Inside an Icelandic Grocery Store (No, I Didn't See Any Horse Meat)

You want to know what the locals actually eat. So did I.

So between the horses and the mountains, I did the most ordinary thing a person can do in a foreign country. I went grocery shopping.

Here is northern Iceland, aisle by aisle.

The skyr situation

There is a whole wall of it. Not a shelf. A wall. Plain, vanilla, berry, drinkable, and the thick stuff you could stand a spoon up in. Skyr is not yogurt, and the locals will gently correct you if you call it that. It is thick, high in protein, and it has been fueling this country for a thousand years. It fueled me for about four days straight.

Licorice is a food group

Salty licorice. Licorice coated in chocolate. Licorice hiding inside things that had no business containing licorice. You will either love it or make a face your fellow shoppers have seen a hundred times before. I loved it. Mostly.

The bread that comes out of the ground

Rugbraud. Dense, dark, faintly sweet rye bread, traditionally baked using geothermal heat in the ground near hot springs. You read that right. The earth bakes the bread. Slather it with butter and good luck stopping.

The hot dog you have heard about

The pylsa. Lamb, pork, beef, and a genuine national obsession. Order it with everything and you get raw and crispy onions, ketchup, sweet brown mustard, and remoulade. It costs about the price of a coffee and it is better than most meals I have paid real money for.

A word on the prices

Iceland imports most of what it does not grow in a greenhouse or pull out of the sea. The bananas are grown with geothermal power, which is charming, but the produce aisle will still make your eyebrows climb. Buy the fish. Buy the lamb. Buy the skyr. Skip the imported strawberries unless you enjoy heartbreak.

Now the question everyone asks

You want to know. I know you want to know. When a horse person walks into an Icelandic grocery store, everyone waits for the same headline.

No. I did not see horse meat.

It exists here, it is part of the food history, and I am not here to lecture anyone's dinner. But I walked those aisles with six Icelandic horses waiting for me back home, and I can promise you my cart had other priorities. I came for skyr and I left with skyr. The herd would approve.

Watch the full walk-through below. Bring snacks. You will want them.

Boss Mare. She doesn't ask twice.