Reykjavík Grapevine - 08.11.2013, Side 12
Commerce | Inspired by America!
In the United States, autumn brings with
it a progression of increasingly gluttonous
holidays. We start digging in at Hallow-
een, loosen our belts for Thanksgiving,
and end, of course, with Christmas. But
while there’s no doubt that Icelanders
excel at Christmasing, the dearth of
fall-filler is problematic, at least from
a retail standpoint. Enter America
Days, a particularly successful example
of what Managing Director Gunnar
Ingi Sigurðsson calls “fun shopping.”
As American as...Icelandic beef
and doughnut burgers
When I met with Gunnar Ingi for a walk-
ing tour of America Days in the Smáralind
mall Hagkaup, the very first things he
wanted to show off were the doughnuts,
starting with the be-flagged self-serve
‘doughnut bar,’ which is plonked right
between the produce and meat sections.
This bar—more of a tower, really—was
such a huge success after America Days
last year that it is now a permanent instal-
ment. And the close proximity of dough-
nuts and meat counter was, I suppose,
bound to inspire one inevitable creation:
the doughnut burger. That is, a hamburg-
er patty sandwiched between two dough-
nuts instead of buns.
(Let me pause to say that a number
of Americans I spoke to were quick to
mock the dubious “American-ness” of a
doughnut burger. I certainly understand
the shame of having such a product as-
sociated with our bloated country, and
share it, but we must own that we are the
nation who brought the world the Double
Down: bacon and cheese sandwiched in
between two pieces of fried chicken. And
the doughnut burger is not just a figment
of the Icelandic imagination. ‘Luther
Burgers,’ possibly named in honour of
R&B singer Luther Vandross, often uti-
lise Krispy Kremes for buns and are sold
everywhere from Illinois baseball parks
to halal burger joints in Astoria, Queens.
If that isn’t bad enough, “Bacon Cronut
Burgers,” or cheeseburgers sandwiched
between two bacon-infused croissant-
doughnuts, also began sweeping the US
this fall. Our bad, world. Our bad.)
At Hagkaup, the standard pre-pack-
aged doughnut burger kit includes four
glazed doughnuts and two 120 gram
hamburger patties for 999 ISK (8.00
USD). This kit has proven to be a very
popular item, and features prominently
in store ads with the message “Add Ched-
dar cheese slices, bacon, and egg, and
you can’t get any more American.” Most
products sold during America Days are
specially imported from the US, but Hag-
kaup puts these bad boys together them-
selves. They’re just regular Icelandic beef
hamburgers, Gunnar Ingi admits, just as
the pre-marinated Buffalo chicken, and
the aged “Western” beef are also Icelandic
products. But Hagkaup is able to “make
it all American” by putting a Stars and
Stripes sticker that says ‘US!’ on the front.
Forbidden sweets
The import process is a difficult one on
both sides of customs. On the American
side, the problems often come down to
high prices and low quantities. “We used
to import a brand of organics from Clint
Eastwood’s town [Earthbound, from Car-
mel-by-the-Sea, California],” says Gunnar
Ingi, but rising quotas and export fees
forced Hagkaup to stop purchasing these
products. “They didn’t want to enlarge the
cake,” he said. “They just wanted to pro-
tect the domestic salad.” Similarly, Hag-
kaup has often found it difficult to test
new American products in their stores
because American companies can’t be
bothered with small export orders. “We
call to order a new item, and they ask us
how much we want to buy,” Gunnar Ingi
says. “We say, ‘maybe a pallet?’ and then
it’s like they stop speaking English.”
While pointing out various American
delicacies on offer—such as his personal
favourite, Jack Daniels mustard, which
retails at 499 ISK (4 USD) and whole,
frozen lobsters from Maine (1,999 ISK,
17 USD)—Gunnar Ingi also explains
that many American products cannot be
imported because they do not meet the
health and nutrition standards imposed
by the European Economic Area, whose
guidelines Iceland follows. Each foreign
product must be stickered with nutrition-
al information in Icelandic, and a health
inspector is sent to ensure that nothing
being sold contains any forbidden ingre-
dients. Gunnar Ingi sighs when recalling
the “special” Cocoa Puffs Hagkaup had
to start selling in 2012. These were made
with a new recipe for the European mar-
ket: less sugar, less salt, less fat. He shakes
his head at the memory—“they really
weren’t as good.” (He’s not alone in this
opinion: although the “old” Cocoa Puffs
can be sold in Iceland again, you can still
find Facebook pages dedicated to “Legal-
izing Cocoa Puffs” from those dark, mar-
ginally less sweetened days.)
We continue on our goodie circuit,
passing baskets of Hooter’s brand hot
sauce, Cracker Jacks, Kool-Aid mix,
canned cranberry sauce, and Tostito’s
spinach dip (another employee favourite)
before arriving at the holy grail: a Cheese-
cake Factory cheesecake sampler which
retails at 4,498 ISK, or 37 USD. “It’s...not
cheap,” Gunnar Ingi says. “But it isn’t for
every day.”
Finally, Tab!
“There’s an awful lot of junk food,” I say
sheepishly as we continue, passing Betty
Crocker cake mixes, Pop Tarts, and Red
Velvet cakes, which have been specially
created by local bakeries for the occasion.
I mean it as a self-deprecation about my
home country, but Gunnar Ingi bristles a
little—he’s obviously heard similar com-
ments before. People complain about kids
coming in any buying lots of candy, he
says, but better that than going downtown
and buying lots of beer. He also points
out that Hagkaup has a large, and grow-
ing, selection of organic and health food
products, and points to boxes of gluten-
free quinoa spaghetti (779 ISK, 6 USD)
as examples of less junky offerings. And,
he says, brightening a little, there are also
the Zevia sodas—Stevia-sweetened and
calorie-free, straight from the West Coast.
“Typical California.”
Indeed there is an astounding variety
of American sodas in the case in front
of us—at least a dozen varieties of Ze-
via, “Throwback” Pepsi (made with real
sugar), Mello Yello, A&W Root Beer,
Canada Dry Ginger Ale, Minute Maid
Lemonade and even Tab. (The store ad
exhibits the selection with the message,
“Finally, Tab!”) The sodas are probably
the most popular America Days items,
Gunnar Ingi says. At 159 ISK, or just
over 1 USD a can, people can try many
different kinds without spending a lot of
money. Unsurprisingly, these were the
America Days items which sold the best
during the crash years.
Fun shopping
Taking in all the flags, and “American-
ness” around me, I ask if the promotion is
meant to be a tribute, or maybe a parody.
Such is the nature of American nation-
alism and branding, I guess, that ironic
patriotism and sincere patriotism appear
basically identical. Gunnar Ingi smiles at
the question before brushing it off entire-
ly, as though I’m thinking a bit too hard.
“No, no,” he says with a laugh. “It’s just
fun shopping.”
For the last few years, visitors to the Icelandic grocery chain Hagkaup have been met by a trio
of unusually high profile greeters. Surrounded by enough American flags to trick out a NASCAR
rally on the 4th of July, Elvis, John Wayne, and Barack Obama—the latter of whom often sports
an “employee-in-training” button—invite visitors to help themselves to shimmering pyramids of
Twizzlers, cheese puffs, and peanut butter M&Ms. Not to be outdone, Lady Liberty lights the way
to overflowing buckets of pretzel sticks, Jello mix, and marshmallow fluff. Welcome to America
Days: help yourself to some high fructose corn syrup.
12The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 17 — 2013
“I certainly under-
stand the shame of
having such a prod-
uct associated with
our bloated country,
and share it, but we
must own that we
are the nation who
brought the world
the Double Down.”
America Daze
Hagkaup brings Iceland the best
(and worst) of America
— Larissa Kyzer
Nanna Dís