Imagine taking a bite of meat that smells like a mop bucket, tastes like a sock dipped in ammonia, and somehow doesn’t kill you. Get a taste of Iceland’s most stomach-churning delicacy: hákarl, a fermented Greenland shark dish so pungent and extreme, it once made Gordon Ramsay gag and Anthony Bourdain swear off shark forever.
Buried, Dried, and Still Kicking
In the icy isolation of ancient Iceland, food wasn’t just about flavour. It was about survival. With little wood, poor soil, and barely any livestock, early settlers had to work with what the Arctic seas offered. That included the monstrous Greenland shark, a creature that grows up to seven metres long and can live for over 400 years. Sounds impressive, right? One problem, though. Its flesh is laced with natural toxins so potent that eating it fresh can cause blindness, convulsions, or even death.
But instead of avoiding the beast, Icelanders embraced the challenge.
To make the poisonous meat safe, they developed a wild method passed down since the Viking age: bury the shark in sand and gravel for up to 12 weeks, then hang it to dry for months. This lets the deadly urea and trimethylamine oxide break down, making the meat… well, not safe exactly, but at least non-lethal.
It’s Not Rotten, It’s Just… Fermented
Modern hákarl isn’t buried anymore, but the traditional stink remains. The meat is now fermented in plastic containers, then dried in open sheds until it becomes chewy, white, and smells suspiciously like public toilet cleaner. Some pieces come from the belly and are red and rubbery, while others are pale and cheesy in texture.
Taste-wise, it’s a rollercoaster of horror. Locals say it’s fishy and strong like blue cheese, with an unforgettable aftertaste described as “urine meets gym sock.” Most people wash it down with Brennivín, a fierce Icelandic schnapps dubbed “Black Death.”
The Dish That Refuses to Be Forgotten
Even though many Icelanders say they wouldn’t touch hákarl outside of special occasions, the dish holds a deep cultural place. It’s front and centre during Þorrablót, a midwinter feast that also features boiled sheep heads and pickled ram testicles.
Tourists try hákarl for bragging rights. Locals serve it for tradition. But why has this dish survived, when most of the world moved on from food that tries to kill you?
Because hákarl isn’t about taste — it’s about toughness.
It’s a dish that tells the story of people who didn’t give up when the land gave them poison for dinner. They buried it, waited, and turned it into something to be proud of. Even if it smells like a public restroom.
Want to Try It?
You’ll find hákarl in most supermarkets across Iceland, usually in plastic tubs, waiting to ruin someone’s day. It’s especially common in Reykjavík and is often handed out to tourists at museums like the Bjarnarhöfn Shark Museum, where the fermentation process still takes place.
But don’t expect culinary bliss. Expect strong reactions, a violent nose crinkle, and a respect for Icelanders you never had before. And if you burp, and you will, prepare to relive the experience all over again.
