That Greenhouse Place In Hafnarfjörður: New Nordic Cuisine With A View At Sól

Some restaurants are easier to remember than others. For whatever reason, I kept getting the name of this one wrong and thought it was called Gró, Gló or Gróður at various intervals. Nothing like a restaurant critic discussing a non-existent restaurant. I’m now like 99.9 percent certain that this restaurant is called Sól. Yes, let’s go with Sól. It’s what it says on their website.

Salad days

“It’s a type of service that feels almost mockingly cheerful, which seems like something Gen Zers being forced to serve a graying room of upper-middle class people would develop.”

“Sól” is Icelandic for “sun” and the restaurant happens to be nestled in a glass greenhouse at the edge of the industrial side of the Hafnarfjörður marina, with magnificent views of the ocean and nearby golf course on one side and a slightly less magnificent view of oil tanks and storage lots on the other, which made for a wonderfully discordant entrance.

The restaurant has been very well-received by the Hafnarfjörður locals, and the room was packed on the two occasions I visited. After walking up the stairs past the main growroom, you arrive at the modestly sized dining area. Below your feet are rows of vibrant salad buds and tucked in the corner are kegs and brewing equipment, which the waiter assures me will be put to further use in the near future.

With transparent floors, ceilings and walls, every surface gleams like a utopian cube or the set of a mid-budget Marvel movie. In a world (insert movie trailer voice) where most restaurants make do with building a home in one of the eye-searingly pricy rental spaces in downtown Reykjavík, the owners Sölvi Steinarr, Guðrún Auður Böðvarsdóttir, Björk Bjarnadóttir and Brjánn Guðjónsson opted for a greenhouse in a Hafnarfjörður shipyard, and it really should be celebrated.

“BUT REALLY, HOW WAS IT!?”

Each table is decorated with an edible chia-pet-looking bush of Greek basil, which was great for a finishing touch on the potato bread with whipped butter. The acoustics were less of a problem than I expected, but still be prepared to dip your tie into the butter as you lean in to speak across the table. The menu selection is a perfectly disciplined five starters, five mains and two desserts, which were surprisingly focused on New Nordic cuisine, as the clientele seems to consist entirely of locals. The emphasis is on locally sourced fish and seafood, much like the nearby Von mathús, which is the only sane choice in a town built entirely by the fishing industry. Having tried all 12 dishes, I feel confident in saying that it is in the execution of those 12 dishes where Sól falters.

“I realise it may sound odd to call a caramelised cheese spread with liquorice and blueberries ‘familiar’ but in Iceland, it kind of is.”

The service was perfectly reasonable but of a variety that has been gathering steam in Iceland lately, and one that I can’t quite figure out. It’s a type of service that feels almost mockingly cheerful, which seems like something Gen Zers being forced to serve a graying room of upper-middle class people would develop. The servers also inserted themselves multiple times into intimate conversations, despite no changeover in service, with questions of “how was your meal?” delivered like they were speaking to someone in palliative care. But this is an endemic issue and not limited to Sól, so we’ll leave it at that.

For starters we went with the smoked haddock and the shellfish soup. The haddock was served on a delicate potato mousse with a sprinkling of beurre noisette crumble. The dish was pleasant, but smoke did overwhelm the other flavours, even the noisette, which is usually more than able to hold its own. The shellfish soup seemed to be completely unseasoned and unflavoured, but the shrimp and scallops provided bursts of seasoning if you arranged your bites correctly. An unusually fine touch, and I’m not entirely sure it was intentional.

The mains redeemed things somewhat. A fillet of fresh skate had excellent texture but was far too seasoned and needed further flourishes to carry the day. The incredibly crisp and fresh side salad with a skyr dressing went some way to make up for the disappointment.

The beef tenderloin, paired with broccolini, mushrooms and gravy, was a return to safer territory — a dish that at least had the courage of its convictions, even if it didn’t push beyond steakhouse expectations. The meat was slightly undercooked but had a sincere grill texture.

“NICE ENOUGH”

A restaurant can be noteworthy in three ways: by being innovative, excellent, or both. You can make up for a lack of wow-factor by quietly doing that thing you do at a very high level, even if your menu has stayed the same since the stone age. Then again, you can get away with some messy execution by swinging for the fences in terms of innovation and concept. Finding both is a rare treat, and they rarely stay hidden for long in the world of influencer marketing.

Yes, the design is lively, but the dishes march to a familiar beat if you’re familiar with Nordic restaurant cuisine. I realise it may sound odd to call a caramelised cheese spread with liquorice and blueberries “familiar” but in Iceland, it kind of is. Similarly, the execution is inconsistent in their seasoning and approach, some too delicate and others lean too hard into old world haute cuisine.

Sól is well worth the visit if you’re in the area, just not quite a destination experience. Yet.