Fermented and Free-range Food
I’m sitting in a communal kitchen at Soffia’s House, a guesthouse in the town of Siglufjörður in North Iceland. I just tried (operative word being tried) a piece of hákarl (fermented shark). It took another attempt after several hours of reconsidering this decision for me to successfully consume the square, firm nibble of fish.
Soffia’s House guesthouse in central Siglufjörður
I quickly chased the hákarl with a swig of “Black Death” or Brennivín, Icelandic schnapps. Brennivín roughly translates into burning wine, and the moniker Black Death was given in attempt to deter partygoers and others inclined towards spirits from imbibing. This of course didn’t stop me, nor others apparently.
Bite of fermented shark next to “Black Death” schnapps with chaser snacks in the background
In the short week I was in Iceland, I didn’t have the opportunity to sample everything I was hoping. Plus in the smaller towns cuisine options were somewhat limited. But top of the list was fermented shark or hákarl. Not widely popular today, this is considered a highly cherished traditional Icelandic dish. Hákarl is consumed more broadly around special holidays, including Thorrablot or Thorri, celebrated from mid-January to mid-February and symbolizing triumph over the hardest part of winter. (As it so happens, hákarl can also be purchased from the local grocery store.) It’s not for the faint of stomach – hákarl smells and tastes extremely pungent. Some say similar to blue cheese, but most say (and I say) it more closely resembles ammonia. Despite warnings, I felt it important to expose my palate to local traditions.
For a sit-down dinner, I opted for a more palatable fish dish of baked halibut at a cozy spot called Harbour House in Siglufjörður. The host confirmed they don’t catch fish off the coast near town, but in the deeper seas off Iceland. Accompanied by a glass of straight, ice-free Icelandic strawberry gin and served with simple sides of salad and a baked potato, this made for a very enjoyable meal.
Frequented by locals, the cozy Harbour House Café on a snowy night in Siglufjörður
Deep sea halibut with strawberry vodka at Harbour House in Siglufjörður
Iceland produces its own beef and lamb. The beef I sampled was in burger form (see Beer Bath and a Burger blog post). The livestock are housed during the harsh winters for their protection, but they are generally allowed to roam free in the warmer months, which means they have a decent life free of the stress that comes with factory farms and they feed on naturally growing grasses and herbs, in addition to hay.
A similar cycle of treatment applies to sheep. Flocks are taken to the highlands in the summer where they roam free for several weeks. When fall arrives, the sheep and their lambs are herded back to the farms with the assistance of Icelandic horses. Because there is limited space at the farm, many lambs are slaughtered, which is in part why lamb is commonly found on menus throughout Iceland. (From what I understand, the meat is more tender and delicate in flavor since the lambs are slaughtered at a particularly young age. But alas, I did not get around to sampling.)
Popular Icelandic hotdog from convenient store near Lake Mývatn
And of course, you can’t visit Iceland without indulging in the obligatory local hotdog. There’s no excuse not to – they’re cheap and abundant. The Icelandic hotdog is the closest I came to trying lamb, although they are also made with beef and pork; the expected potpourri of meats one might find in a hotdog. The meats are hormone-free and grass-fed, which lends itself to the mouthwatering quality.