After circling downtown Reykjavik trying to find a place to park, then spending about an hour trying to figure out how to use the meter (which did not like American chip & signature credit cards) we were grumpy and starving. We wandered up the street and marveled at how packed the tiny restaurant was. There were precisely 2 seats left in the house, and a server rushed past us out the door to the bar a couple doors down, carrying steaming bowls of something that smelled a little like lamb and heaven.

 

We wandered up to the counter and grinned at the incredibly limited menu: Seafood soup, Lamb soup, and Fisherman’s Favorite. There were a scattering of sides and desserts listed as well, but they were pretty much sold out. Starving and a little cold, we opted for one soup each. The lovely gentleman behind the counter advised us that there were free refills on the soup, which we were very happy about, considering the prices for food we had seen posted on various displays.

 

We agreed that as long as the food was even palatable, this was a great deal. Then the meals arrived, and I put the first spoon of seafood soup in my mouth. Choirs of angels heralded that bite. The broth was rich and savory, and each plunge of the spoon into the bowl dredged up new treasures of the sea. I am uncertain how many different varieties of shellfish were in that bowl, but somehow all of the flavors made friends. It is a testament to how much I love Raz that I shared even a single spoonful so he could try it.   He, on the other hand, ordered the lamb soup. He, in-turn, allowed me only a single bite. The bold flavor of lamb all but knocked me off my seat. That was the lambiest lamb dish I have ever put in my mouth! As lamb is Raz’s favorite thing ever, he was obviously the target audience for the soup. He regretted only that he was full after only two bowls.