By now, undoubtedly, you’ve seen my post last Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 23 — is the day when the twelfth Yule Lad arrives.

The twelfth Yule Lad’s name is Ketkrókur, which translates as Meat-Hook. His particular brand of mischief is using a hook to steal meat.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

Meat Hook, the twelfth one,
his talent would display
as soon as he arrived
on Saint Thorlak’s Day.
He snagged himself a morsel
of meat of any sort,
although his hook at times was
a tiny bit short.

Meat-Hook arrives each year on December 23, and leaves again on January 5.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, from Iceland24:

Meat Hooker, the twelfth one,
Knew a thing or two.
-He marched into the country
On St. Thorlak’s Day.

He hooked a bit of meat
Whenever he could.
But often a little short
was at times his staff.

Another Yule Lad, another story of gluttony. Oh boy, aren’t these dudes a little repetitive? This time is Ketkrókur’s (Meat Hook) turn. He comes down from the mountains on December 23, Saint Thorlak’s Day.

Ketkrókur is cunning and resourceful, even for the Lads’ already high standards of cunning and resourcefulness. What Ketkrókur does better than any other is “fishing” the traditional smoked lamb with a hooked pole.

He’s the tallest of the brothers. That cross of troll, elf and human ancestry gave him a very long and rather stiff pair of legs. Legend says he walks as though they were made of wood, and he has to use a long walking stick to be able to walk properly.

His favorite strategy consists in lowering his hook through the kitchen chimney. He can steal heaps of this Icelandic delicacy using this peculiar technique. If you have no chimney is your festive dinner safe then, you’ll ask? I don’t honestly know.

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

Hopefully, by now, you’ve seen my post last Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 22 — is the day when the eleventh Yule Lad arrives.

The eleventh Yule Lad’s name is Gáttaþefur, which translates as Doorway-Sniffer. He has an abnormally large nose, and his particular brand of mischief is an acute sense of smell which he uses to locate leaf bread (laufabrauð), which “is a traditional kind of Icelandic bread that is most often eaten in the Christmas season. Originating from northern Iceland but now eaten throughout the country, it consists of round, very thin flat cakes with a diameter of about 15 to 20 cm (6 to 8 inches), decorated with leaf-like, geometric patterns and fried briefly in hot fat or oil.” It’s also called snowflake bread.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

Eleventh was Door Sniffer,
a doltish lad and gross.
He never got a cold, yet had
a huge, sensitive nose.
He caught the scent of lace bread
while leagues away still
and ran toward it weightless
as wind over dale and hill.

Doorway-Sniffer arrives each year on December 22, and leaves again on January 4.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, from Iceland24:

Eleventh was Doorway Sniffer
– Who never had a cold,
Even though he had a funny
And enormous nose.

The scent of Leaf Bread
He smelled in the hills,
And lightly, like the smoke,
He followed that scent.

Gáttaþefur (Door Sniffer) is a big-nosed fellow that, instead of developing a nose complex and turning to rhinoplasty, used his protuberance to his own advantage.

Gáttaþefur ‘s nose not only is noticeable enough to make any Cirano look like a mere amateur, but it is also extremely sensitive: this dude can smell Christmas delicacies as accurately as a truffle hog. But Gáttaþefur doesn’t care much for truffles. He prefers laufabrauð (the traditional Icelandic bread that is eaten during the Christmas period), cookies and cakes. And of course when he finds something edible he likes, he doesn’t content himself with the smell…

Gáttaþefur will be around sniffing on the night of December 22. Be sure to lock all your cookies in a safe if you don’t intend to eat them all before this darling arrives.

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

Hopefully, by now, you’ve seen my post last Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 21 — is the day when the tenth Yule Lad arrives.

The tenth Yule Lad’s name is Gluggagægir, which translates as Window-Peeper. His particular brand of mischief is being snoop who looks through windows in search of things to steal.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

The tenth was Window Peeper,
a weird little twit,
who stepped up to the window
and stole a peek through it.
And whatever was inside
to which his eye was drawn,
he most likely attempted
to take later on.

Window-Peeper arrives each year on December 21, and leaves again on January 3.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, from Iceland24:

Tenth was Window Peeper
A grumpy lad,
Who sneaked to the window
And looked through it.

If anything was inside
Nice to look at,
He usually later
Tried to get that.

Gluggagægir (Window Peeper) is the tenth Yule Lad in the list. He’s one of my faves too. Maybe he actually is the Lad I like the most.

The Window Peeper is a classic figure in literature, music and cinema. If you don’t like the classic window peeper’s approach, just think about James Stewart in Rear Window, but reversed.

There are many elements at play when this kind of characters are involved so I can safely say Gluggagægir is the Lad with more potential: with a little of invention you could have a whole series of Christmas thrillers or horrors made after him.

Some consider Gluggagægir just a very nosy guy, but completely harmless – although he does like to steal when something he sees arouses his fancy. Some others prefer to add a sinister aura to his curiosity, describing him as a hardcore voyeur…

Whatever the truth, you are now aware of his habit of peeping through windows at night. So, unless you’re OK with it, maybe you’ll feel more comfortable drawing your curtains on December 21.

So, this guy may be looking in your window between Dec 21 and Jan 3, so give him a friendly wave and wish him Gleðileg Jól (Happy Holidays)

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

Hopefully, by now, you’ve seen my post last Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 20 — is the day when the ninth Yule Lad arrives.

The ninth Yule Lad’s name is Bjúgnakrækir, which translates as Sausage-Swiper. His particular brand of mischief is hiding in the rafters so he can snatch the sausages that are being smoked.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

The ninth was Sausage Swiper,
a shifty pilferer.
He climbed up to the rafters
and raided food from there.
Sitting on a crossbeam
in soot and in smoke,
he fed himself on sausage
fit for gentlefolk.

Sausage-Stealer arrives each year on December 20, and leaves again on January 2.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, by Robert Nelson, on Medium.

Bjúgnakrækir, or Sausage-Swiper, probably has the most lucrative job of the thirteen Yule Lads. He’ll make his way up to your rafters, possibly above the fireplace where his waiting gets him all tarnished in ash and soot (excuse the cross-referencing). From there, he’ll find a moment to make away with your sausage. The calorie-rich reward probably sustains him for longer than the simple bowl- or spoon-lickers of the group.

The sausage in question is an Icelandic “delicacy” called the bjuga, from which the Bjúgnakrækir derives his name. It’s usually made of smoked lamb meat, sometimes combined with horse- and or pork as well. Valur Grettison has done a nice write-up of the bjuga for the Reykjavik Grapevine, and concludes that the only people who continue to enjoy the bjuga are the “alt-right nuts” who are desperately searching for some bygone and pure Icelandic culture.

In other words, it’s not known for being a pleasing meal.

And here’s another, from Iceland24:

Ninth was Sausage Snatcher
Artful and quick.
He hied up to the rafters
And snatched a little there.

On a kitchen beam he sat
In smoke and soot
And ate a smoked sausage,
That was very good.

In contrast with Skyrgámur‘s habit of eating tons of healthy skyr, Bjúgnakrækir (Sausage Swiper), the Yule Lad arriving on the 20th night of December, prefers his snacks high in cholesterol. Nobody knows exactly what his preference is: rumors say he will ravenously eat all kinds of sausages, without any exception. His appetite can make him reckless sometimes.

Smoked sausages are a brilliant way to preserve meat in a place like Berk (or most of the North Atlantic Islands) where it may snow and hail and rain locusts (or whatever Hiccup dreams up in his snarkfest), but it rarely gets cold enough to freeze food. So smoking, pickling, drying, curing are all ways to keep food stashed through the winter.

The rafters are an ideal place to store the lamb meat and fish meat sausages once they are prepared. Then the cook just snags down dinner from the ceiling and dumps it in a pot to boil. Sometimes you have to climb a bit to get dinner. At the Haddock household it´s a good thing there is a tall chieftain and a willing Night Fury to help with this. And a few cleverly designed long hooks for those days when the chief dragon tamer/chef does not want dragon drool on the sausages.

Until December 20, of course. Then Bjúgnakrækir makes his way into the farms and the village, ready to snatch some sausages. It’s a good thing he’s an acrobat so he can climb WAAAY up into those rafters and reach for the prize. He just, unfortunately, is a leeetle bit afraid of heights. But singing usually helps him deal with the situation, and also keeps the watch dragon fast asleep.

So, if you are planning to make sausage stuffing or simply hot dogs between Dec 20 and Jan 2, keep ’em hidden. This guy’s on the prowl!

Luckily for this chap, there’s not much need for recklessness in recent times: in Reykjavík you can find near the harbor the famous Bæjarins beztu pylsur (Best hot dog in town in English) stand, described by many satisfied customers as one of the best in the world. I’m pretty sure Bjúgnakrækir knows very well and he visits the stand regularly during his annual excursions.

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

Hopefully you already saw my post last Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 19 — is the day when the eighth Yule Lad arrives.

The eighth Yule Lad’s name is Skyrgámur, which translates as Skyr-Gobbler. His particular brand of mischief is that he has a great affinity for Skyr, which is similar to yogurt. It’s a “traditional Icelandic cultured dairy product. It has the consistency of strained yogurt, but a milder flavor. Skyr can be classified as a fresh sour milk cheese, similar to curd cheese consumed like a yogurt in the Baltic states, the Low Countries, Germany and Russia. It has been a part of Icelandic cuisine for centuries. Skyr has a slightly sour dairy flavor, with a hint of residual sweetness. It is traditionally served cold, either plain or with cream. Commercial manufacturers of skyr have added flavors such as vanilla, coffee, or fruit.”

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

Skyr Gobbler, the eighth,
was an awful stupid bloke.
He lambasted the skyr tub
till the lid on it broke.
Then he stood there gobbling
– his greed was well known –
until, about to burst,
he would bleat, howl and groan.

Skyr-Gobbler arrives each year on December 19, and leaves again on New Year’s Day, January 1.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, by Robert Nelson, on Medium.

Skyrgámur brings us back to a familiar theme…a Yule Lad who sneaks into your home to steal food. In this case, the offending miscreant is after your skyr, a kind of Icelandic yogurt. This yogurt was usually kept in a cool, dry place in a barrell-like tub.

Frankly, there’s little need to delve into why Skyrgámur is after your yogurt. After all, Icelandic yogurt hit the big time about ten years ago and is a fixture on American grocery shelves to this day. The national brand is Siggis, and Trader Joe’s carries their own version of Icelandic yogurt as well. Icelandic yogurt swooped in after Greek yogurt had made a splash in the early part of the 21st century, and is marketed as a healthier alternative to regular American yogurts.

Skyr is made from different cultures, which provide a naturally sweeter taste than yogurt, without the addition of extra sugar. It’s also very thick…it takes more milk to make skyr than to make yogurt, and as a result, it’s a very dense consistency. Icelanders are accustomed to “cutting” their skyr with regular milk to lighten it up a bit. So there you have it, your insider tip: add milk to your yogurt for a lighter consistency and to make it last longer!

At any rate, Skyrgámur knows that skyr is delicious, but doesn’t care much for the milk trick…he’ll just gobble it straight out of your tub. Not very sanitary, if you ask me.

And here’s another, from Iceland24:

Skyr Gobbler, the eighth one,
Was a terrible bull.
The lid off the skyr tub
With his fist he smashed.

Then he gobbled up
As much as he could,
Till he was close to bursting
And moaned and grunted.

Skyr (or farköst) is a type of cheese, though it more resembles a very thick yogurt. The Greek yogurt that has become so popular lately resembles it, but not exactly. Skyr tastes tangy, thick and rich, yet it actually is low fat.

Like yogurt, you need to use a “starter” culture from a previous batch of skyr. Milk with all of the cream skimmed out is mixed with buttermilk, rennet and a bit of older skyr culture and brought to a boil. It is allowed to cool down slowly so the rennet can “work its magic.” A curd and whey has been created. The mixture is strained through something like cheese cloth until all the whey has dripped out. (The whey is saved as a preservative for meats). The remaining “curds” are skyr.

Skyrgámur is not the brightest Yule Lad in the litter, and after a full year of doing other things (he is into collecting snow in the winter and dew drops in the summer and his collection keeps getting stolen by someone mysterious), he often forgets exactly how to do his job. Eat it, play with it, throw it at someone, decorate it? His Terrible Terror friend is just as forgetful but still 100% of a prankster. Deadly combination.

They call him stupid, but apart from his lack of temperance Skyrgámur is not that stupid. For those who are wondering, skyr is a low-fat and very high in proteins dairy product, similar to strained yogurt, but much healthier. Thanks to its components, skyr’s nutritional benefits are quite remarkable.

So if you don’t want to share any of your cultural experiences with Skyrgámur, hide your yogurt, skyr, buttermilk, filmjölk, kefir and sour cream from sight between Dec 19 and Jan 1.

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

Hopefully you already saw my post last Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 18 — is the day when the seventh Yule Lad arrives.

The seventh Yule Lad’s name is Hurðaskellir, which translates as Door-Slammer. As you can probably guess from his name, his particular brand of mischief is that he likes to slam doors, especially during the night, waking people up.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

The seventh was Door Slammer,
a sorry, vulgar chap:
When people in the twilight
would take a little nap,
he was happy as a lark
with the havoc he could wreak,
slamming doors and hearing
the hinges on them squeak.

Door-Slammer arrives each year on December 18, and leaves again on New Year’s Eve, December 31.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, by Robert Nelson, on Medium.

Hurðaskellir is, depending on your point of view, either a fun loving miscreant or a deeply disturbed sociopath. You see, he enjoys sneaking into your home for the express purpose of slamming doors. He’s not just in it for the loud noises, although it does seem to provide him a great deal of pleasure. Instead, he waits until you’re asleep, and then slams the door. He’s trying to wake you up!

The poem identifies his preferred moment as “twilight,” which, in Iceland at this time of year, is in the mid-afternoon (3:30 pm, or so, in Reykjavik). Remember, the land of the midnight sun in summer is the land of perpetual darkness in winter. You’ll experience a good three hours or so of day-like conditions between sunrise (the sun poking its head out from behind the mountains) and sunset (the sun returning to the darkness). The bright side of all of this is that when Hurðaskellir, you’re probably well-rested because there’s not much to do during this time other than rest at home.

Also, I can’t really imagine a regular human being would be drawn to the mechanical squeaking of door hinges, but Hurðaskellir is into that as well. More evidence that he is unwell.

And here’s another, from Iceland24:

Seventh was Door Slammer,
– He was a little brash.
When people in the dark
Wanted to nap.

He was not one bit
Sorry for that,
If loud, creaking noises
Came from the hinges.

Hurðaskellir (Door Slammer) is a peculiar Yule Lad and much more of a prankster than most of his brothers. He doesn’t care much for food, but he’s got the obsessive addiction of door-slamming. No door is safe when this crazy rascal is around. The louder the noise, the better – and just to be sure, better repeating the trick more than once in a row: Hurðaskellir’s ego is quite troublesome.

We all know people with the annoying tendency of being very noisy when they close doors, but the problem with Hurðaskellir is that he likes to do that at night. I suggest that you don’t forget to lock any single door in your house, especially if you’re living with somebody with severe heart conditions…

What’s worse is that Hurðaskellir seems to have a fan club with a lot of children in it, because they just LOVE to slam doors and say they are imitating their favorite hero.

Hurðaskellir is going to harass your doors on 18 December.

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

Hopefully you already saw my post on Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 17 — is the day when the sixth Yule Lad arrives.

The sixth Yule Lad’s name is Askasleikir, which translates as Bowl-Licker. His particular brand of mischief is hiding under beds, waiting for someone to put down their askur (a type of bowl with a lid used instead of dishes), and then stealing it so he can lick whatever remaining food is inside.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

Bowl Licker, the sixth one,
was shockingly ill bred.
From underneath the bedsteads
he stuck his ugly head.
And when the bowls were left
to be licked by dog or cat,
he snatched them for himself
– he was sure good at that!

Bowl-Licker arrives each year on December 17, and leaves again on December 30.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, by Robert Nelson, on Medium.

Askasleikir, or the Bowl-Licker, performs a task that should be unsurprising at this point. If there is food leftover in your bowl after you put it away, he will come and lick it up. Yes, he is a continuation of the theme of a small, menacing little guy who comes to steal food, but this one makes a little less sense to the discriminating 21st-century mind.

You see, in the Iceland of yesteryear, “Icelanders ate from lidded wooden bowls that they sometimes kept under the bed or on the floor.” So Askasleikir would hide under your bed, and emerge to swipe the remains from your bowl if you put it away or down on the floor without thoroughly eating your meal or cleaning the bowl. The “askur” was a particular type of wooden bowl that had a lid (primitive Tupperware). And so Askasleikir, as you might expect, emerges to lick these special kinds of bowls.

Now, up to this point, all of the Icelandic Yule Lads have been, for lack of a better descriptor, petty thieves. As cautionary tales, they might be mobilized to encourage children to finish their dinners and thoroughly clean their living spaces before going to bed.

And here’s another, from Iceland24:

The sixth, Bowl Licker,
Was without a peer.
-From under the beds, he
Pushed his ugly head.

When the bowls were placed
In front of cat and dog,
He cunningly snatched them
And licked till he was full.

Askasleikir (Bowl Licker) is the 6th in the Yule Lads gang to visit during the Christmas period. He arrives on the 17th of December. I don’t want to make it sound like I am partial – because in fact I am not – but I think Askasleikir is very sly. At least, more than the majority of his brothers.

In the old times, especially in farmhouses, Icelanders used to eat from lidded bowls sitting on their beds. The lidded bowls prevented the food from getting cold and were usually placed on the floor or under the bed in between bites.

Askasleikir specialized in hiding under furniture waiting for these moments and refined his art over the years. When something edible is placed on the floor, he stretches his arms and steals it.

I suspect it may be this gentleman’s fault that children are so afraid of monsters hiding under the bed at night.

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

Hopefully you already saw my post on Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 16 — is the day when the fifth Yule Lad arrives.

The fifth Yule Lad’s name is Pottaskefill, which translates as Pot-Scraper. His particular brand of mischief is stealing leftovers from pots.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

Pot-Scraper, the fifth one,
was a funny sort of chap.
When kids were given scrapings,
he’d come to the door and tap.
And they would rush to see
if there really was a guest.
Then he hurried to the pot
and had a scraping fest.

Pot-scraper arrives each year on December 16, and leaves again on December 29.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, by Robert Nelson, on Medium.

Pottaskefill is sneaky like the others, to be sure, but he’s also a prankster. He performs one of the most basic pranks known to humankind: he knocks on your door, and then promptly runs away before you open to reveal nobody at the front porch. In a variation of this prank, however, Pottaskefill runs around back and scrapes the remains from your pot and eats it before you even know what has happened.

You might be thinking that this is the same sort of mischief as Stúfur, but I assure you, a pot and a pan are quite different things. And, if you hang with this series long enough, we will move beyond the simple licking of kitchen implements and vessels and get into some other creative mischief!

And here’s another, from Iceland24:

The fifth, Pot Licker,
Was a weird cool lad.
As the children received scrapings,
He knocked at the door.

They rushed off to see
If a guest was dropping in.
Then he hurried to the pot,
And had a filling meal.

It’s Pottaskefill, the pot licker. Most of us, admit it, are not fond of leftovers (spam hash, anybody?). This Yule Lad lives for them! He patiently waits until households are finished with their cooking. Then he sneaks in and demolishes the leftovers in the pot with lightning speed.

His job is easy to do with the normal Viking household, but the Vikings on Berk are quite well grown, and the chances of leftovers are not great.

But Pottaskefill has picked up a few tricks over the years to guarantee he gets leftovers. Vikings had a notorious love of seasoning, gaining new tastes as they traveled on trading missions and their raid- oops, I mean, acquiring new possessions without paying for them. A wealthier household might have spices such as cumin, pepper, saffron, ginger, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, mace, cinnamon, anise-seed, and bay leaves. In fact, Scandinavia is one of the few regions outside of South Asia that uses cardamom as a staple spice.

Anyway, like a Viking trader, Pottaskefill has collected his own formidable armada of seasonings from his visits. He has strung them onto a bandolier like vest that he wears when he visits Berk. And he uses them liberally and inappropriately (lots of salt in the deserts, honey and cinnamon in the meat soup, etc.). And lots and lots and lots of hot peppers.

Top it off with a few extra logs to insure the fire will burn the food, and Pottaskefill has guaranteed leftovers! It’s a good thing he has developed a cast iron stomach over the years. Some of the other Yule Lads and Grýla have noticed, actually, that he no longer can eat food if it tastes good.

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat: