Iceland V

Saturday, November 28, 2015

My alarm was set for noon as a friend was coming by to get me to walk with me to get hot dogs and go to the flea market. Let’s just say the food equivalent to Ron Burgundy in Iceland would be the hot dogs. The place to go is Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur which according to Condé Nast Traveler (CNT) translates to “best hot dogs in town”. I’ve talked with a couple friends of mine who have gotten the hot dogs on previous trips, and some of those hard edged New Yorkers find them to be “too sweet”. But also according to CNT Icelandic hot dogs are made from “Icelandic lamb, along with a bit of pork and beef…which is free-range, grass-fed, organic and hormone-free” This might be part of the reason why they taste “too sweet” to some of those dirty water dog lovers in America that aren’t used to the fresh organic way of life (I feel sorry for you guys, it’s a good way to be).  Rumor has it (or at least my friend who accompanied me said) there’s a little beer mixed in with the pure clean Icelandic water that the dogs are boiled in as well. Now, I do love me a hot dog or two over the summer, especially at a ball game but I’m more of a grilled girl than a boiled one. So when I heard that these lil pups were boiled my heart sank. But I was there, and everyone says it is a “must eat” and so I braved my fear and ordered a “eina með öllu”, which for my fellow English speaking folks out there translates to “one with everything”. If you want two+ (which at only 400K a pop, about 3 and change American, you are going to want more than 1. If not now, at 4 AM. But more on that later.), well the “eina” I believe is the word one, so if you can’t say 2 maybe pop up the two fingers and follow it with just the “með öllu”. But trust me, Reykjavik is a very English speaking friendly town. But, it’s nice to know a couple of words so you don’t look like “such a tourist” that you don’t want to even try to embrace some of the local language. Time for me to get off my soap box and back to the dogs. You may be asking, “What is everything?” Well CNT puts it best. Everything is “raw white onions and crispy fried onions, ketchup, sweet brown mustard called pylsusinnep, and remoulade, a sauce made with mayo, capers, mustard, and herbs.” This is the way to eat it as an Icelandier. Oh and genius(!) toppings go in between the bun and the dog and sauces only on top of the dog. This helps save a lot of mess of toppings dropping all over you as they are held in place by the dog on top. Let me tell you, after taking one bite, I was hooked. Boiled? Who cares! Maybe the problem all my life has been the “dirty water” compared to the Icelandic water. All I know now is that if the dog has got to be boiled it better been in some Icelandic water, otherwise I’m not going near it with a 10 foot pole. Still on the fence on if grilled or Icelandic boiled is better. Without having an Icelandic dog, the water, and the toppings to test it out here on a grill, it’s hard to tell. I’d call breakfast (it was my first meal of the day) a raging success!

My friend’s father offered to pick us up and drive us outside of Reykjavik so I could see some of Iceland’s natural wonders that are hard to see if you are staying within the city unless you do a tour or you rent/have a car. (I’m an awful driver and hate tours). We drove out to see the natural wonders of the geothermal area in Krýsuvík. With all of the undisturbed snow from the previous couple of nights snowfalls it looked otherworldly. I could see why Iceland had been used as backdrops for many films taking place on other worlds and/or in other times. CGI could never master this natural beauty. If I become a better driver I would like to take an opportunity to go back one night with a full tank a gas (to keep warm) and just sit there in the middle of the night in the still darkness and be one with nature (with frequent trips to the car get warm). I felt a connection to the Earth there, one that is hard for me to find in my normal hectic life. It was as if time was standing still for those moments I was there looking out at the vast expanse of nothingness around me. This will definitely be a place on my list to go check out in the summer time as well. As beautiful as it was with all the snow, I am curious what it looks like without the snow.

That evening I tried Icelandic pizza. I grew up 15 minutes outside of New Haven, Connecticut, I lived in NYC for many years, and my father’s family has it’s roots in Napoli and I’ve been there on more than one occasion. So trust me I know pizza. I’ll tell you I liked it better than Chicago style pizza. I’ve also tried Chicago’s thin crust and I like it better than that too. I also like it better than California’s (except for the LA extension of Joe’s NY, which somehow (because California water is not New York water, and we all know NY’s pizza and bagels (and maybe their hot dogs?) is all about the water) gives me a taste of home while I’m away on the west coast). It has a crust somewhere between New York and New Haven style. The toppings were in a good cheese, sauce, toppings ratio. My only complaint is, I like my dough to be crispy (it’s all those New Haven brick ovens that spoiled me!) and it wasn’t quite there for me. It certainly wasn’t under cooked as I feel Chicago’s and even some of Napoli’s can be, but it wasn’t up there with New York and New Haven (And Brandi in Napoli.). All in all I will say I was however pleasantly surprised at the pizza offerings.

A note about how nice Icelandic people are (when not drunk after 2 AM in a bar):

When my friend’s father was driving me back to my place he saw two older women struggling to shovel their sidewalk and so he pulled over and the three of us (myself, my friend, and his father) all got out of the car and finished the shoveling for these two women. They were were grateful. My opinion of Icelandic people continued to go up.

After getting back to my place I met with some of the guys from the night before for a couple of drinks at the hostel before heading downtown. We stayed at the American Bar and The English Pub all night. Which when you’re with tourists only, I suppose that will happen. I didn’t want to venture off on my own, and they guys were having fun and I was having fun with them so it was okay. Until the pushing began again. It started becoming so unbearable that I started shouting after people “‘Excuse you!” and one of the guys from my group started actually going over to the guys and making them come back and apologize to me. It made me feel better to stick up for myself and to have someone stick up for me. And maybe just maybe these guys learned a little bit about manners. (BTW this was not strictly men, the women pushed through as well.)

Come closing time we all piled out into the snow and immediately headed for Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur . Because after a night out of drinking and dancing, and not eating for 8 hours, you need a hot dog, or two. No, definitely two. Another night out until last call, another 6 AM bedtime….