I have a rule that I tend to live by - I'll try anything ONCE. Even if it involves my greatest fear - heights - I'll give it a shot. I might not be the most comfortable (just ask my dad to reenact my first and only hot air balloon trip with him), but at least I can say "I've done that, thankyouverymuch". So this weekend was no exception.
Early in the summer my mother-in-law had told me of this very VERY typical Swedish 'dish' called surstromming. Now, most swedes who are reading this right now are probably curling their toes as they know exactly what I am talking about. Basically, surstromming is rotten fish. Literally, can bulging, bad smelling, rotten fish. I had just recently learned that the word 'sur' is sour in Swedish and knowing this certainly did not add any additional interest into me trying it. Now, my husband is not a fish eater so when he said he had never tried it, I didn't take much notice. But then, when he insist that he NOT be around when I do try it, I started to wonder. A few others had described it to me as well, but the one that really caught my ear was the description from Jan, my mother-in-laws' boyfriend. I won't tell you what he said about it, but what I will tell you is that Jan is the ultimate Swede (and a true American lover too) and the fact that he doesn't even really like this dish began to make me nervous.
But, alas, I had promised her that I would at least TRY it. So Saturday afternoon, I loaded Reagan into the car and drove to the summer home, alone. Knowing that I might not have much else to eat that day, I stopped at McDonald's for their Quarter Pounder Meal. Once we arrived at the home, I set Reagan up on her leash and began reading my book. Around 7pm Gunilla and Jan arrived. She immediately began to prepare the ingredients for our dinner and I slammed a campari and OJ (along with two glasses of red wine prior to their arrival). Once the additional ingredients were ready we were summoned into the little house for the opening of the surstromming. Now, Gunilla claims that she has a secret weapon - she opens the ROTTEN fish under water so the smell doesn't overwhelm you, the house, the neighbors, etc.. At first, it worked. I didn't smell anything. Then suddenly - WHAM!!! Not only did the smell cause a slight gag but it literally over took all of my nasal passages, leading into my throat. You know that lingering, burning sensation you get when you smell ammonia? Well, that's kind of how this fish lingered in my head. But, I was determined not to be deterred. I've watched enough Fear Factor to know there is a lot worse out there that can be eaten. So we sat down to begin the assembly of the surstromming sandwich. It basically consists of crisp thin bread, sauteed onions, almond potatoes (similar to fingerling potatoes, but are found in the Nordic region), tons of butter and the surstromming. Now, the stromming fish alone is a smelly one. This is not a fish for the faint of heart, but to make it rotten - you gotta be kidding me. But, I was persistent. I wasn't going to let my name go down in shame. I wanted to represent all of America!!! (cue "Proud to be an American" by Lee Greenwood). So, I took a bite. I mean really, how bad could it be. I had loaded the sandwich down with so much potatoes, onion and butter you could barely even see the stromming. But my oh my - you could taste it. At first, I pushed through - helped with a couple of shots of aquavit - but then, I came to a bigger stromming bite. And with that, I was done. I had managed to eat 1/2 of the sandwich - more than most Swedes could probably claim doing - but, in Jan's own words, I was a true Viking now!!!! HA!!
If you curious about surstromming at all, here's the
link.
Now I can say I tried it and I don't like it! :-)
Me, Indy and Tee at the Evans Ranch
Look what I found in the grocery store? Bulgarian sheep's cheese!!! Very exciting for the 1/4 bulgarian! So I just HAD to buy it and I just HAD to photograph it and taste it. It has the texture of a feta cheese but the taste is a bit different. At first, you think it's similar to feta, but as you continue to chew, it becomes stronger in flavor - almost spicy. A little research on the internet a few seconds later, and I discover that the consider this 'brined' sheep's cheese. And that defines this cheese perfectly. It's milder cousin, the feta, doesn't hold a candle to this cheese. I ran across a few recipes with this cheese so I'll be defnitely making these this week and posting them for you to try.
Caden Myers Evans
So, it's been a while...I know. I could give you a whole bunch of excuses, but they would be just that - excuses. But, my cousin Derek posted a message yesterday that made me remember that people do read this blog, every once in a while, so I should try and update every once in a while, right?
Above the Blue Mountains - the only way to see Australia is in your business suit, by the way!
The flying foxes - whatever, they look like bats to me!
The gratuitous Opera House view - did you know the acoustics in there apparently stink?
A kangaroo - we went to a open zoo in Adelaide but I was too scared to pet anything for fear of death
The koalas - the haze is from the eucalyptus trees that surround this area. You can hold them as well when it isn't too hot, but apparently their so lazy that they pee on themselves so it's not necessarily the most pleasant experience.
The walk along the water not more than 3 minutes from our apartment - so nice!!!
Recognize this dork? Loving her tennis ball at Daniel's (Anders best friend since he was very little!) summer home in the Archipelago.
Sunset on Horse Pink (Daniel's summer home in the Archipelago)
Of course, Reagan enjoys lots of things she shouldn't including people food, so rather than fight with her on who gets who's sandwich, we leashed her up to a nearby tree in the shade. Let's just say she had some words for us while we were eating! After lunch, we proceeded on the trail and found an open area for Reagan to play ball. I had bought her brand new tennis balls the day before and had kept them in their box in her bag all day. Since she hadn't seen them yet, she didn't know they were there. What's so amazing about her (and her obsession with tennis balls) is that as soon as Anders had taken them out of the box and put them in his pockets, she wouldn't take her eye off his jacket the ENTIRE TIME. Anyway, after playing ball for a bit, we proceeded home. Of course, being my mother's daughter, I had to talk to a man about a horse so I decided to walk just a bit into the woods to do so. As I am walking I hear the pine needles rustling around me, but this isn't an animal taking steps rustling. No siree, this is a constant rustling, like something SLITHERING across them. Just at that moment, realizing I could be hearing what I think I am hearing, I look down and see a gray snake slithering away from me. I decided I didn't want that horse and quickly turned around and made my way back to Anders and Reagan. I thought that would be the end of my Swedish snake tail, er tale, but of course it couldn't be. Just about 5 minutes later we all three came across another snake - sunning himself and waiting for Mrs. Right to come along. Ugg - no one seems to know if these gray snakes are poisonous or not but I have a feeling they are most likely related to the grass snake family as they were quite smooth with no additional markings.
Sunday was just as gorgeous and warm and we enjoyed our first (and last) brunch on the patio. Unfortunately, our new apartment does not have a patio and from the sounds of my whining on Sunday, you would have thought I was NEVER going to be outside again. Did someone say I was a little dramatic?! HA!
What brainiac in the marketing department thought "yes, this is an excellent catch phrase for our cat food!"?!?!? 
