“You cover the butter with the whole portion,” my father shows. “Like this,” he says, gently squeezing the masala dosa with a speck of white butter. I watch, mesmerizing, as the fat glistens and disappears, leaving a milky streak and already glossing the lacquered dose with fresh grease. I’m about six to eight years old and we’re in one of the many popular “darshinis” in Bangalore – ironically named fast food joints where the bulk of the menu is a tribute to dishes that are difficult and notorious to make. Usually my impatient father slows down here. How to eat cans is a secret shared; a little bridge between us. I even understood then that going out to eat is special. There is an atmosphere in restaurants, a magical slowdown of time and it touches everyone in it. And I felt lucky to be able to be in the secret.
As I got older, I continued to enjoy food as I did as a child. So much so that I’ve made a career out of it. Restaurants still hold all the magic of Neverland for me. Because your only responsibility is pleasure while living a normal life constantly thunders outside the door. It’s its own magnificent bubble. Everything is better when eating. Be it at star-studded restaurants that take you on a culinary adventure that spans textures, flavors and ingredients, or bustling street-side joints where smoky plates of sweaty delicacies make everyday evenings memorable.
The nonchalant choreography plates on the pass, where everything is arranged, making their way to you from the kitchen to the table feels like a private enterprise set up just for you. The knowledge that this close conversation between the chef and you will only be a memory, even when the last crumb is swept away, increases its ephemerality. Can you say I love hopeless restaurants?
Pandemic
“For a small country, Iceland can be painful to adapt to change.”
But the pandemic changed everything. Almost overnight, restaurants had to turn the whole procedure upside down. For an industry that was just beginning to come to terms with the recent trade union negotiations, it seemed to be gathering one more nail in the coffin. Tourist travel accounts for a large share of trade for the F&B industry, and subsequent relief measures seemed to be constantly shining over the hospitality industry in its efforts to influence the tourism industry. There is simply no tourism without the hospitality industry.
And Iceland, despite all its reputation as expensive, has managed to meet various budgets, the sad 1500ISK sandwich in spite of that. Travelers have made private plans just to dine at Dill, the only Michelin-starred restaurant, and waiting lists are the norm at Óx, the exclusive experience of a close chef. It is no exaggeration to say that the taste of local products and unspoiled Nordic cuisine was what attracted her.
Pandemic food policy
Accessible menus
If people can not come to the food, then the food will come to the people, seemed to be a mantra in these first days of the pandemic. Recreating the experience of the restaurant at home seems straightforward, but it is not without its own challenges. Chefs had to be quick to get their act together and prepare dishes that would travel well, heat up well and in many cases make the food accessible and bridge generations. Although it served well in the early days of the pandemic, it soon proved to be a stopgap. Restaurant menus also reflected change; there has never been an influx of “safe menus” like in 2020. But as infection rates fall and restrictions rise, I sincerely hope that chefs are willing to bend these creative muscles and reward us with the unbridled explosion of fireworks that sing in our mouths.
Alcohol reform
Guessing the alcohol tax would create a great drinking game if it weren’t so steep. Living at home with people you may care about or are not mature enough to drown out a person’s misery and no tax was considered too steep to cross the pandemic. It is not surprising that alcohol consumption went through the roof in 2020. Although monopoly is our mantra next to “this gets better”, the connection with alcohol here is interesting. You can only buy alcohol in state-owned stores. You can not buy alcohol online on site. It’s illegal. You can buy spirits from international stores. It’s legal. We have gone through enough, just lower taxes, allow restaurants and wine bars to sell alcohol online and bring about modern reforms.
Shelter
At the height of the pandemic, while the rest of the world seemed to be baking, we were busy pickling. Granted, you could not turn a corner in your kitchen without a sourdough dish staring at their faces, but kimchi kitchens seemed to be mushrooming everywhere, and social media sites were hotspots of high activity. pandemic conditions with genuine fares). This is not surprising given that the barrier to entry for residents and food lovers is so steep in Iceland. If the authorities were to simplify regulations and invest in kitchen facilities such as the Fireplace, we would see a variety of additions to the culinary landscape.
“Recreating the restaurant experience at home seems simple, but it is not without its challenges.”
Digital and delivery innovations
For a small country, Iceland can be painful to adapt to change. Globally, third-party platforms surpassed and left restaurants overcrowded with shipments. There is a lack of strong delivery infrastructure here. Both self-service restaurants and digital platforms need to be reviewed (the early adoption of Phoenix has performed particularly well in this area). Customers have moved their lives indoors and online and that would be positive for the industry. In the meantime, we can continue to enjoy the discounts offered at departures to remove the sting of browsing cumbersome websites.
Seasonal restaurants
It is easy to forget that Reykjavík is not Iceland. The loss of tourism has come down deep in places outside the capital. Based on foreign labor and feet, many like Fisherman in Suðureyri closed the shop for the foreseeable future. Although the success of “domestic travel” shone through the summer, it quickly overshadowed the growing infections that followed. What comes this summer remains to be seen. Officers such as Slippurinn and Norðaustur are tangible cultural treasures that need to be protected.
Pop-ups and locals
In Reykjavík, restaurants outside the capital area proved to be good with their local customers. They also became mobile. Dough traveled around Iceland with its baked goods. Fine only opened take-away windows in Hafnarfjörður and, silent rumors of closure, have reopened their doors on Rauðarárstígur.
Slippurinn regularly stretched out his space and gave birth to a hamburger tournament that was not shot out and turned into a gourmet gourmet shop. People from Mat Bar and Makake joined hands and brought us Dragon Dimsum, a six-week pop-up that turned out so well that it is now a stable game. The 160-seat Skelfiskmarkaðurinn has been successfully converted into a street dining hall, Götumarkaðurinn. Gandhi is now an Indian lounge bar in a new location and Chickpea by Hallveigarstígur holds up the vegetarian high street food flag.
The natural wine bar Mikki Refur, which has been quiet with pimples and soup from none other than Gunnar Karl the chef, will offer a wine-pop pop-up in 2021. The bad guys in Vínstúkur Tíu Sopar are working on a hush-hush restaurant. -bar-café at the renovated 1919 Radisson Blu.
The crux of the matter
History is proof that hardship, war, and banishment are almost always accompanied by bloated idleness, a hint of screaming 20 and swinging 60. The pandemic is changing lives in a tangible way. While travel can be a distant reality, adventures should take place here, right now, in distant lands, out in the corners of your own country and see and taste a future that remains to be imagined. And it’s yours to take in your favorite restaurants.