KRÖST
is a MUST
Although
I am but a few
months away from vegetarianism (a kind of subtle guilt has been
growing in my stomach for the past year), I recently tasted some of
the most delicious meat that I’ve had in a long time.
This
is a troubling experience for a prospective convert –
but such is life.
Taking
the place of a former bus stop (a bus stop that was notoriously
shabby), Mathöllin unites an assortment of
restaurants underneath a single roof, with a common dining area so
that patrons can sample dissimilar meals from different places.
This
is particularly
convenient if you and your partner have trouble adjudicating on
dinner-related matters (which is, I’m guessing, everyone).
What was that saying again? Relationships are just two people constantly asking each other where they want to go eat, until one of them dies?
Leaning
over the counter at
Kröst, inquiring as to the busyness of the
business, chef Gummi tells me that this is the
first day since the opening that the staff has had any respite.
“It’s
been non stop since day one.”
Fishing
for his recommendations, he reveals that the mutton is a must.
Placing my faith in his expertise, we – my girlfriend and I –
order the mutton and a hamburger, and strolling
to our seats, turn to each other and wonder if he had really meant
“mutton”
(“rollukjöt”
in Icelandic, as
in the flesh of older sheep) –
for that kind of thing isn’t typically
served in Icelandic restaurants.
“Perhaps
it’s a kind of culinary slang?” I offer.
Taking
our seats, we breathe in the atmosphere – like two nicotine addicts
inhaling vapor from an e-cigarette – and conclude that it is
decidedly lively;
there’s upbeat music playing and the patrons are chatting
noisily so that if one were of a
mind to engage in political intrigue, this would be the
place.
“This
is the kind of place where Brutus and his friends conspired against
Caesar,” I say, trying to sound intelligent, but failing miserably
(I’ve just re-read Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar).
Before
long, the skewered mutton arrives and we, endeavoring to untangle the
flesh from the spit, proceed to jab at it with our knives and our
forks. We follow this ungraceful disentanglement with a period of silent rumination, in more ways than one (contemplating
the taste as we chew).
It doesn’t really taste like lamb, we
conclude:
“It’s
got a kind of beefy quality to it,” I say.
“Kind
of pork-y as well though,” my companion counters.
“Really
good. Wow!” I exclaim.
(We
are an articulate pair of human beings with an impressive
vocabulary.)
Being a thoroughly pleasant person with an obvious passion for his craft, chef Gummi drops by to check in on us.
“This
is fantastic,” I say: “but is it really mutton?”
“Yes,
although mutton has been stigmatized by the public
– it’s really good. It’s what the Icelandic farmers eat. We love
it.”
After
Gummi takes his leave, we finish the mutton and proceed to partake of
the Kröstí
Burger. Its patty
consists of a cut of minced rib-eye with Ísbúi
cheese and it is
served with chips.
It’s really quite good.
“That
mutton though,”
I declare retrospectively, elbowing my way through a crowd of
tourists on Laugavegur.
„It’s pure magic. Albeit, the kind of thing that makes one’s imminent conversion to vegetarianism that much harder.“
(Kröst is located inside Hlemmur Mathöll and serves tasty food at a reasonable price. The beer there is unusually affordable, for Iceland.)
Additional Info: https://www.facebook.com/krost…
Words:
RTH