Surströmming: my non-adventure with rotten fish

All right, perhaps it is not fair to describe this experience as a non-adventure. The Oxford dictionary after all defines an adventure as being "an unusual and exciting or daring experience". I think this ticks at least two of three boxes - it is unusual enough that it had never crossed my path in all my years until now, and I did have to psych myself up to it a bit, so it required some daring. So it should perhaps count as an adventure, despite how events eventually transpired. There is also the whole "fermented, not rotten" discussion which could be had, but let's not be pedantic.

Those who do not live in Sweden or the Nordics and have not had much experience with either may require some explanation. People have often asked me what sort of food is typically Swedish. My go-to answer is usually, wait for it, Swedish meatballs! While that may be true to some extent (although here is it just called ”meatballs”), Swedes do eat a lot more than just that. One thing I often forget to mention is herring, mostly because I don’t fancy it myself. It comes in all shapes and forms. Popular, though by no means unique to Sweden, is pickled herring with flavours such as onion, snaps, dill, spiced anchovy, French onion, mustard, tomato, wild garlic & lemon, ginger & lime. Then some brands (or maybe it is a national thing, I don’t know) also do a 'flavour of the year'. I had also once read about herring ice cream, though it was admittedly described in the article as the ”sickest ice cream ever". Although I beg to differ that it wins the title, it does suggest that herring ice cream is not commonly to be found on any menu.

Anyway, the Swedish love affair with herring does not end there. Traditional to northern Sweden is what is known as surströmming, literally ”sour herring” and the Swedish name for herring which is preserved through brining and fermentation. This rose, by any other name, is basically salted fermented fish.

It is not a Swedish invention. Wikipedia and many other sites which can only have got their information from Wikipedia, suggest that ancient Roman and Greek cuisine included fermented fish. It was, after all, an easy way to preserve fish back in the day. Surströmming was traditionally, and I suppose possibly still is, enjoyed more in the northern parts of Sweden. I suspect the long winters could conceivably have played a part in moulding the staple diet of the people. I don’t know enough about the history of surströmming to make any further comment, so I will refrain. 

What I do know is this: the fish is soaked in strong brine for about 20 hours to draw out the blood, then in a weaker brine for several months. The cool temperature in the summer months may also have contributed to the fact that this was predominantly a northern thing. This also means that there is a 'time of the year'* for surströmming which begins on the third Thursday of August** and goes on for maybe a few weeks or so, or as long as supply lasts. I don't really know. Our surströmming evening in late September was considered to be late in the season. Time was, the fish is stored in wooden barrels in which they were later also sold. This supposedly meant that most people bought them directly from the producers and consumed them immediately. No one wanted to run the risk of a barrel leaking and depositing the supposedly all-permeating odour of its contents in one’s home or place of business. Production nowadays is very different and surströmming can be found in cans in major supermarkets across the country.

We acquired one such can for our surströmming evening. I say 'we', I mean one of my Swedish friends . Surströmming is something foreigners in Sweden know well. Or at least know about. It is often mentioned in Swedish language courses and learn Swedish books as being something typical of Swedish culture and customs. Not many have tried it, not even amongst Swedes. I am game to try most things once, and do like to try local food wherever I am and all that, so I did not resist my Swedish friends' resolution to open up this particular horizon for me. I looked forward to my surströmming initiation amidst declarations of ”oh, you never know, you might love it" accompanied by growing nervousness as The Day drew closer. With good reason, I feel. By all accounts, surströmming is one of the foulest smelling of things on the face of God’s green (blue) earth. Legend has it that an apartment building had to be vacated because someone was foolish enough to open a can indoors and the smell could never after be removed no matter how much the place was aired or cleaned. Tales of people calling the police to report a decomposing body in the building, only to find that the culprit was a can of surströmming have made the news, albeit a small two paragraph gap-filler type piece. I was warned that I might never get the smell off the clothes I am wearing when the can is opened. See what I mean about having to psych myself up? These are not tales of reassurance. About the only reassuring thing I heard about it really, is that it smells much worse than it tastes. That, and the fact that there do seem to be people who genuinely like it. Not just people who can be dismissed as "just saying it" to appear, I don't know, tough, different from the norm or viking-like. There is an abundance of websites and blogs of people waxing lyrical about the gastronomical pleasure that is surströmming, discussing how to best enjoy this foul and fetid delicacy and the best accompanying beverage. There is also a collection of modern alternative recipes, including to my shock and horror, surströmming ice cream. That beats herring ice cream for the sickest ice cream hands down!

The underwater can opening procedure

The consensus is that the protocol for opening a barrel or can of surströmming is to do it under water. I think barrels were opened in lakes and streams; cans are now opened in buckets of water, if nothing else is available. And always outdoors. That is what we did. We appointed the husband of one of the Swedes as the official surströmming can-opener. "It's a man's job", he was told! Gender equality, feminism, female emancipation and such like temporary suspended in the face of super stinky fish! We dug a hole in the garden to dispose of the water in the bucket afterwards. You don't want to pour in down any drain because the smell could come back up through the plumbing. So we dug a hole. I say we, I mean the above-mentioned official surströmming can-opener. We stood around him in solidarity, me with my camera at the ready to photo-document the entire experience. 

And here is where the non-adventure begins. I expected to be gagging and retching at the very least. I had even pondered the relative pros and cons of running into the house or to the edge of the garden if I needed to hurl. There was none of that though. It took a while for the smell to reach us. When it did, there was no denying it was foul. But it was so mild it was barely detectable. It was a hundred times diluted kind of foul. Not that we wished to be subject an indescribably horrible spell, but it nonetheless a bit of an anti-climax when that smell failed to manifest. The fish was removed from the cans and rinsed; the water pour away and the hole filled in. We trotted back into the house, me feeling an odd mix of relief and disappointment, and nervousness. For although the smell was mild, it was as I said still foul. It really did not smell like something I wanted to eat. 

The traditional way to eat surströmming is on 'thin bread' (tunnbröd) which can be a hard bread, almost like a cracker, or soft like tortilla, with boiled almond potatoes, diced red onion and (optional) sour cream or crème fraîche. That's what we went for. Most people spread the crème fraîche down first and had everything else on top. I opted for having the crème fraîche on top. I think I was hoping to hide the sight of the fish or maybe damper the smell. It had gotten worse for me once in the house. It was still mild, but also still foul. The more exposure I had to it, the less I wanted to try the damned thing. But then, the thing about surströmming is supposed to be that it stinks to kingdom come, but tastes merely salty. So I championed on and loaded up my bit of bread. I took a bite, chewed and swallowed. By that time, my Swedish friend was already exclaiming that it was horrible and that it was not how it was meant to be, and it was many many time worse. I agreed whole-heartedly. I had no clue as to how it was supposed to be, but it was rancid. But again only very mildly so. I took a bit or two more, and declared myself given up and requested a piece of the back-up cabbage roll, please! I didn't gag or feel like I needed to throw up or anything. There was no turning of the stomach. It was just that the rancidity wasn't quite mild enough for me to forget that it was there. And that was that.

So it was all in all rather anticlimactic. We expected a stink of all encompassing proportions; we did not get that. We expected an edible meal; we did not get that either. I was expecting to describe here how it was really not that bad after all, and how not to judge your rotten fish by its smell. But I can't. I can't say that it was that horrible either. It was all just a bit ...myeh. I can say though, I had a very good meal of cabbage rolls in the end. I can also say that while I did not enjoy the actual surströmming, I did enjoy the experience of the day. We came to the conclusion that we got the wrong type / brand of fish, and that it needs to stink for the actual fish to be fine. Next year, says my Swedish friend, we will make sure we get the right type and brand. I immediately said that I think I am busy that day, which got the expected laugh. All jokes aside though, would I try it again? Sure, why not? It doesn't seem like I got the whole authentic experience, so given another opportunity, I will give it another chance.

*A lot of food seem to have a 'time of the year' in Sweden. Even if some can be found at other times of the year, there are times when it remains an almost national event.
** The so-called surströmming-premier. Surströmming is distributed for sale only shortly before that date. I read somewhere that there some King long ago once decreed that surströmming cannot be sold before the premier in order to prevent sale of suströmming which is not properly fermented. I am not sure if that was health risk or a matter of taste.