Recapping A Year Of Food Highs And Lows

2024 set the stage for what could be a defining 2025 for Iceland’s food and beverage industry

One of the things that is perhaps not talked about enough in this job is just how privileged and rewarding being a food writer is. Even at a time when global media has steadily disinvested from traditional print media and axed budgets for food writing, and stalwarts in the industry are retiring and leaving behind a vacuum that most people in the business agree cannot be filled by social media influencers, I am one of the lucky few who gets to continue to write about food and its impact on culture and society.

As traditional media cedes power to social media influencers and the democratisation of tastemakers seems to be complete, there are still those that cherish, invest and nourish food writing. Helen Rosner is still going strong at the New Yorker, and Pete Wells has paved the way for Priya Krishna and Melissa Clark at NYT.

Unlike our global counterparts, food in general has never really been taken seriously in Iceland. This is obvious in our food laws; in the gaps between the hospitality industry, and agriculture and animal husbandry; in the chasms between tourism, business and cultural ministries; and in the alarming lack of understanding that planning regulations and health department stipulations have a large impact on the quality of urban life citizens get to enjoy and experience.

Barring the Grapevine, who for the past 21 years have dedicated food coverage, local media still treats food writing as a PR jaunt. “Recipes” that barely conceal industry sponsored posts calling for 450gm of cream cheese to make two litres of soup are still rampant. As tastemakers, food writers play an influential role in shaping culture. Sure, there is the supposed glamour of incessant eating out and a life that seems, from afar, like one most people would want to swap places for. For me it has been the sheer pleasure of meeting people and swapping stories over a shared love for food.

And when it comes to the food, there is, fortunately, more good food than bad. Although, if I am being honest with myself and you, dear reader, it has been a year where both creativity and consistency seemed to be in short supply. In a year where eating out was especially taxing on the wallet, every meh meal felt like a stinging slap of a reminder that dining out is a gamble often not worth taking.

The old horses continued to show up the younger ones, teaching everyone exactly why they are the big guns in the industry. They also underscore two key ingredients in the secret recipe for success in the food industry: consistency and perseverance.

“‘Recipes’ that barely conceal industry sponsored posts calling for 450gm of cream cheese to make two litres of soup are still rampant.”

Having finally shaken off pandemic blues and loan woes, buoyed by predictions of a stable economy, only to be squashed by rising cost of living, inflation and wage battles that have hurt everyone, the dining landscape echoed the highs and lows of life this past year. Not that it mattered to self-appointed “experts” on social media who are happy to declare most everything the “best,” as they wax eloquent about the eggs benedict that clearly shows broken hollandaise on hulking sourdough toasts.

So let’s break it down and wrap up the highlights and lowlights of 2024, shall we? We may just get a glimpse of the months ahead in doing so.

SVEIT, Virðing and Efling

In what is bound to be a battle of epic proportions, the end of the year saw some spectacular back and forth between Efling, one of Iceland’s largest unions; SVEIT, the association of restaurant owners; and a new labour union Virðing. This is a fight that was a long time coming, and one that will continue to play out in early 2025.

The restaurant business has largely been unorganised in terms of representation as an industry with collective bargain rights. In an attempt to remedy that, SVEIT was formed around the time covid struck.

Efling has been aggressive in their tactics recently, going so far as to have mini vans with slogans stuck on the sides, parked outside restaurants accused of wage theft, discouraging potential diners from patronising them.

In a country that sees record high participation in labour unions compared to our Nordic neighbours, early months of the year are a suspense show where industries, unions and the government clash over what is now an annually recurring saga of wage negotiations that never seem to work out. It wouldn’t be amiss to note that there is a wedge of mistrust between the parties.

What should be noted here, however, is that the labour union stipulations massively impact the nature of the business, with far-reaching consequences that are rarely limited to the industry alone. Take, for instance, the current system of work hours and overtime schedules: overtime starts at 17:00, with an additional percentage of hourly wages to be paid on the base rate. These figures climb further on weekends.

A direct consequence of this? Early closures of cafes and coffeehouses that has deepened the dearth of places one can socialise between work and dinner is palpably felt across the city. By comparison, Denmark and Sweden both have overtime after 20:00 on weekdays, and after 16:00 on Saturdays. So if you were wondering why places started to close as early as 15:30 in some cases, now you know.

This is a developing story that has seen everything from back and forth retaliations in the form of articles and statements in the local dailies, to SMSs, emails, team visits disrupting work shifts, claims of bogus entities, counterclaims of intimidation and harassment, all making for a nail-biting spectacle.

Closures

Nothing like ripping off the bandaid, eh?

Nebraska, the clothing store-slash-restaurant, is now shuttered, resting that rumour mill that had been expecting this news for the better part of 2024. Hygge Microbakery will now take its place and from the looks of it, an early 2025 opening is in the cards.

Embroiled in controversy and allegations of wage theft, Italia has shuttered doors, swiftly ending its revival in a new location. Who can forget the Efling van that shamed both the restaurant and potential diners if they dared patronise Italia? Seafood restaurant Mar is now scheduled to open in its stead.

Beloved Sono Matseljur bowed out of the Nordic House, ending their mezze-inspired vegan reign as one of the city’s best kept secrets. Plantan will take over the reins of the picturesque restaurant in the storied house.

Valkyrie, the pet friendly vegan bistro in Skipholt, joins Ruby Tuesday and other predecessors at the same location in shuttering. A corner location in a predominantly residential neighbourhood should work on paper, but let’s see if the next concept manages to break the curse.

Not yet a closure, but 2025 will be Slippurinn’s swansong year. Chef Gísli Matthías Auðunsson is keeping his cards close to his vest about what’s next, but promises a year to remember. Bookings are now open for the summer and, if I were you, I’d reserve a table for each month they are open, in order to do justice to their seasonal menu.

Memorable moments

Some of my favourite dining memories happened in the quiet unexpected moments where no promises were made and no expectations weighed down an encounter.

As I shared a juicy steamed bao of ground lamb, the musky sharpness of grassy cumin jolted me to attention that this is no ordinary bao — the playful use of cumin lamb, a roasted on a stick/skewer classic, but tucked into a steamed bun as filling, remains one of my favourite bites of the year. Dr. Bao, where Kasbah once was, is home to these baos. And whilst the food was lovely – special shout out to their sauce table – it was that down to earth hospitality of SE Asian mom and pop spots that continues to draw me in.

Dill reopened after a brief renovation hiatus, and the eye watering expense of Michelin dining notwithstanding, the non-alcholic pairing was especially striking. In lieu of tart kombuchas that often verge on vinegar, sommelier Ben Boorman has reigned in that funkiness, instead shining light on koji ferments from Muri, and house brews that taste like the landscape.

Austurindia’s 30th anniversary menu had me firmly in its grip and I happily rode that wave of nostalgia and excitement. The lamb sheekh kebab is a core memory by now, but really, it was the joy of sharing my love for this food with friends and family that made it even more memorable.

Tjörushúsið’s pepper rich plokkfiskur seems straightforward, but my repeated attempts to find  comparable competition makes each of its appearances on their buffet table extra special.

Skál’s opening party at their new location had some of their best food yet — the warm loaf of garlic herb bread that was pure jade from its lascivious stuffing, the sole with blanquette, their spring-in-a-salad gem salad is a memory that shines bright — especially when contrasted with the bumped prices and shrinking portions lately.

Mathöll mania and other trends

There is perhaps a secret global competition for most mathölls per capita underway in Iceland. The mania shows no signs of slowing down, as even if one dies, another seems to have already taken its place.

You know the fevered frenzy has reached its peak when even Keflavik airport has a “main food street” Aðalstræti, in its midst where you cannot escape the clutches of cookie-cutter mania. Why go to a new mathöll, when you can experience 12 at once?! Akureyri has Iðunn Mathöll now, and the new ownership is betrayed by the absence of Yuzu or Flatey in the roster.

Smáralind is playing naughty and teasing us with their lavish renderings of a “restaurant area” scheduled to open at the end of the year, with 13 new establishments. They promise that each one will be a never before seen concept, cuisine and execution that will remain true to its roots and claims and that it is most definitely not a mathöll. Okay I made up those last bits, but one can hope.

“There is perhaps a secret global competition for most mathölls per capita underway in Iceland.”

Brixton is an Icelandic restaurant named after a British neighbourhood, serving American inspired sliders is yet another reminder that we love to revive dead trends from the past. This time with the 1920 and then 2009 chart topper making a comeback.

Ramen Momo opened a new location with generous seating but a harried hold-the-table system where you first have to order and pay to get a seat making for amusing encounters between guests and staff.

Wolt’s Spotify-inspired “Wrapped” for the year shows us what we have always known: the burger is the king of all foods, and that we will have fried chicken on top of fried chicken every chance we get. The highlights were a national-shame-laid-bare factoid that Icelanders are the least organised diners with the lowest pre-orders and our obsession with convenience and questionable judgement skills were both indisputable with one order — a burger that was delivered over a two metre distance, or as Veitingageirinn helpfully measured out, 20 burgers laid side by side.

Looking ahead

2025 will be pivotal in how the hospitality industry will be viewed, shaped and taken care of. A healthy, vibrant, robust urban life isn’t just made of streets, buildings and the spaces within. It takes a concerted effort where seemingly disparate things come together to create that perfect slice of life.

The ability to walk to a bakery for an early morning loaf of bread, grab a working lunch at your local cafe, read a book or catch up with a friend over hot chocolate or coffee, drinks with colleagues after work, hobnob and giggle over dinner, is not happenstance. Regulatory frameworks, policies and regulations have an enduring impact on how we live, where we eat, and quality of culture the city can claim as its own.

Here’s hoping that this maker of memories industry will be supported to grow from strength to strength in this new year. Skál!