| Surströmming
in Northern Sweden |
| By Andreas
Grundtvig |
| Usually,
when visiting a new place, I make a point of trying the local food. I want
to eat what the locals eat no matter how its been prepared or what it is.
The way I see it, if its tradition then surely enough people must have
survived it to make it so. Though, when I visited Piteå in Northern
Sweden this last summer, I was little prepared for the local delicacy of
rotten fish!
After a few
days in this little town of 40,000 people, on the shore of the Gulf of
Bothnia, I had become familiar with a fir-tree-thick landscape in endless
daylight. I had already explored some of the local delicacies. Pite Pils,
the local lager, had been first on my list, and it appealed to my taste
buds in no time. Being almost in Lapland, there seemed to be no shortage
of reindeer, and in need of a snack whilst out celebrating with friends
at one of Sweden’s biggest street fairs, I had Souvas, a reindeer kebab. |
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Apart from
being perhaps a bit more peppery, it was just like my usual. My palate
had also been subjected to a sort of ‘Parma Reindeer’ produced by the nomadic
Lapps, but this was like chewing a piece of wood. Then there was Pitepalt!
... Lumbering Dumplings resembling cartoon bombs stuffed with bits of bacon
instead of gunpowder.
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After I had washed
down a second with a glass of cold milk, they ka-boomed in my stomach.
When my hosts began to speak of a particular kind of fish that had not
been stored properly and in a sense gone off, I began to wonder if my philosophy
to savor local tradition really should know its limits. |
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| Lesson 1:
The herring known as Surströmming is not rotten! To imply as such
is almost criminal.
The fish has
instead merely “fermented”. It is preserved in a manner that
would make any bon vivant of Microwave cooking retch. Eating “Sour herring”
began some centuries ago when in harder times the local supply of salt
ran out and the people were troubled. Not for long though! A half-starved
population with a ‘what the heck mentality’, decided to go ahead
and try storing fish without such trifles as preservation. There must have
been an almighty stink when the first barrels of fish were opened half
a year later, but despite what anyone sane might nowadays expect, the dish
that has an eau-de-toilet pan perfume was adopted and became tradition.
If it wasn’t
for the sieve of Denmark, the Baltic Sea would be a landlocked lake. |
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Offshore
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| Subsequently,
this semi-sea has a very low concentration of salt. This is a quality essential
for any herring destined to become sour. The herring is caught in spring,
when it’s in prime condition and just about to spawn. Once tinned, the
rot ... sorry fermentation, can begin!!
Half a year
later gases have built up sufficiently, to cause the pressure inside
the once cylindrical tins to bulge into a ball. These unusual containers
of Surströmming can now be found in supermarkets all over Northern
Sweden and have been called the Northern Swedes' candy! I’ve even spotted
tins as far away as the Spanish Costa Del Sol where holidaying Swedes no
doubt miss a taste of home. But, who knows? Maybe it's the nude sunbathers
that make them reflect on the taste of of rotten fish.
On a sunny
balcony in soaring temperatures of 15ºC, my hosts laid out a big
table for the Surströmming banquet. Kalle, the head of the household,
bravely takes the tins to the bottom of the garden and covers them in a
tea towel. Looking away, trying to protect his nose with his shoulder,
he carefully opens them. He tries hard not to inhale as the pressurized
stink emanates. |
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| Once he's
poured out a suspect, murky brown liquid, he brings the can to the table.
The smell is so overpowering, I wonder if somebody nearby has a very bad
stomach problem and should make a quick exit to the crapper, or leave altogether.
After awhile, though, nobody has moved. The smell can only come from one
place. I begin to have second thoughts. Should I really introduce this
“food” to my mouth just to avoid causing offense to my hosts?
Copious glasses
of ice cold schnapps are raised to a position directly in front of our
noses. Staring into each other’s eyes, not daring to look away for a superstitious
fear of seven year's bad sex, we toast the meal and gulp.
Skål!
The sandwiching begins.
I break off
a piece of the bread known quite aptly as ‘tunnbröd’. |
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| This thin,
crisp bread comes in big square sheets which are broken up and plastered
with butter. Boiled potatoes are then peeled and sliced, and together
with some chopped onion, they are sprinkled on the bread. My hosts are
particular about spuds and maintain that only the best small new ones,
due to their shape known as ‘almond potatoes’, should be used. Then
we're all ready for the piece de resistance.
I fork a
whole fish from the tin and slice it down the middle. I remove its
soft insides, including the dark gray roe, and open the fish up like
a book. Stamping the red flesh with my fork the bone loosens and it can
be filleted. I cut small pieces ready for my sandwich. The final touch
- a big dollop of creme fraiche and voila!
I Take A
Bite!!!
Just as I'm
expecting everybody to roar with laughter because I've just fallen for
the oldest Swedish trick in the book, I begin to enjoy. Nobody laughs!
They're all too busy with their own meal! Some hungry individuals are already
on their fifth fish! Perhaps, its only the relief of this delicacy, not
tasting as bad as it smells, but I think I'm developing a taste for the
stuff and start a second sandwich.
My initiation
to Northern Sweden is complete.
Andreas
Grundtvig, the son of a renowned Danish artist, was born in Sweden.
He spent his childhood moving from place to place, ending up in England
where he was educated. Since 1994, Grundtvig has lived in Southern Spain
and has enjoyed a variety of vocations including teaching English. He spent
two years as editor of an online sports magazine, but turned his attentions
to travel writing and back to teaching in August 2001. He has one daughter
Vanessa, and lives with his Swedish girlfriend Ulrica in La Linea. Articles
by Andreas Grundtvig have appeared in Finlandia Weekly and at Bootsnall.com.
Travels include touring Europe by train, visiting former Yugoslav republics,
and hitchhiking to the four extremes of Great Britain. He is currently
working on a book and is interested to hear from any publishers.
Contact Andreas
Grundtvig - HERE - |
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