WOWair

Víga glúms saga “jól” is a time of festivities.
Consequently, it was a bit later in Ice -
land’s history that the social and cult ural
institutions that later became en trenc -
hed in Iceland, and the paradigm shift
from Yule to Christmas began; with the
building of churches and Christianity
becoming more organized here based on
the establishment of a diocese, Icelanders
stopped toasting the old gods and began
to celebrate the more recognizable form of
Christmas.
Still, as always, because Iceland was so
isolated it managed to keep many curious
aspects. One notable social pheno meno
n was that many Icelanders instead
of attending Christmas evening mass
de cided they’d rather visit friends, drink
and be merry. Apparently this infuriated
the Danish clergy who tried to uproot this
tradition but it became popular again in
the 20th century, especially with the in -
troduction of the radio.
Nowadays, shortly before 6 o’clock on
Christmas Eve, Icelandic families turn
on the National Radio and wait for the
bells of Hallgrímskirkja Church to peal
for Christ mas through a live broadcast.
This is, for many, when the holy days truly
begin and everyone wishes each other a
happy Christmas before they sit down for a
lavish Christmas dinner while listening to
a Christmas Mass.
Christmas dinner in the turf house
For Icelanders born in the 19th century
Christmas was a rather humble affair.
Most homes were centered around
the “baðstofa” which functioned both
as a sleeping room and as the hub of
communal living. If one reads personal
accounts of Icelanders and the Christmas
tra di tions, there is a noticeable com -
monality between all of them that is
crystalized in one of the most iconic
Ice landic Christmas songs “Bráðum koma
blessuð jólin” (“Soon the Christmastide
will be here”); in it Icelanders sing that
everybody receives a gift—at least some
playing cards and a candle.
To many youths today these lyrics come
off as enigmatic but to Icelanders back
then, the highlight of Christmas was when
one received a candle and the “baðstofa”
was lit up all night on Christmas Eve.
For the extremely lucky, an apple was a
rare delicacy that they were able to taste
once a year and only six or seven decades
ago many Icelanders’ most common
association with Christmas was the aroma
of apples. However, in some regions, not
all, it was common to make leaf bread
(see page 34) during Christmas Day along
with an assortment of delicacies such as
Icelandic pancakes and waffles. Other
treats included “pottabrauð” which is
a variant of the Icelandic straight rye
bread or “rúgbrauð.” As for the main meal
it was most commonly smoked lamb
meat which was made to last until the
New Year in many homes, while in others
“lundabaggar” or rolled-up slices of gela -
tinous meat or Icelandic sausages were
eaten. In some cases it was the economic
choice of fish. For dessert people would
eat skyr with cream or “sætsúpa” which is
basically fruit soup made of dried fruits
that have been boiled in water along with
some grains, either oats or rice.
Icelandic Christmas food during
the 20th century
Christmas culinary traditions of Iceland
began to evolve with more affluence and
with the migration of people to Reykjavík
and its surrounding municipalities. Meat
became more affordable for all and
gastronomical hedonism became the
norm; in recent years Icelandic Christmas
dinners have led numerous Icelanders
to seek out medical assistance due to
overconsumption on Christmas Eve.
However, the most noxious and in fa mous
Christmas dish is served on Þorláks -
messa (Mass of St. Thorlac), or the 23rd
of December. This tradition from the
West Fjords to eat fermented skate on
this day ceased to be a regional affair
and became, regrettably, a nationwide
custom. Why regrettable? Well, because
the sweet aroma of ammonia from the
skate is omnipresent. Further changes
to the Christmas culinary traditions here
happened due to the increasing influx of
Danish products; one such introduction
was the “hamborgarahryggur” or pork
rib steak as well as the “London lamb”
which was less smoked than its older
counterpart the “hangikjöt.” As for side
dishes most Icelanders become teary
eyed if the compulsory green peas and red
cabbage from the Icelandic Ora canned
goods factory are missing from the main
dish—although in many families this is
slowly being phased out.
It’s not Christmas without fruit,
here near the edge of the world
Besides all these gastronomic hedonistic
dishes that popped up during post bellum
years, Icelanders began to enjoy other
novel foods—like fruit. In fact, this year’s
Christmas will hopefully be the last where
Icelanders experience capital controls
but they’ve been a common practice from
the 20th century, thus making apples,
oranges and other foreign delicacies
an extravagant luxury as some years no
apples were imported at all. However,
during this period fishermen were able to
circumvent the capital controls by selling
cod roe to obtain foreign currency that in
turn enabled them to purchase apples and
grapes to give to their kin and friends. This
phenomena was known as “gotupeningar”
(roe money) and allowed many Icelandic
homes to celebrate Christmas with the
sought after luxury goods they considered
essential during the holidays.
The evil Santas are coming to town!
During the twentieth century the con -
temporary version of Christmas that most
Icelanders have come to love began to
be formalized. For example there were
various alterations of the Yule Lads and no
exact fixed number, with accounts of nine,
thirteen or even eighteen of them. It was
For the extremely
lucky, an apple was
a rare delicacy that
they were able to
taste once a year
and only six or
seven decades ago
many Icelanders’
most common
association with
Christmas was the
aroma of apples.
only due to the popularity of Jón Árnason’s
Icelandic Folktales and Legends that the
number became fixed to 13 along with
their current names, not to mention the
radio broadcasting of Árnason’s stories
during the 1930s.
In the old days the Yuletide lads were
the monstrous offspring of Grýla and
Leppalúði, and were considered evil just
as the Yule Cat was, being more canni -
balistic trolls than jolly tricksters. In
the famous Icelandic poem Grýlukvæði,
Stéfan Ólafsson wrote about their
mother who was a three-headed beast
akin to the mythological Cerberus, with
chin fuzz and a ram’s nose to boot. Like
with the Coca-Cola Santa Claus and the
Scandinavian Nisse, the Icelandic Yule
Lads have evolved from
their original
disposition
into more
Issue six 31