Ach ja, ich hab mal Hákarl (Gammelhai) gegessen:
"It is poisonous shark that has been killed, buried in gravel by the seaside for months, dug up, hung to dry for ponderous amounts of time and then cubed. Everyone involved in this process should be on trial in The Hague.
Here is what I had to say about hakarl in an article I wrote about Iceland last year:
"Iceland is infamous for being among the world leaders in 'gross-out' food. The Japanese, with their natto and fish heads, can only stare enviously at some of the things the Icelandic folk have cooked up. Things that have been cut off of both ends of rams, unknown meats pickled in whey, and harkarl, a kind of fish that should sue for damages. Somewhere along in the past, on one of those days that must have existed but is lost to ancient history, a Viking fellow was stumbling along an Icelandic beach with a large shark over his shoulder when he thought to himself, "Hmm, I'm starving. This is the only food I have. Better leave it here, then." And off he went. My theory doesn't account for how this poisonous fish came to be buried three feet deep and allowed to putrefy in its own bodily fluids for weeks or months, nor how it was dug up again. My theory doesn't explain what caused somebody to want to eat it, knowing it is usually poisonous, or to decide that it was good, and serve it in cubes with toothpicks in it to giggling tourists. I can't explain it, and neither can the rest of the world. Which is why harkarl is still in Iceland, and we all live very far away."
So what does hakarl taste like then? It tastes like crying. It tastes like broken promises. It tastes like the Lord God Almighty ripping the Bible out of your hands and saying, "Sorry, this doesn't apply for you. I think you want "Who Moved My Cheese?" It tastes like the Predator wading into a Care Bears movie and opening fire. It tastes like - bah. That's what it tastes like. Bah.
The only - and I do mean only - upside about this food is that it was free. I was wandering through a weekend market in Reykjavik and came across a stall serving fish. The woman working there started talking to me in Icelandic (please see the full set of my Icelandic articles to figure out why), and the moment she realized I was not Icelandic, she smiled and offered me a little paper cup with a cube of hakarl in it. At the time, I thought this was a warm gesture of welcome to her country. As it turns out, she was thinking, "Well, you are foreign and now I shall poison you."
I smiled the moment I put the cube on my tongue. It was the exact sort of smile you get when you are having the worst day of your life and then find out that your house was crushed by an airplane carrying rubber chickens. It is the smile you smile when everything is aligned against you and it is simply not your day.
And then the following conversation took place:
Tongue: (sits down)
Brain: What's wrong?
Tongue: I felt a great disturbance in the force, as if a million voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has happened.
Brain: What's that your eating?
Tongue: I think it's a bullion cube.
Brain: Why would you ever eat a bullion cube?
Tongue: I don't know. I don't know anything, anymore.
Brain: Well spit it out then.
Tongue: I can't. I can't move.
Brain: Spit it out I say!
Tongue: Medic!
Brain: Hold on, just hold on!
Tongue: There...is...another Skywalkeraaaaggghhhhhhhhhhh.
I was raised not to spit out food. It goes against every fabric of my being. I used to work in Chinatown, where often they serve you meat that is so chewy that it is customary that you dedicate a room in your house to it, and invite people to help chew it in their leisure time. I especially would not spit out food that someone else gave me - a guest in their country.
Instead, I stowed the cube in my cheek and walked far away, to the retaining wall by the bay, and spit it out there. A duck (there are ducks everywhere in Reykjavik) came up and pecked it a few times. Then, and I believe I can say this without fear of contradiction, it flew out to sea and plunged into the icy waters, its last words "Forgive me!"
