Pizza with a dash of attitude and sprinkling of germs

Here in Reykjavík there’s a pizza joint called Eldsmiðjan, which is commonly agreed to be best pizza joint in the country because they have a special Italian pizza oven that they use, which ‘Sets Them Apart’. Most people agree that when you want to order a good pizza – a really good pizza – you order from Eldsmiðjan.

Personally I’ve never been a huge Eldsmiðjan fan – I rarely order pizza for dinner and when I do it’s usually instigated by some sort of special offer deal from my local Dominos or Hrói Höttur outlet. However, when I was working late with a few people a few weeks ago someone ordered a pizza from Eldsmiðjan, and I had to concede that it was very good and even a notch above common pizza fare.

So a couple of weeks ago, when EPI was off doing something else and YT couldn’t be bothered to cook, I decided I’d take AAH and myself to Eldsmiðjan for dinner. I hadn’t been in years. In fact, it had changed hands at least once since the last time I was there.

On entering, I immediately noted that the place was all grimy. The entrance is down in the basement of the house, and there, next to the till, is where they bake their pizzas in their big-assed Italian wood-burning oven. It’s pretty cramped, really, and the counter where they were assembling the pizzas was a total mess. Tomato sauce splattered all over the place, the floor pretty filthy, covered with bits of food and dirt. The upstairs, where the tables are located, was somewhat more tidy, but not a lot.

The service was friendly enough, but I must confess that I was rather vexed when a large group of people that arrived after we did and who clearly were friends of the proprietors and the waitstaff got their food first, while AAH and I waited. And waited. And waited. And watched as people at another table, that also had arrived later than we did, got their food. Finally I got up, apprehended the waitress, and asked politely if our food would be arriving anytime soon? By this time around 45 minutes had passed and our cokes were already flat. At which point our pizzas were promptly delivered to our table.

Last night we decided to order from Eldsmiðjan again, primarily because the pizza AAH ordered that last time was so tasty – prosciutto ham and arugula salad with fresh parmesan on top. At the designated time, EPI and I went to pick them up. Again there was that cramped little space beside the till where four people were working and which was just as grubby as the last time – tomato sauce splattered all over the counter and nearby shelf, pizza ingredients strewn over the general surroundings and the floor just filthy. Meanwhile, one young girl was wielding a long pizza spatula, shoving pizzas in and around the oven and looking decidedly ill tempered.

As we stood there waiting to be served, we watched her dump one pizza into an open pizza carton and then turn back to the oven. ‘Damn, I wouldn’t want to be the recipient of that pizza,’ thought I, watching steam waft into the air as the pizza turned cold in the draft from the open door. A couple minutes passed, then the ill-tempered girl dumped another pizza into a smaller box, and then another. Both were also left open. At this point, she turned and cut the pizzas into slices, zip-zap, real quick, and turned back to the oven. And then it was our turn to be served.

I gave my name, only to discover to my dismay that the two pizzas that had been exposed to the cold air for the previous 5-10 minutes were actually ours. At which I was, obviously, quite incensed.

YT: I can’t believe you’re going to give me those two pizzas, they’ve been standing open in that box for about 10 minutes.
GIRL-IN-BAD-MOOD: They have not.
YT: I’ve been standing here for the past 10 minutes looking at the box.
GIBM: It’s supposed to be cold. Otherwise the lettuce just cooks.
YT: […] [Not much you can say to that]

At this point, the girl who was serving customers and taking payment [and who had been looking a little embarrassed during the previous exchange] quickly turned around, grabbed a bunch of arugula and started tearing it up and distributing on the pizzas. Incidentally – did I mention she’d just been engaged in taking people’s money and giving back change? And had not washed her hands? I glanced at EPI who was looking very grim, though I suspect it had rather more to do with YT’s shooting off her mouth than the fact that the girl was spreading yucky dirty-money-that-has-passed-through-a-million-hands germs on our pizzas. I bit my tongue. The girl took a package of prosciutto ham, opened it, and started pulling apart the bits of ham and then tearing it into little pieces in front of us, with her grimy money hands and no-doubt filthy fingernails. I glanced at EPI, who glanced at me. I bit my tongue harder. I made a conscious decision to keep my mouth shut…

… and to blog about it. And, in fact, to start a whole new links section on my sidebar, specifically devoted to restaurants in Niceland. [It needs a little tweaking still - please bear with me.] Do my bit, like. For the tourists. And the Population at Large. Be of service. Make a difference.

And so: Eldsmiðjan. Yes, their pizzas are tasty. Yes, their crusts are dry and a little burnt and probably all authentic. But you’ll have to wait for delivery. You’ll have to turn a blind eye to the lack of hygiene. You’ll have to eat your pizza knowing that someone who has just been handling money may have handled your pizza without washing her hands. You’ll have to contend with bad-tempered pizza bakers. And you’ll be charged more than at any other take-out pizza joint in town.

Enjoy!

WEATHER: light winds from the east, 5-10 m/s mostly dry, gearing up for more wind tomorrow evening. Currently it’s 4°C and the sun came up this morning at 5am sharp, and wet down at 21.52.