What to Eat in Iceland

Iceland’s cuisine grew from an austere North Atlantic landscape, where cold seas and thin volcanic soils shaped what people could raise and preserve. Long winters favored hardy sheep, dairy, and abundant fish, while geothermal heat offered rare help in cooking and, later, greenhouse growing.

Meals emphasize simple techniques, seasonal resourcefulness, and respect for ingredients gathered close to home. Salting, drying, and fermentation still inform taste, yet fresh fish and lamb define daily plates. Bread, porridges, and dairy anchor the table, with coffee and cakes closing many gatherings.

Plokkfiskur is a home-style casserole that turns boiled cod or haddock and floury potatoes into a cohesive, comforting meal. Cooked fish is gently flaked and folded into a simple onion-scented béchamel made with butter, flour, and milk, then enriched with a knob of butter and sometimes a splash of fish stock; the potatoes are mashed in, yielding a spoonable texture with distinct flakes of fish suspended in a creamy sauce. The flavor is mild, briny-sweet from the fish, with soft onions and pepper supplying warmth, designed to be eaten in generous portions rather than fussed over. It is weekday fare across the country, common in homes and canteens year‑round, traditionally served hot with thick slices of dark bread and cold butter, and appreciated as a way to use leftover fish from the previous day.

Kjötsúpa is a clear lamb soup built from bony cuts such as shoulder, shank, or neck, simmered slowly until the broth turns aromatic and the meat slips tender from the bone. Root vegetables—carrots, potatoes, and rutabaga—go in alongside onions, with salt, pepper, and occasionally a handful of rolled oats or barley to thicken the cooking liquor slightly. The result is a light but full-bodied soup with a clean lamb aroma, soft vegetables, and a gentle sweetness from long cooking, eaten in steaming bowls on cold days. It is closely tied to the autumn sheep round‑ups, when fresh lamb fills larders; community events, sports clubs, and family tables serve it throughout fall and winter as a warming, economical one‑pot meal. Leftovers are reheated the next day, often tasting richer after a night’s rest.

Skyr is a cultured dairy product with the thickness of a fresh cheese but eaten like yogurt, made by warming skimmed milk, inoculating it with a starter from a previous batch, then straining the curds until very dense. The technique dates to the settlement era and appears in medieval sources, and the modern product retains the mild lactic tang, high protein, and clean finish that Icelanders prize. Its texture is spoon‑standingly thick yet smooth, with barely any fat and a delicate aroma of fresh milk; it accepts toppings without collapsing. Traditionally it is served plain with cold cream and sugar, or mixed with berries such as bilberries and crowberries; today it appears at breakfast, as a snack after swimming, or as a simple dessert. It also finds its way into cakes and cold puddings, where its acidity keeps sweetness in check without heavy richness.

Hákarl is fermented shark, produced from the large Arctic sleeper shark whose fresh flesh contains compounds that are unsafe to eat until broken down by time and controlled spoilage. Traditionally the gutted carcass is pressed and set to drain, then buried or placed in ventilated boxes for weeks to leach fluids and ferment, before being hung in a drying shed for several months; once matured, the brown surface is cut away to reveal ivory cubes. The aroma is powerful, ammoniac and marine, while the bite is firm and slightly waxy; most people take small pieces, letting the nose acclimate before chewing. Hákarl appears as part of þorramatur, the midwinter spread served during Þorrablót, and is offered at family gatherings and cultural events rather than daily meals. It is commonly chased with a sip of brennivín, the local caraway spirit, though the pairing is ritual more than necessity.

Rúgbrauð is a dark, sweet rye bread historically steamed in the ground using geothermal heat, a method that produces an almost crustless loaf with a moist, tight crumb. The dough is typically rye‑forward, often with a little wheat flour, leavened with baking soda and sweetened with molasses or sugar, then set in a covered pot or tin to bake low and slow; in geothermal zones, the vessel is buried near hot springs for a day. The flavor is malty and gently sweet, with a hint of caramel from long, moist cooking, and slices hold together in generous slabs. Rúgbrauð accompanies fish meals and cold cuts year‑round, spread thickly with butter, and also appears on festive tables alongside pickled herring or smoked lamb. Many households now replicate the style in an oven or water bath, preserving the distinctive texture even far from hot springs.

Icelandic food balances preservation wisdom with clean, modern flavors, leaning on superb fish, lamb, and distinctive dairy shaped by climate and geology. Geothermal energy, short growing windows, and a culture of thrift yield dishes that are straightforward yet memorable across the island. For deeper context, seasonal planning tools, and more culinary guides, explore the food features and destination insights available on Sunheron.com.