Fish and I have not always been the best of friends, or really, from the perspective of the fish, we were better friends before I discovered how tasty they can be. What I mean to say is that throughout my childhood I had a mild phobia of seafood. For at least the first decade of my life the only seafood I ate was an occasional fish-stick, which was more of a ketchup delivery device than anything. Looking back, I’m sure that I was at least partially influenced by my mom’s distaste for the food group. Mom’s word was the voice of reason, always. From about age five to eight, my arguments went like this “my mom says _____”, no further explanation needed; so naturally her influence crept into my palate.
Months ago, my darling friend Lashley invited me and my then new-ish boyfriend Andrew to a Þorrablót* feast held by The Icelandic Association of Northern California. Now, I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but Lashley and her family never fail to disappoint on a good time, so we showed up curious, ready to have some fun, and a little bit late (oops).
*Þorrablót or Thorrablot is an Icelandic mid-winter celebration, generally involving traditional songs, food, drink and dancing.