My Brush with Culinary Disaster
Alright, let me tell you about this one time I decided to try what some folks call a delicacy. Curiosity, you know? Sometimes it gets the better of you. I’d heard tales, seen videos online, about this thing called Surströmming. Fermented herring from Sweden. Sounded… interesting.
So, I actually went and found a can. Wasn’t easy, had to order it from some specialty place. It arrived, looking pretty harmless in its little tin. The instructions, or rather the warnings I found online, were pretty clear: open this thing outdoors. And maybe underwater. I figured outdoors was good enough. Took it out to the backyard, placed it on an old table, grabbed a can opener.
The Moment of Truth (and Horror)
I punctured the lid. Hoooo boy. Let me tell you, the stories don’t do it justice. It wasn’t just a smell; it was an assault. Like a garbage dump, mixed with rotten eggs, mixed with something uniquely foul that I can’t even describe. It was thick, almost visible. The can hissed, releasing this pressurized horror gas. I genuinely recoiled, almost dropped the thing.
Inside? It looked as bad as it smelled. Greyish, mushy-looking fish swimming in this murky brine. Not exactly appetizing. But I’d come this far, right? Had to try it. I’d read you’re supposed to eat it properly, not just straight from the can. So I got some stuff ready:
- Tunnbröd (that thin Swedish flatbread)
- Boiled potatoes, sliced
- Chopped red onions
- Sour cream
I carefully fished out a small piece of the herring, rinsed it slightly like some suggested (didn’t help the smell much), and assembled a little wrap. Potatoes, onion, sour cream, and the tiniest sliver of the fish.
The Taste Test and Immediate Regret
I took a deep breath (of fresh air, away from the can!) and took a bite. Oh. My. God. The taste was… intense. Incredibly salty, overwhelmingly pungent, with that fermented flavour just dominating everything. It wasn’t just fishy; it was like the ghost of a fish that had died badly and then decomposed. The texture was soft, almost disintegrating.
I managed to swallow that first tiny bite, mostly out of sheer willpower. Tried a second, smaller piece. Nope. Couldn’t do it. My gag reflex was screaming. That flavour coated my entire mouth, my throat, everything. It felt like it was seeping into my soul.
Had to dispose of the can like it was hazardous waste. Double-bagged it, took it straight to the outside bin. Washed my hands about ten times, still felt like I could smell it. The taste lingered for hours, no matter what I ate or drank afterwards.
So, yeah. For me? Definitely the worst food in the world. I’m sure some people genuinely enjoy it, acquire the taste, whatever. But that experience? Once was more than enough. Never again. Some culinary adventures are best left unexplored. This was one of them. Stick to burgers, folks. Stick to burgers.
