I must say, on my trip to Iceland I earned bragging rights for stomaching the odd local fare. And I don't mean 'stomaching' in the negative sense because most of the stuff I tried was pretty baller!
Let's start with the amazing stuff, shall we? Skyr. Skyrrrrrrrr. Just mention the word and I immediately crave the goodness that is Skyr. Before flying back to the states, my last meal in the airport was, you guessed it, blueberry Skyr. It is so joyous to consume. In fact, upon my return to DC, I Googled where I could find it and voila- Whole Foods is a distributor! I walked to the Whole Foods by my office one day on my lunch break and legitimately squealed and did a celebratory dance when I saw my beloved Skyr on the shelves. Skyr should be placed on a pedestal. (My first experience with Skyr below: Skyr, croutons, blueberries ahhhhhhh!)
Whale. What can I say other than "Hey Minke you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind hey Minke! Yeah, yeah, Hey Minke!" I was slightly weirded out by the prospect of eating Shamu because when I was younger, I was THAT girl. Yes, that girl that geeked out over whales and dolphins. I even knew the height of the Washington Monument- measured in WHALE (555 feet= 2 Humpbacks, 1 Orca, 1 Fin, 1 Blue, 2 Sperm, 1 Right, 1 Pilot and 1 Bowhead whale). Take that to the bank!
Tangent aside, I tried my friend's whale steak at dinner one night (below) and I was hooked. OBSESSED with whale. Any chance I got I ordered Minke whale because it is oh-so delicious! While in Reykjavík, I ate whale prepared two ways. The first was a filet served with mashed potatoes. Minke whale just tastes like a chewier version of beef. It's not fishy in texture or smell because, remember kids, whales are mammals.
The second way I ate my whale was on a kabob. My group affectionately referred to this as "Moby Dick on a Stick." The kabob was super chewy and I found it harder to tear the meat with my teeth on the stick (I blame the "fibers" or "tendons" or whatever piece of the whale it was that looked like a string holding everything together. Did I eat its blood vessel?!). We were given Bergby's whale sauce for the kabob (yum!) which tasted similar to honey mustard.
Puffin! Those cute little birds make cute little meals. Again, I used my mooching prowess to grab a bite of the bird (I wasn't a total mooch- I ordered shark, shots, and dessert for the table to share). Now, puffin wasn't the first time I have eaten bird. I've had duck a l'orange and more recently, pheasant at a wine tasting in Virginia. Comparatively, puffin had a tougher texture, but it was pretty good.
Hákarl: time to get my Viking on! I was psyched to try this only because I read so much about it before my trip! If I can't get props for eating fermented shark, then props should never be given to anyone, anytime, anywhere. :) Hákarl aka. rotten shark meat is an Icelandic delicacy. Killed, gutted, and cartilaged the flesh is cut up and buried. The meat is left to decay and rot in the pit for 6-8 weeks or a few months out of necessity.
Greenland sharks are poisonous because they have no urinary tracts so they secrete urine from their skin which causes acid build up. The decaying process allows the acid to be removed from the flesh and makes it digestible for humans. The meat is then dug up, washed, and aired out for another 2-4 months. After being cured, the brown crust of the meat is removed and the shark is cut up into small pieces to be served.
My shark came in 4 pieces, about the size of cheese cubes, in a small glass jar (above). Thank god it had a lid because that ish smelled like rank sea water! I put my piece on a toothpick and chewed and chewed and chewed that sucker until I swallowed it out of necessity of knowing I had rotten shark in my mouth. It didn't taste as bad as I have heard it described (tasting like urine? I wouldn't go that far... it tasted more like an ammonia/sea water mix), but perhaps my shot of Brennivín, what Icelanders refer to as "Black Death," helped chase the bad taste.
The best part of this shark and shot experience was the group of Swedish men at the table behind us. They observed us becoming Vikings, cheered us on, and said, "Welcome to the club!"
Skál!
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