Ooh, look at those coffee cup marks! I have some other menus with that on there, from enjoying a meal so much that I spill on my placemat menu. But wait... this wasn't a placemat... those marks are actually printed on the menu itself... Oh Tiu Dropar, what am I going to do with you?
I guess this whole restaurant had questionable authenticity, but I loved it anyway. Iceland is questionable already- I mean, is it part of the EU? Is it its own continent? Is it covered in ice, or what? No, no, no. But do they have great waffles? Yes.
We tromped on down here in the darkness of a 9am winter morning, after being told by two sources to get waffles at (a) the bottom of the hill and (b) at the bottom of the steps. So we found Tiu Dropar, with the aid of a huge sign that promised *something* in Icelandic and a tiny sign that promised "fresh waffles" in English. We descended the steps to a classic tearoom interior, with modest crystal chandeliers and kettles decorating the walls. It looked like it had been a tearoom for decades, but it had a hipness about it that suggested it was a recent ploy to attract the likes of us tourists who love that sort of thing. It worked. We settled into a cozy table next to a window that opened up to the sidewalk above to watch passing footwear, and waited for our food.
We only checked the breakfast menu, which was on the wall near the register- then later we found the other offerings at our table. But we really had all we needed to order- I was sold at "Vaffla med beikoni". Perhaps you don't know about my waffle obsession*. I always want to get them, ever since I had the best of my life in Brussels, Belgium. But I've been forever disappointed since those originals, even by waffles in Bruges, and (gasp) New York. And they also make my blood sugar shoot through the roof, so I need me some protein with them. Enter Tiu's Waffles+Bacon. I ate the waffle with my hands, breaking off squares and splitting them in half lengthwise to make bacon sandwiches, then dipping those in syrup. Can't say it did much for my blood sugar problem, but I really didn't have to eat again until like 4 in the afternoon, right as the sun was going down again.
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*I have tried several times, unsuccessfully, to get a tattoo of a waffle. Artists explain that it will look terrible, unless I get a very large tattoo of a waffle, which will itself look very ridiculous, because it is a waffle. If someday I do succeed at this tattoo operation, I will coerce C (of Viajante and Dinner fame) to accompany me and get one of her own; we have a pact.
 |
| Menus like this make me think I can almost read Icelandic. But later I realize it's really hard. Not enough vowels. (See Children's Hot Chocolate) |
I guess this whole restaurant had questionable authenticity, but I loved it anyway. Iceland is questionable already- I mean, is it part of the EU? Is it its own continent? Is it covered in ice, or what? No, no, no. But do they have great waffles? Yes.
We tromped on down here in the darkness of a 9am winter morning, after being told by two sources to get waffles at (a) the bottom of the hill and (b) at the bottom of the steps. So we found Tiu Dropar, with the aid of a huge sign that promised *something* in Icelandic and a tiny sign that promised "fresh waffles" in English. We descended the steps to a classic tearoom interior, with modest crystal chandeliers and kettles decorating the walls. It looked like it had been a tearoom for decades, but it had a hipness about it that suggested it was a recent ploy to attract the likes of us tourists who love that sort of thing. It worked. We settled into a cozy table next to a window that opened up to the sidewalk above to watch passing footwear, and waited for our food.
 |
| Pictures of food make me hungry for food. |
We only checked the breakfast menu, which was on the wall near the register- then later we found the other offerings at our table. But we really had all we needed to order- I was sold at "Vaffla med beikoni". Perhaps you don't know about my waffle obsession*. I always want to get them, ever since I had the best of my life in Brussels, Belgium. But I've been forever disappointed since those originals, even by waffles in Bruges, and (gasp) New York. And they also make my blood sugar shoot through the roof, so I need me some protein with them. Enter Tiu's Waffles+Bacon. I ate the waffle with my hands, breaking off squares and splitting them in half lengthwise to make bacon sandwiches, then dipping those in syrup. Can't say it did much for my blood sugar problem, but I really didn't have to eat again until like 4 in the afternoon, right as the sun was going down again.
=====
*I have tried several times, unsuccessfully, to get a tattoo of a waffle. Artists explain that it will look terrible, unless I get a very large tattoo of a waffle, which will itself look very ridiculous, because it is a waffle. If someday I do succeed at this tattoo operation, I will coerce C (of Viajante and Dinner fame) to accompany me and get one of her own; we have a pact.
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