B5 Bar + Bistro in Bankastræti 5 in Reykjavik – You can’t miss it, there’s a black horse in the window. The interior is clean, Eames and Wolther chairs, chunky wood tables, leather benches with high backs, and everyone is invited: women, men, children and drunks. After midnight this bistro turns into a mini club with a DJ and true Icelandic party goers (explanation: what happens in Reykjavik – stays in Reykjavik).

B5 is comfortably full on an early Saturday evening. It’s 5:30 PM. The three of us, two of my Icelandic friends and myself, sit down and ask for menus – we get lunch menus. We ask if this is the correct menu – the answer is YES. I notice that the table is sticky and so is the next table – where sits Sigurjon Sighvatsson, a Hollywood film producer, a woman and a man in their mid thirties. They’re not complaining about the sticky, dirty table, so I decide to be liberal about it as well.

Our waitress (about 17 years-old) comes over and we ask her about their white wine selection. She tells us that they have a wine called Masa and it’s good. Ok that’s valid, but I need a bit more information – what kind of wine is it? I don’t know she says, but ‘’they’’ she points at the bar, say that it’s medium dry and medium sweet. Hmm. I show my softer side and say that’s great – we’ll take a bottle. The girl happily walks away and comes back in 15 minutes empty-handed.

We order the food. I order their Lobster Bisque and ask if I can order a half a portion of the Chicken Caesar salad. Our waitress doesn’t know if that’s possible, but tells me she’ll ask. My two friends order as well (both of them had been out late the night before and so their appetites are on the greasier side) – club sandwiches with fries. Another 15 minutes go by and the food arrives. I receive the Lobster Bisque, half a Chicken Caesar (this is my confirmation that ordering half-salads is ok), and a couple of slices of fresh baguette bread and delicious herb butter. The Bisque is one of the best I’ve ever had–with generous pieces of lobster tails–the salad is completely acceptable and the presentation is impeccable.

Our waitress is out of sight, so we ask a young man who had gotten up from one of the seats to wait tables (and doesn’t speak Icelandic), about our wine. He brings Masa – medium sweet – medium dry. Our waitress comes over and smiles. She still doesn’t know that she had completely forgotten to bring the wine. My slightly tired friends ask for salt and pepper. Our waitress comes back saying ‘’we only have salt’’.

The film producer leaves. The mid thirties man + woman order beer. We finish our food and sip our wine. The mid thirties people finish their tall glasses of beer. We keep sipping wine. They stand up – the woman is pregnant.

I remind myself that I’ve lived in Seattle for 11 years – where people tend to over analyze every nitty-gritty piece of their lives and surroundings and get stressed about results before results are revealed. In Seattle we might not have sticky tables at modern bistros, “no pepper”, and pregnant women drinking beer, but certain things don’t translate well from Icelandic.

So this is when I’d say ‘’it’s so Icelandic’’. That doesn’t mean it’s bad – it doesn’t mean it’s good – it’s just Icelandic.

Good food + odd service x wicked surprise = B5