Reykjavik is where most Icelandic adventures begin, a compact, colourful city where cosmopolitan creativity meets the raw, powerful landscapes of the far north. Located in the country’s relatively mild south-west corner, it’s the perfect launchpad for road trips into Iceland’s cinematic landscapes – silver-threaded waterfalls, groaning glaciers and steaming lava plains that stretch towards the horizon – but deserves far more than a cursory overnight stay. This is a capital that leads with quiet assurance, rich in culture and grounded in design. Come August and September, the days are still long, the light golden and the city does all it can to capture the last of the summer. Galleries hum, performances spill into the streets and restaurants turn late-summer produce into bold, seasonal menus.
Once little more than a fishing village, Reykjavik has reinvented itself over the past century. Settled by Norsemen in the 9th century, the island’s early residents endured long winters, harsh terrain and, eventually, Danish colonial rule. Tough volcanic soils, the country’s isolation and trade restrictions imposed by the Danes forced Icelanders to be resourceful; for generations, their diet was dominated by all things pickled, salted, cured and fermented. But following independence in 1944 and a wave of post-war prosperity, Iceland opened up. As the inhabitants began to travel abroad, they returned with new flavours, ideas and a hunger to innovate.
Since then, Reykjavik has quietly evolved into one of Europe’s most exciting culinary cities. Chefs here draw on native ingredients – wild herbs, Arctic fish, foraged berries – but aren’t afraid to experiment with global methods. Think dishes like langoustine with fermented rhubarb or smoked lamb with miso. Reykjavik’s dining scene mirrors the outlook of Icelanders: a strong commitment to traditions but open to the world.