Iceland Day 2, Part 2: Reykjavik exploration and dinner

We backtrack a ways and duck into the Kolaportið flea market.  Christmas lights dangle from the ceiling, and bright, feathered dreamcatchers sway in the breeze of passersby.  

It’s crowded – vendors have booths set up with everything from VHSes and CDs to secondhand clothing, used books, and wall tapestries. 

There’s a fish market at the back where you can get hakarl, the famous (or infamous, depending on whom you ask) fermented shark delicacy.  It’s a little bit Pike Place Market, a little bit Goodwill, all crammed into a bustling warehouse.  We don’t see anything too unique that we'd want to buy, but enjoy wandering and soaking it all up.

Though, in retrospect, I sorely wish I'd gotten the card with the Icelandic horses on it.

John and Audrey call – they’re rejoining humanity, as they put it, and are catching a taxi into town. Time has flown by; by the time we meet up with them, it’s almost 6 and our stomachs are beginning to rumble again.  Our dinner reservations for the night are for our “splurge” meal at the esteemed steakhouse Grillmarkaðurinn, or “Grillmarket”.  We decide to try our chances at getting in a bit early, and luck out.  They’ve just opened, and our table is ready!

Now this – this is a swanky restaurant.  As a far as cities go, Seattle has its fair share of fancy (or at least expensive) restaurants, but the Grillmarket is unlike any other restaurant I've ever seen. 

Peering through the paned windows as you approach, you're greeted with a stunning modern chandelier – shiny-metallic geometric clusters floating above a spiral staircase.  

If I told you I wasn't a bit obsessed with this chandelier, I'd be lying.

Inside, the expansiveness of the two story restaurant is striking.  Below on the first floor, a purple underlit bar and mid-century modern furniture set the casual-cool lounge mood.

On the second floor where we enter, concrete pendant lamps warmly light each table, and even the tables themselves are gorgeous, rough-hewn wood slabs.  The grill portion of the kitchen is open-air, sizzling with cooking meat, and clattering with utensils and bustling kitchen staff.  As we pass by, tendrils of tantalizing scent waft after us.

No detail has gone unnoticed in this place; even the bathrooms, with their stylized-but-anatomically-correct signage for men and women, have a motion-activated waterfall for handwashing.  When you wash your hands in the trough sink, there's an almost-uncomfortable, intimate awareness upon realizing that the scooped basin and waterfall are shared with men's restroom - such that you might brush hands with an unseen stranger in the process.

We ordered an assortment of dishes, trying everything from a mini-burger trio (whale, reindeer – sadly, puffin was out of season – and lobster), lamb T-bone, a horse steak (Jason’s entrée, not mine, though it was admittedly quite good), and more.  The lamb especially stood out as amazing – buttery texture, perfect flavor.  The meats came with curly fries and sweet potato fries - a surprise on an upscale steakhouse menu, but which were expertly cooked and spiced, putting their American-made counterparts to shame.  

Not to be outdone by the food, the drinks, too, were phenomenal – from the well balanced espresso martini, to my rhubarb drink, which was like a boozy pie in a glass.  

Dear rhubarb drink: I dream of you at night.  Love, me.

The bread arrived warm, fragrant, and tasting homemade, elegantly accompanied by more rich yellow butter and black volcanic sea salt.

Dessert was equally delightful – deconstructed crème brûlée with “Snickers” (white chocolate, pistachio, caramel, and dark chocolate), The Grillmarket chocolate (“served with mascarpone sabayone, warm caramel, and coffee ice cream” – it came as a chocolate sphere embellished with gold leaf, upon which the server pours the warm caramel, causing it to implode), and their homemade ice cream “bliss”.

Deconstructed crème brûlée

"The Grillmarket Chocolate"

Ice cream bliss - their words, not mine, albeit a fairly accurate statement all the same.

Food-lovers take note: eat at Grillmarkaðurinn.  Do it.  Check out their menu.  Make a reservation.  I’m perhaps a tad too obsessive about these things, but I’d go to Iceland just to visit this restaurant again.*

After dinner we were still fairly tired but filled with the terrible knowledge that we had to beat back jetlag and stay awake.  So, we taxied back to the hotel, relaxed in the lounge, and played Magic the Gathering.  Because we’re just that cool.

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* I’m not paid to say this.  Grillmarket doesn't know who I am.  I just eat the food and report the facts.  (Facts? Opinions?  They're practically the same thing, right? :))