Today ended much as it began; with
herring. Ended with my first personal flirtation with preparing the
fresh fish – a strong-smelling but delightful tryst, deliciously
endowed with liberal amounts of hot butter and garlic. Began more
timidly – those of you who like adventure food will agree – with
a twist in flavor on the much-loved pickled fish. (There are no less
than 5 flavors of pickled herring at the bodega-grocery the train
station; at the full-scale one in the middle of town, I stopped
counting at 8. The jars further down the shelf had begun to include
mussels, shrimps and other sea-bits, and I could no longer in good
conscience categorize them as herrings.) Though mustard, and lemon,
look like nice flavorscapes to accompany the fish, I started my
Swedish pickled herring perusal with dill. Dill is ubiquitous here,
tucked into all kinds of sauces and salady things and herb mixes.
(I'd even be willing to insist I've seen sprigs in some floral
arrangements, if you need a good anecdote.) In fact, if you're going
to have a seasoned foodstuff here, I've been assured it would be safe
to bet it will be seasoned with dill. Or the occasional juniper
berry.
Much of the spice-box I suspended
between wooly pants and wooly sweaters on the flight over was
designed to outweigh this whole dill-obsession. Heavy on the dried
peppers (ancho, chipotle, cayenne and aleppo), but also on a couple
of mixes that simply cannot be easily swayed to the Forces of Sweet.
Because dill most certainly can. Yep, sweet pickled herring is what I
ate this morning, and as much as I enjoy pickled herring –and
flaunting the sweet-breakfast convention in general – it was kind
of weird.
In between herrings, then, was a super
mundane day of travel-city-logistics: learning how the public
transportation card is filled with money (equaling more rides),
acquiring a Hosteling International membership (equaling more beds),
and finding an easy-to-read and cheap wrist watch (equaling,
counterintuitively, a little less free time). The sum total of the
day: increased fish quotient in my belly, and Increased Preparedness
for Traveling.
Tomorrow, its back to oogling the magic
of narrow, colorful cities pushing their ways up through the rocky
floors mossy forests – we're going to Uppsala (say it Oop-sala)!
The word of the day is Herring: Sill (seel). And sillar (seel-ahr, that's more than one herring) are a kind of fisk.
