol brún Baldurs-
dóttir called for a line item invoice to
determine where the money for the
bunker went.
171 days spent
in design alone
Magazine DV managed to get their
hands on some of the invoices for the
project. Amongst the costs, they found
a bill for 3,324,540 ISK just for design
work alone. This, in turn, prompted
Eyþór Arnalds, the leader of the Inde-
pendence Party for Reykjavík City
Council, to tell reporters that ultimately
the responsibility falls on Dagur, and as
such it would be only natural for Dagur
to resign.
The scandal has hit the Social Demo-
crats hard, and they have since taken a
steep fall in the polls. Logi Einarsson,
an MP for the party, told reporters that
he wasn’t surprised that the general
public has been upset by this news.
Dagur, who is currently on sick leave
due to chronic illness, has not given
any signs or indications that he is even
considering resigning. If the scandal
continues to grow, however, he may
find his position growing increasingly
tenuous.
Icelandic candy is
a divisive topic. You
can find YouTube
videos of people
from around
the world trying
Icelandic candy for
the first time, most
of them featur-
ing reactions of
horror and disgust
at the ubiquity of
liquorice. This is
where Lindu Buff
stands out.
Lindu Buff,
mercifully,
contains
abso-
lutely no
liquorice
whatso-
ever. It
makes up
for this by
answer-
ing the
age-old
question:
“How can I
eat giant dollops of
marshmallow whip
without getting my
fingers sticky?”
The answer, of
course, is to coat
those lumps of
puffed sugar paste
with a thin veneer
of milk chocolate.
You can either buy
one palm-sized
lump, individually
wrapped, or get a
box of a dozen or
so slightly smaller
ones. As for the
taste, what can
we say? If you
like marshmallow
whip, you’ll love
this stuff. But even
then you’ll probably
only manage one
of the large ones
or a couple of the
small ones at a time
before your teeth
begin to ache.
If you want to be
really creative, you
can make a s’more
sandwich with
them: put a couple
of the large ones
between two slices
of bread, smash
it flat, and then
fry the results in a
pan with plenty of
butter. We haven’t
actually ever tried
this, but if you do,
please take a video
of yourself eating
one and send it to
us, so that we may
document your
findings.
Lindu Buff is a
good choice if you
want to bring back
Icelandic candy as
a gift for some-
one who loathes
liquorice. And given
the sugar content,
it’ll likely last a good
long time, too. AF
Over-Budget City Project
Could Spell The End For
Reykjavík Mayor
Renovations of a single small building
exceeded budget by hundreds of millions
Words:
Andie Fontaine
Photo:
RIFF
First
In an effort to dispel rumours sur-
rounding brennivín, the drink of
Iceland, we asked historian Stefán
Pálsson to clarify the origins of this
fiery schnapps:
When the alcohol prohibition started
in 1915, a practice known as moon-
shining, (illegal homemade distil-
lation spirits) became widely prac-
tices as a way of combatting the ban
on strong liquor. After the ban was
lifted and state liquor stores opened
in 1975, the government needed to
create a drink that could overtake
the alcohol market and compete
with homemade spirits. The solution
was the state-concocted brennivín,
or “fire wine,” a cheap spirit fla-
voured with caraway seeds (cumin)
to achieve the liquorice-like taste
the drink is famously known for.
Manufactured using easily grown
herbs, the government worked with
cheap materials to create a readily
accessible and affordable drink that
soon overtook the market.
With time, brennivín fell out of
favour. The cheap economic incen-
tive behind the drink backfired as
it started earning a reputation of
being the “drunkard’s drink”. In an
attempt to regain its share of the
market, the team behind brennivín
recruited an advertising agency
to rebrand their image. Minuscule
changes were made to the already
minimalistic design of the well-
known green bottle with its black
label.
Though it may not be the drink
of choice for Icelanders, brennivín
has earned a reputation for its ap-
peal to tourists. So the next time
you pick up a brochure touting how
vikings used to drink brennivín, keep
in mind that this newly popular drink
was actually invented by a group of
bureaucrats trying to break into the
recently opened alcohol market fol-
lowing the alcohol prohibition.
ASK A
Historian
Q: The origins of brennivín
and how did it become
the nation’s drink?
6 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 19— 2018
FOOD OF
ICELAND
NEWS
Lin
du
bu
ff
Our beleagered mayor, Dagur B. Eggertsson
Words: Mulan
Photo: Ásgeir Ásgeirsson
Breathtaking
Experience
is a
A journey into ARHÓLSHELLIRRAUF
For more information and bookings:
www.thelavatunnel.is
+354 519 1616 +354 760 1000
info@thelavatunnel.is