Rarely seen local shrimp with a beautifully clarified tomato consomme could be their staple star. Where Óx triumphs are its ode to the island dishes, like the hand harvested princess scallops from the Westfjords, served simply sliced with a wasabi cream and dotted with freshly grated locally grown wasabi. Like the chawanmushi topped with caviar: what could’ve been a decadent act of plunging into wobbly, barely-set, warm savoury egg custard is somewhat lost due to the thin serving, with even the caviar a poor cover-up. The veritable explosion of texture in every bite has the whole room sighing with pleasure.ĭishes that don’t quite hit the high notes are the ones where the kitchen reaches beyond Iceland for inspiration and then bafflingly abandons the original spirit in favour of dainty plating. One particular favourite on this occasion is a fennel pollen speckled fabric of beet, draped over cubes of grown-up gummy-bear-like rehydrated chewy beets, beet paté and house-smoked Tindur cheese with crowberry. Small, flavour-packed dishes lead to generous bites that allow for breathing room to take in the expanse of culinary alchemy in front of you. Over 16 courses, and with drinks to match several dishes, the progression at Óx is expertly tempered. Head chef Rúnar Pierre Herivaux and sous chef Agne Petkeviciute are particularly adept at introducing dishes interspersed with fun behind-the-scenes nuggets and easy to understand technical know-how. Unlike a traditional restaurant setting, the omakase style theatre allows the chefs to truly engage with the room, as if we are in their home, and dinner progresses as it might in our own kitchens. They pair wonderfully with the champagne, and also set the tone for the evening-updated Icelandic culinary traditions, without being too New Nordic-y. Smoked lamb tartlets, a fun play on the “amma made hangikjöt tartalettur”, arrive as dainty hors d’oeuvre of nickel-sized discs of intensely smoked lamb. On this occasion, my dining companions are travellers from across the world and a few locals we swap travel tips over whipped butter with a thin lavash-like cracker. Just how an indulgent tasting menu comes together in this summer-cabin like space, might be the greatest magic of all.ĭinner begins promptly at 6.30 pm, and the conversations begin to flow just as freely as the bubbles in our Jean Laurent Blanc de Blancs champagne. Wines are cooling in their ice-baths and sauces and other potions bubble away on the tiny hotplate behind. Multiple mise en place abound on the countertops below-there are hand-carved walnut platters cradling secret ingredients, whisper-thin blown glass bowls by Carissa Baktay that mysteriously merge with Icelandic lava stone, and creamy ceramic cups and plates. Once seated, you have a perfect view of the entire room. To complete that picture of homely nicety, the chefs in their crisp white jackets stand smiling, like the genial hosts they are. A high, omakase style bar wraps around an old, lovingly restored kitchen, and just 11 seats await expectant diners. You walk into Óx through Sumac, and the bustling market-like hubbub of the latter is drowned out as the black door opens and chef Þráinn Freyr warmly welcomes you into his truly humble abode. Now, it boasts of being the Nordic White Guide’s only Global Master restaurant in Iceland, and a recently awarded Michelin star at the 2022 Nordic awards furthers its glocal standing. Replete with a salvaged kitchenette that Þráinn’s grandfather built, Óx is the clear realisation of a long held dream. Since its opening, the restaurant has risen from quiet obscurity-nestled as it is at the back of Sumac, chef/owner Þráinn Freyr Vigfússon’s other venture, in a black timber house. References are made to adventures, travels and leaving the familiar behind. An other-worldly, whimsical site full of magical creatures that seem to belong to land, sea and sky all at once, scamper and disappear along the moss-green landing page. Your first taste of things to come at Óx might be their website that-like many fine dining restaurants-doesn’t really reveal a menu, but sets the tone for what to expect. I’m amused by the intense reception, a far cry from my first visit to Óx five years ago when the restaurant was only whispered about in hardcore food-loving circles and the welcome a lot more laidback. I must be early, I think to myself, now seated at the bar at Sumac. “No, no, no, you can’t go in there yet!,” a harried waitress stops me in my tracks as I approach the doors to Óx.
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