Kaffivagninn is an icelandic restaurant in 101 Grandi, Reykjavik.
Kaffivagninn on Grandagardur has fed harbour workers since 1935, billed as Iceland's oldest restaurant, where the catch of the day is the meal in Reykjavik.
Why locals love it: Billed as Iceland's oldest restaurant, this 1935 harbour canteen sits among working docks where fishermen, not tourists, fill the tables for the day's catch.
Tip: The catch of the day, eaten where the fishermen eat, is the order. Open from 08:00 by the water.
Address: Grandagardur 10, 101 Reykjavik
Why locals love it: A green shack among the harbour sheds with barrels for seats, it looks like nothing, yet inside is the langoustine soup travellers cross the city to find.
Tip: Seating is communal on barrels and benches. The langoustine soup with bread is the only order you need.
Why locals love it: Down in the old west-end harbour streets rather than on Laugavegur, this small-plates room rewards anyone who wanders a few blocks off the tourist spine.
Tip: Build a meal from four or five starters. The harbourside location keeps it quieter than the centre.
Why locals love it: It hides above the Hverfisgata 12 pizza-and-bar building, a Michelin-listed kitchen rewriting its globe-trotting menu weekly that many visitors walk straight past.
Tip: The menu changes every week, so no two meals match. Book ahead, the room is genuinely small.
Why locals love it: Easy to miss behind a plain Laugavegur door, this natural-wine bar pours funky bottles with serious small plates that locals guard as their after-work spot.
Tip: The kitchen punches above a wine bar's weight; the halibut and burnt broccoli are worth ordering.
Why locals love it: Entry is through Sumac with no sign of its own, an eleven-seat Michelin-starred counter that the crowds streaming past on Laugavegur never realise is there.
Tip: You book weeks ahead and enter through the Sumac grill. Two seatings a night, eleven seats only.
Why locals love it: A green shack among the harbour sheds with barrels for seats, it looks like nothing, yet inside is the langoustine soup travellers cross the city to find.
Tip: Seating is communal on barrels and benches. The langoustine soup with bread is the only order you need.
Why locals love it: A quiet daytime cafe that flips at five into a natural-wine bar paired with oysters and charcuterie, often missed for the bigger-name wine rooms on the same street.
Tip: Tue-Sun from 17:00 for the wine-bar shift. Burrata with romesco is the order alongside the natural pours.
