Iceland Day 4 - Delicate Delicacy

I'm beginning to think the abnormally inconvenient weather that has become the norm is just that – normal. I'm not really surprised by the temperatures, though they are a little cooler than I expected. I'm not even surprised by the snow, though it's been far more frequent than I thought. What I am surprised by is the wind. It just won't go away and it's completely unpredictable. Somehow on the approximately mile round-trip to dinner I was assaulted both from the front and back on both legs of the trip (it was not uphill both ways, though). The steady 10+ mph winds blowing little frozen daggers is annoying enough, but the swirly-twirly 30+ gusts that feel like they are cutting my ears and neck and making my eyes water like I'm crying is just infuriating. Also infuriating was the fact that while walking to and from dinner the wind was relentless, but the second I sat down in the restaurant not only did the wind die down, but the clouds parted and the moon was out. And yet I'm not having a bad time. Not by far. It seems to be making the experience that much better and every successful outing is a small victory over nature.

Food has been the big motivator to brave the weather and both lunch and dinner were resounding successes, and triumphant victories over nature. For lunch I finally got around to trying out the Icelandic version of a hotdog, the pylsur. The best pylsur are reportedly at the small ocean front cart called Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur, which translates into “the best hotdog in town.” They're so highly regarded that British newspaper The Guardian named it the best hotdog in all of Europe a few years ago. Pylsur typically come served with both raw and fried onions, a sweet mustard, ketchup, and remoulade on top. The meat itself is a long, slender dog that is a blend of lamb and beef with a casing that has slightly more pop to it than an American dog, but nowhere near as much as a bratwurst. The dog alone tastes good, which popular myth attributes to the dog being heated in beer-infused water. The fried onions give it a wonderful texture and the whole thing comes together to make a great hotdog.

Dinner was a little more exotic and might not be quite up to some peoples humane standards, but I'm not going to tell an entire culture their traditions (some nearly 1000 years old) are shit. The restaurant was Þrír Frakkar, which best as I can tell means 3 French people, and the dinner was a sampling of Plaice (flatfish), Guillemot (seabird), and Minke whale (it's a whale). The Plaice is a very mild white fish that came in a cheesy “gratin” sauce that was pretty tasty but not exactly exotic. The Guillemot came as a small, medium-rare filet in a delicious mushroom “game sauce.” At first bite my brain reeled and rebelled at the gaminess and screamed foul because it tasted like chicken liver, which I absolutely despise. I took a deep breath and then another bite, this time letting it sit in my mouth for a minute and more subtle, earthy flavors revealed themselves and suddenly I was in love. It was amazing, maybe even life changing. It's almost got me considering giving liver another chance...almost. The final course was the one I was the most curious about - the whale steak. Whaling has been an integral part of Icelandic culture for over 900 years and despite the many ethical arguments it brings up, it's a fiercely defended practice. Regardless of your view on whaling, I just couldn't pass up an opportunity to try it and I have to admit I was a bit disappointed. I did enjoy it, with it's slightly gamey, but mostly beefy flavor, but it wasn't amazing or terrible and I had been hoping for one or the other. The Guillemot stole the show, however, and even if the other two courses had sucked I would still have considered it a win.

While watching the news that I don't understand I got a vague impression that maybe tomorrow it's not supposed to snow. The weather segment of the news doesn't involve radar or satellite images, and the one map they do show has lots of numbers and arrows that I think I understand, but I couldn't figure out what days the report was for. Regardless, I'm still doing the no-snow dance.