Café Opera

It was a windy, rainy June day. Even hardy tourists seemed to have abandoned Laugavegur and Austurstræti. We climbed the narrow stairs of Café Opera in search of protection from the forces of nature and found an enclave of disappearing visitors. Café Opera's regular advertising in free tourist information brochures seems to have paid off. The cloakroom was a sea of bright blue and yellow all-weather coats. A United Nations of languages provided the background music of the dimly lit establishment. Ours was probably the only table where Icelandic was spoken.

The newcomers to Iceland seem to have chosen wisely. We enjoyed our meal at Café Opera and, judging by the murmurs of approval at nearby tables every time a new course was presented, so did the other guests. Café Opera has a more creative menu than many of Reykjavík's "Icelandic cuisine" restaurants. Alongside the more traditional grilled lamb and chicken options, there was salted cod with Jerusalem artichokes, trout with fruit chutney and trout with banana. My starter was a generous salad, built from a fluffy stack of mixed leaves and coriander, drizzled (slightly too enthusiastically) with a strawberry vinaigrette and studded with slivers of tender game. I chose grilled halibut with citrus risotto as the main dish, the creamy yet tart lemony sauce perfectly complementing the simply prepared fish.

Café Opera's gimmick is their section of "Hot Rock Fantasy" items. Pieces of fish, beef and lamb are skewered and presented to the diner on a sizzling square rock, a tempting baked potato and side salad completing the trio. The diner cooks his or her own dinner on the rock, with assistance from garlic butter and other condiments to keep everything from sticking. I admire Café Opera's faith in the ability of its customers to cook their lamb to perfection, but the concept was certainly popular and the result as good as what the chef would have prepared.

The entire three-course affair was over fairly quickly. Service at Café Opera should certainly be commended for its friendliness, but, if possible, it was a little too efficient. The attitude did not make me feel rushed, but the pace did, as did the raucous noise of a large group of Scandinavians at the next table. Fortunately by the time we had finished the last spoonful of crème brûlée, the rain had subsided and we left the cosy, almost chalet-style atmosphere of the restaurant.

It was short but sweet, enjoyable but not unforgettable. I have no doubt that the owners of the multi-coloured outdoor jackets scattered into the evening mist proud of grilling their halibut on a sizzling rock.

Reviewed by Eliza Reid