The Icelandic hot dog: why a gas-station pylsa is a national institution

What makes the Icelandic hot dog different?

It’s the lamb. The Icelandic pylsa is a blend of lamb, pork and beef, but the lamb leads — it gives the sausage a slightly smoky, savoury edge and a firmer snap than the all-pork or all-beef franks most visitors know. It’s simmered or grilled and tucked into a soft, steamed bun.

The other half of the magic is the toppings, and there are five of them. Two onions: raw white onion for bite, and crunchy deep-fried onion for sweetness and texture. Then three sauces: ketchup, a sweet brown mustard called pylsusinnep, and remoulade, a mild mayonnaise-based sauce with a little relish in it. Together they’re the whole point.

One local aside: Icelanders will happily argue about whether it’s spelled pylsa or pulsa. Both are used, nobody wins, and it changes nothing about the sausage.

How do you order “eina með öllu”?

Walk up and say “eina með öllu” — roughly AY-na meth OTH-lu. It means “one with everything”, and it’s the order 90% of the queue in front of you just placed. You’ll get all five toppings, layered in the classic way: fried and raw onion in the bottom of the bun, the sausage on top, then ketchup, sweet mustard and remoulade streaked over it.

Want to change it? “Án” means without — so “án hrárs lauks” is without raw onion, a common ask for anyone who finds it sharp. But the honest local advice is to get it með öllu the first time. The combination is the tradition, and it works.

Where do you get one — Bæjarins Beztu, or the nearest petrol station?

The famous one is Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur — “the town’s best hot dogs” — a tiny red stand on Tryggvagata by Reykjavík’s old harbour, going since 1937. The Guardian once called it the best hot dog stand in Europe; Bill Clinton ate one here. There’s almost always a queue, and it’s a fair pilgrimage if you’re already downtown — see it alongside the rest of things to do in Reykjavík. Details and current price are on Visit Reykjavík.

Here’s the thing nobody tells you, though: you don’t need the famous stand. Almost every petrol station in the country — N1, Olís, Orkan — has a grill turning out the identical pylsa, frequently 24 hours a day. On a road trip, the grill at a random forecourt in the middle of nowhere is often the best-value hot meal for 100 km in any direction.

Why is it the budget traveller’s best friend?

Because Iceland is expensive and the pylsa is not. At a few hundred krónur, it’s dependably the cheapest hot meal you’ll find — a fraction of a sit-down restaurant plate, and available at any hour from a filling station. That’s why so many people surviving Iceland on a shoestring quietly live on them.

If you’re watching every króna, the hot dog belongs on the same list as tap water and the swimming pools — see Iceland on a budget. It’s also the most accessible bite in the whole local food scene: no reservation, no fuss, and it actually tastes of Iceland.

A couple of honest tips

• It’s a snack, not a meal. One pylsa is a satisfying stop-gap, not dinner. Hungry travellers order two, and nobody blinks.
• Skip the queue if it’s long. The line at Bæjarins Beztu can run 20–30 people deep in summer. The sausage is genuinely great, but it is the same sausage as the petrol station down the road — if you’re short on time, don’t wait for the postcard.
• Prices change. We won’t quote a number that’ll be wrong next season; check the stand’s board or the vendor’s own site for today’s price.

See also

• Iceland on a budget — where the cheap hot dog fits the wider survival kit
• Local food in Iceland — beyond the pylsa
• Things to do in Reykjavík — including the pilgrimage to Bæjarins Beztu