A Field Guide to Icelandic Liquorice
There is a specific moment, usually in a petrol station somewhere between Reykjavík and the airport, when a visitor is handed a piece of chocolate, bites into it, and discovers salted liquorice for the first time.
The reaction goes one of two ways and there is almost no middle ground.
What salt liquorice actually is
Liquorice sweetened and then dosed with ammonium chloride — salmíak. It's the ammonium chloride, not sodium chloride, that produces the sharp, numbing, slightly medicinal edge. It reads as "salty" to most palates but it isn't the same salt that's on your table.
Northern Europe eats it. The Netherlands, Denmark, Finland, Sweden, Iceland. Almost nowhere else does, which is why the reaction outside that band is so consistent.
Iceland's addition: put chocolate on it
This is the part that's genuinely Icelandic. Salted liquorice exists across the Nordics; coating it in milk chocolate and selling it as a mainstream confectionery category is something Iceland does harder than anyone.
The combination works because the chocolate softens the ammonium edge for the first second and then gets out of the way. Sweet, then sharp, then salt. If you've only had salt liquorice plain and hated it, the chocolate version is a different experience and worth one more attempt.
Where to start
If you're new: something where the liquorice arrives in small pieces suspended in chocolate rather than as the main body. Þristur by Sambó — a 250g bag, $9.99 — is the standard recommendation and the standard first purchase. Eitt Sett bites from Nói Síríus, $9.99, do the same job in a different shape.
If you want to try several at once: the Appolo assortment box from Góa, 350g for $12.99, is the most efficient way to find out what you actually like. It's also the thing to send someone who has never been.
If you already like Dutch or Danish liquorice: go straight to the harder end. Gammeldags Lakkrís from Sambó — old-fashioned, 350g, $11.99 — or the Opal pastilles at $6.49, which are drier and sharper than anything with chocolate on it.
If you liked it soft and sweet: Appolo laces with marzipan, $6.99, or Bingó Kúlur — liquorice toffee balls from Góa, $8.99.
For baking or scattering over things: Síríus Lakkrískurl, chocolate liquorice pieces, $7.49. Icelanders put these on ice cream and into cakes and it is not a novelty use.
The producers
Góa is the largest presence on our shelves — twenty-three products — and makes the widest range, from the Appolo boxes to the toffee balls.
Nói Síríus has been making chocolate in Reykjavík for over a century and is the closest thing Iceland has to a default. Their bars are what's in every shop and most kitchen drawers.
Sambó and Freyja are the other two names worth knowing. Icelanders have opinions about which they prefer, and those opinions tend to track which one was in the house when they were children.
The bag that lasts about a day
Iceland has a strong pick-and-mix culture. Saturday is traditionally the day children were allowed sweets, and nammidagur still shapes how families shop. Loose sweets by weight, mixed to order, eaten in one sitting.
We can't ship a pick-and-mix bag in any state you'd want to receive it. What we can do is send the bags and boxes and let you build your own version. Most orders that include one bag include four.
A note on the reaction videos
If you're planning to film someone trying this for the first time, film the second bite rather than the first. The first bite is surprise. The second is the actual verdict, and it's a better piece of footage.
Browse the liquorice collection — nineteen products, from $4.99. Or start with the Appolo assortment box, $12.99.