‘Rotten’ shark meat that smells like ammonia is a delicacy

Iceland, land of fire and ice — so say the tourist ads. But it really is like that, because the few man-made monuments on this island nation are fairly recent constructions. It wasn’t until the 9th century that human settlement graced the coasts of Iceland. And the wonders of nature! Think volcanic terrains that resemble Mars, lakes boasting whimsically shaped icebergs, thundering waterfalls, hot springs and geysers! No wonder Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth began on Iceland’s magnificent Snæfellsjökull volcano.

Curiously, the abundance of natural wonders in Iceland hasn’t translated into a diverse culinary scene. Lamb, Arctic char, salmon, cod, and shark are among the limited fare served on the island. One of the most well-known Icelandic dishes is kæstur hákarl (fermented shark), which is often incorrectly translated as “rotten shark.” A dish that harkens back centuries, it now competes with fast-food like hamburgers and pizzas, making it more of a historical curiosity and tourist attraction than a staple of the Icelandic diet. However, it remains a delicacy worth preserving and is often enjoyed during the traditional Þorrablót festival, held in the month of Thorri. Per the Icelandic calendar, this falls somewhere between late January and early February.

Many people shun the dish because of the ammonia smell that hákarl gives off, and the strong flavor akin to a very pungent cheese. American chef and TV food show host Anthony Bourdain, well-known for his adventurous palate, was one of the detractors. After trying it for the first time, he firmly declared that he would not be having seconds. The distinct smell and taste of hákarl have a logical explanation. Icelanders prepare it using large Greenland or boreal sharks, which can reach up to seven meters in length and weigh around 3,000 pounds. Fermenting the shark meat before eating is a must, since fresh hákarl contains high levels of trimethylamine oxide and urea, which are toxic to humans.

In the past, to remove toxic elements, sharks were buried under gravel and stones near the shore. They stayed there for months in the cold Icelandic climate. Later, they were unearthed and left to dry in the open air to complete the process. This traditional method has been updated. After months of fermentation in containers, the chopped shark meat is rinsed and then hung to dry outside for another four or five months to shed the remaining toxins. The end result of this lengthy curing process is meat chunks with a thin brown layer on one side and dry, rough shark skin on the other. Both are removed so only the white, fermented meat remains. The chunks are usually cut into small cubes (teningar in Icelandic), which are packaged and refrigerated for sale in Icelandic supermarkets.

The first time I tried hákarl (yes, I’ve tried it more than once) was in Bjarnarhöfn, a remote farm on the Snæfellsness peninsula about 100 miles from the capital city of Reykjavík. The farm has been transformed into a unique museum, showcasing the various methods of preparing this dish since the 17th century. And yes, you can also try it for yourself. When you taste a piece of fermented shark, the first thing that hits you is the strong ammonia smell. Resist the initial temptation to gulp it down without chewing — locals advise savoring it while you chew. The texture is not unpleasant; quite the opposite, it’s much like salted fish. Allowing it to linger in your mouth for a few moments lets you fully taste its intense, acrid flavor, which becomes more tolerable when paired with rye bread or cheese. To complete the experience, chase it down with a shot of Brennivin, a local 40-proof brandy also known as svarti dauði (literally, “black death” in English). Gastronomic marketing is not Iceland’s forte… or is it?

Sign up for our weekly newsletter to get more English-language news coverage from EL PAÍS USA Edition