I took dinner in Kaffi Duus, the restaurant attached to the Hotel. The lights were dim and candles lit the tables as a few couples were scattered throughout the dining room. My waitress was friendly and gave me a gorgeous seat overlooking the cliffs I had just sitting atop, like some forlorn pondering Jane Austen character.
The restaurant’s warming dining room and a hearty Icelandic beer quickly melted away any traveling moodiness and any lingering melancholy thoughts that had been wandering my brain, leftover from things at home. Their menu was packed with lots to choose from but I found my eyes immediately going to the various traditional Icelandic offerings.
I can be a picky or sensitive eater sometimes but this was another thing my grandmother tried to train out of me at a very early age along with my dislike for reading. She would often bribe me to try new foods and tell me how boring it was to be so uncultured.
This is why even when I don’t think I’ll like something, I’ll usually at least give it a try if I’m on vacation somewhere new.
This evening I set my sights on some Icelandic lamb for my entree and for my appetizer I was even braver and ordered their fermented shark. My waitress made sure I knew what I was getting myself into, as I have heard even adventurous eaters and native icelanders sometimes aren’t fond of the pungent taste of this unique dish but I couldn’t help but be curious. I assured her that I had read about it plenty, and being the child of a Swede I was familiar with types of fish that they refuse to even open anywhere but underwater, for fear that cracking the can on the deck would fill the boat with a fishy odor that it would never be rid of. I was already a fan of Brännvin, the strong liquor that is typically served alongside the shark. We had a similar spirit in Sweden and I had already procured myself a sample size of Iceland’s twist on this favorite of mine when I stopped at the Airport’s duty free.
The shark was nothing like I’ve ever had but I will do my best to describe it. I would say the texture was like a popsicle, if it had melted a little bit but then froze back a little bit, soft and cold, almost slushy but still one piece. It was chewy and almost had no taste, but then I was suddenly hit with a waft of pungent flavor at the back of my throat that I had been warned of in my readings. Uric Acid is found in large amounts in the sharks, which is also in urine and responsible for the odor and taste, which as you can imagine, leads to a very interesting taste in the shark. Without fermenting the shark meat first, the uric acid would make the dish much too dangerous to be eaten by humans.
Unfortunately, this is what leads to the shark sometimes being described as tasting like pee. This is where the brännvin comes in. Don’t worry. Once you have a swig of this, you will forget all about the taste of the shark. I do recommend people who are not frequent drinkers of this libation take it in sparring sips after your bites of shark and not as a traditional american shot since it can be strong in alcohol content as well as flavor, and as my Scandinavian uncles would tell you, “Don’t break your teeth!” (On the shot glass!)
The shark that is typically eaten by Icelanders is the Greenland shark. The Greenland shark can live an incredibly long time and moves very slowly at great depths. In days long ago it was used for its oil and then was used for the large quantities of meat it provided. A single shark can average in at over 700 pounds, yielding a plentiful supply of meat and most of the shark is used. Despite this, I am still wary of the ethics of eating it since it is a shark that scientists do not know much about and are not sure of how certain fishing practices could exactly impact their populations. I am still glad though I could try a traditional Icelandic food and my waitress told me many sharks are actually caught in nets by accident and the quantity of meat each person is served is very small so I felt a little bit better partaking in it.
The lamb was tender, flavorful and laid with a halo of potatoes, other root vegetables and mushrooms. Scraping up every bit of the gravy I found myself quickly full & longing once again for the cozy sheets of my warm hotel room and its little window peering into the marina.
Breakfast was served as promised, and at 7am I found myself completely alone in the restaurant from the night before, with a polite sign steering me towards the breakfast buffet. The lights remained comfortably low as they were the night before but all the tables with fresh linens.
Instead of being off putting for being completely deserted I found it mysteriously magical. Bowls and plates of pastries and fruit laid were piled daintily upon silver serving platters,cheese of all sorts, as well as carafes of coffee, tea, and milks. There was almost too many things to choose from and I found myself delightedly skipping all around taking in the elegant display before me.
Happily spreading butter with an ornate silver knife on a still soft, warm croissant, I felt as if I were in one of the stories I read as a little girl where you fall asleep in a far off castle by the sea and breakfast appears the next morning for you as if by magic, perhaps by some elves or other folk.
‘Perhaps,’ I mused to myself, ‘the Huldufólk, of Iceland are under the employment of my proprietor,” Imagining a team of Icelandic elves racing off after setting the silverware before they could be seen.
I enjoyed a final view of the cliffs, selecting a very standard Scandinavian breakfast of fruit, cheese & coffee. Wrapping some pastries in a napkin for the journey ahead of me, I bid Hotel Duus “Hejdå!” because that is how you say goodbye in Swedish and Icelandic is very hard, and some of the people of Iceland can speak some Swedish or Danish, and I went about try to see if I could get this e-sim to work and hop on a bus to Reykavik.
I did not get it to work.
I gave it the good old stubborn Swedish try, wandering in the damp windy morning, attempting to get my public transit app to load, even standing close to wifi sources like the hotel and nearby museum but still could not seem to get anything to load or a ticket to appear.
After about 30 minutes, I admitted defeat and called another taxi. At this point I was really starting to be glad I was stingy with my plane ticket since I was spending so much of my budget on Taxis.
My taxi driver was delightful though, also originating from America and we spent much of our trip in wonderful conversation as he told me facts about Iceland’s economy, geographical elements and culture.
I was excited to see all the things my new friend had told me of to see in Reykjavik, but first thing I did once he dropped me off to the apartment I had rented was call up my phone provider and just ask them to upgrade my main phone plan to one with data and international service because I thought I was going to lose my mind if I had to live without a map in the rain for one more second.
If you find yourself in Keflavik and in need of a warm bed and great food, I would highly recommend you get yourself to Hotel Duus, and don’t be afraid to try the shark!
Planetary Anecdotes 
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