Torrabloat

Prepared sheep head for the holiday can be bought in vacuum packagingOn the thirteenth Friday of winter, according to the ancient Icelandic tradition, the harshest winter month comes - Torrey. For sure, in whose name the name of the month comes from: was it a Scandinavian god (presumably Thor himself) or just the spirit of weather and nature? Whoever Torrey was, he was worth appeasing by offering him a sacrifice (blót). The celebration of the spouse’s day mentioned in the corresponding section is directly related to Torrablood, but traditional feasts for pagans, once associated with sacrifice, have long been suppressed by the church.

The feast tradition took on a new life only with Romanticism and the revival of the national spirit. In 1874, celebrating the centenary of Iceland’s colonization, the people of Akureyri first celebrated Torrabloot, establishing a vogue for Viking decoration: bonfires laid out along the room, walls decorated with weapons and shields, carved thrones for guests of honor – and special food. A rare foreigner is able to appreciate the resourcefulness of Icelanders, under pain of hunger accustomed to use in writing everything - from boiled and scorched ram heads to seal fins. For lack of salt, the Icelanders used other methods of preserving products: lamb and whale meat were hung in the chimney, allowing them to smoke on the smoke from manure (hangikjöt); shark meat (hákarl) was buried in the ground, giving it a good rot (which partially removed ammonia from it); lamb eggs (hrutspungar), as well as blood sausage were soaked in soury milk whey, and fish was dried directly in the wind. Sheep’s head was also made cold – for those who did not dare to look food in the eyes.

It should be said that some especially “fragrance” types of food are taken down with a strong alcoholic drink Brennivín, which, thanks to the state’s attempt to stop alcoholism by introducing a black label, received the “popular” name “Black Death”. Perhaps it is the drinking of this bitter moonshine that makes the consumption of other treats possible and makes a modest Icelander go to dance or tan the well-known "Here is the frost in Frawney / the blood chills in the veins ..."

The most pleasant thing about the holiday is that it does not fall on one day, but is celebrated by different parts of Iceland at different times for several weeks, which allows those who wish to plunge into Torrablood to arrange a whole festive marathon, traveling from one rural club to another.
Unless, of course, you like the ammonia smell of the shark and the cumin bitterness of the Black Death.