Food in Iceland: Weird? Yes! Disgusting? Neigh!

In front of Joel was a small cup of cubed flesh, a small cup of dried fish strips, and a shot of clear liquor. Behind him, from a wall-length mural, Loki looked out at us, the stupid tourists who ordered "The Icelandic Braveheart" at his namesake cafe.

Joel took a sip of the clear liquor: brennivín, a potato-mash and caraway schnapps. A strong burn followed each sip, but not an unpleasant one. This was not the type of drink to lose track of.

"Ready?" I said, phone camera rolling, as Joel picked up one of the cubes of flesh with a toothpick.

He smiled, popped it in his mouth, and chewed. I braced for gagging, hacking, choking, and maybe even vomit. But instead he made a weird face, chewed some more, took another sip of brennivín, chewed some more, and swallowed. I stopped filming.

"What did it taste like?"

"Rotten ammonia." He took a longer sip of schnapps this time. A true Icelandic Braveheart.

Since there wasn't a recurrence of Joel's lunch spewed all over the table, I picked up my own cube, popped it in my mouth, and forced the rubbery piece of hakarl - rotten shark - down my throat. I downed the rest of the brennivín and thought about how I would tell everyone I had eaten one of the world's most disgusting foods, and the rest of the food in my stomach survived. But I wasn't an Icelandic Braveheart: I'd held my breath.

Though most famous for its less appealing foods - ram's testicles, fermented shark, whale (which is less appealing for reasons other than its taste) - Reykjavík pleasantly surprised me in terms of their other offerings. Our first time at Café Loki, before the shark visit, we'd had lamb soup and mashed fish, which is just mashed potatoes, vegetables, white fish and cheese, in kind of a shepherd's-pie-of-the-sea crock. This was also the first time I had Icelandic rye bread, which is much different from what we serve a reuben on. It's more of a sweet, soft loaf, almost like banana bread, and is the perfect pillow for Iceland's delicious butter to lay its creamy head. We also treated ourselves to rye ice cream, which was a rich vanilla with the bread laced throughout.

The "unofficial" favorite food of Iceland is actually one also quite familiar to us: the hot dog, or pylsur, which, according to Trip Advisor, is commonly served with "ketchup, sweet mustard, fried onion, raw onion, and remoladi, a mayonnaise-based sauce with sweet relish." The most famous place to get one in Reykjavík is the aptly named Baejarins beztu pylsur, which literally translates to "the best hot dog in town." We stopped by on a drizzly day (which could have been any of them, to be honest) and ate in the rain, sharing a bit of bun with a little speckled bird who wouldn't leave the picnic area. Joel's first pylsur didn't impress him a great deal, although what could you expect when you don't like onions and most of the deliciousness is onion-based? However, we stopped by another stand after a dip in the thermal pools at the Laugardalslaug, and Joel's faith was restored. Hallelujah!

Another treat after slogging around in the drizzle and wind was a bread bowl, which also seems to be extremely popular in Iceland. I suppose they don't have Panera, but they do know how to make better soup. While touring the Golden Circle with Gateway to Iceland touring company, our stopover at Gullfoss waterfall included a bowl of lamb soup, which was - our guide Gunnar didn't lie - the best bowl of soup I'd ever had. I suppose for a country that has pretty much only raised one animal ever since it was colonized (around 850), they've had time to perfect cooking it.

Also brought to the island by settlers were horses - sturdy, small horses that are shaggy and hearty year round. They were not only essential for farming, but essential for eating, as the island's climate did not support cattle or much agriculture. After the forced adoption of Christianity in 1000, eating horse meat was forbidden, but the ban had to be lifted soon after due to starvation. Though we skipped trying whale for ethical reasons - and by extension puffin, since the only restaurants that served it also served whale - we did try horse. I'm only a little sheepish to admit that I would hoof it back to Vegamont for another helping.*

We also ate salmon smorgasbord at Jomfruin, drank Czech Budvar (the only acceptible thing Budweiser makes), gorged ourselves on salted licorice, marveled at how delicious and filling a roll with butter, ham, and cheese can be (especially when drunk), discovered how disgusting salted licorice gum is, tried crowberry jam on everything, and made glasses out of pistachio buns.

Overall, we were sad to leave the culinary treasures Iceland had to offer, especially the bread. Like most of Europe, the bread in Iceland was baked daily, crusty, soft, and perfect. I couldn't pass up one more baguette on the plane on the way home, even if it did cost me 900 ISK (about $7). After all, as the menu said, "Long bread is more fun than shortbread. you can use it in many fun ways if you want. You could try balancing it on your nose or head, or even use it to poke your neighbor (only if you know them!) Or you can just eat it."

*You equine lovers might be delighted to know that the next day, when we stopped on the side of the road to say hi to some of the shaggy beasts, one of them obviously could tell that Joel was a traitor to its kind and bit him.