Skata

It was the year 2017, a day like today, when my sister was visiting Iceland and at that time, we too, given that we lived in Sweden. A.'s grandfather invited us to accompany him to his family's house to eat this dish, which is traditionally served with potatoes and melted butter. Having tasted the infamous surströmming or fermented herring, typical of Sweden, I already had an idea of ​​what was in store for us. We were warned in advance that that day we should preferably go with our worst garments, nothing that we were going to use later, especially the next day, since the smell is so penetrating that the clothes stink of the fermented scent. Yummy, are you hungry? So we did, without bathing and with the worst of our items, to meet the supposed gastronomic experience. We arrived at the place and from the car the smell of ammonia was already perceivable. The ewws fall short.

Allow me a detour. I once heard from Tim Gunn, in Project Runway, a saying: “When you first enter into the monkey house, you think, ‘Oh my god this place stinks!’ And then after you’re there for 20 minutes you think, ‘it’s not so bad’ and after you’re there for an hour it doesn’t smell at all. And anyone entering the monkey house freshly thinks, ‘this stinks!’”. Well, the same happened with our experience with the so-called skata.

The litmus test came when we had to taste the dish. The skate in ammonia tastes salty. It doesn't really have much flavor, but the smell is enough to keep your palate distracted. It is not a dish to eat when you are hungry, especially if you do what I do, taste a piece and really only eat the potatoes. In that place we lasted half an hour, which was saturated with all the close, distant and more distant family of A., who are from the western Fjords, where the dish originates. Some came, sat, ate, and left, to make room for the next round of those who came to do exactly the same. Amid the sea of ​​people, the smell and hunger, eating only potatoes, there is no time for after-dinner chit-chat.