Skál

While windy little Iceland is often late with global trends, trust a group of ingenious entrepreneurs to expand the definition of a gastropub while redefining casual dining in an extremely challenging market. Björn Steinar and Gísli Grímsson from Saltverk, Iceland’s best known producer of sea-salt, and Chef Gísli Matthias Auðunsson from Slippurinn are the stellar team behind Skál! Iceland’s true gastropub.

With its laser-sharp focus on local produce, sustainable seasonality extending to both food and drinks, Skál manages to cater to vegans, pescatarians, the adventurous and the not-so-adventurous without sacrificing substance. Unlike chefs and dishes that rely on ‘Asian’ ingredients as a sign of a worldly palate, Skál eschews tokenism for careful consideration.

The smoked carrot dish exemplifies this approach. Carrots are ribboned and marinated in a soy sauce and söl (Icelandic dulse) soak, rendering them smoky, slinky, snappy and briny all at once. Piled high on a fisherman’s style sourdough toast with pipettes of dill-lovage cream, reminiscent of a Nordic Green Goddess dressing and a snowy sprinkle of fresh horseradish, a single bite is a reminder of what a farce the ‘salad for vegans’ trope is.

There are cocktails on tap, turning foraging for the masses into a whole new experience that blurs urban and rural lines with ingredients like pineapple weed, angelica, lovage. There are craft beers on rotation, perhaps a sunny mango brew from Bruss Copenhagen, or a more local rhubarb cider––sharp and acidic. Natural wines are made approachable with affable service, reasonable prices and a selection that caters to most palates––Slovakian pet-nats, Spanish Succés and rarer Aúrelian Petit from Le Petit Domaine.

Skál doesn’t preach its principles about food. Instead, it’s a lively, joyous celebration of flavor. The beef tartare shines alongside house-made creamy ricotta, the lamb ribs’ fattiness is cut by pomegranate glaze (in the summers it’s a rhubarb jús). Smoke, salt and savory often make an appearance; be it in the unassuming buttermilk, or the unexpected spike of sesame oil in their cocktails.

The attractively priced (with each dish well under 2500 ISK, a rarity both at this price point and quality) plates are meant for sharing. Although it’d be hard to share the gently baked Arctic char with crushed new potatoes swimming in a boatload of shallot butter sauce studded with capers, the dish could be anyone’s comfort food. Pair this with a lemonade-like 2016 Vulcanica Pet-Nat from Slovakia and soak in the exuberant atmosphere for a near-perfect day while in Reykjavik.

Published, October 2019.