Hotdogs: The rumors are true! The hotdogs we had in Iceland were top notch. When we landed, groggy eyed and crabby pantsed, my brother made the Grade A move of getting a 6:30 a.m. hot dog from the airport’s 10-11 outpost, Iceland’s version, essentially, of a 7-11 (but with more licorice flavored candy). It was delicious. The go-to place to try a hot dog, though, is Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur, which Google Translate tells me is Icelandic for Town’s Best Sausages. It’s the best something, that’s for sure. The street stand has been in operation since the late 1930s, and has been frequented by the likes of Bill Clinton, Anthony Bourdain, and, most famously, me and George. Har har. Seriously, though, lamby-deliciousness, snappy natural casing, all smothered in ketchup; rich, sweet Icelandic mustard; fried onions; and lots of other goodness. Admission: I had more than one throughout our stay. Duh.