Reykjavík Grapevine - 21.06.2019, Blaðsíða 6

Blóðmör and its
cousin, lifrarpylsa,
are both typical of
countries where
the going is tough
and using every
part of an animal
is a necessity.
Slátur, as they are
known collectively,
is made by mixing
animal products
that aren’t par-
ticularly enjoyable
to consume—of-
fal, blood, stomach
lining—and com-
bining them with
suet, oats, and, if
you’re lucky, the
scantest sprinkle
of seasoning.
So what do you
do when there’s
a skin bag of in-
nards that needs
tasting? Give it to
the intern.
Luckily, this in-
tern comes from
a place where
slátur has been
exalted to the po-
sition of national
dish. In Scotland,
haggis is a much
lusted-after
meal, and we also
regularly enjoy
‘black pudding,’
our version of
blóðmör, as part
of the traditional,
artery-clogging
Scottish breakfast.
We’ve discov-
ered the trick to
enjoying these
questionable
foods is to fry
them. Stick all of
that fried stuff
on a plate, pour
yourself a mug of
tea, and bam, your
hangover is cured!
The Icelandic way
to cook blóðmör
is to either boil
it and serve with
mashed pota-
toes—as a Scot,
I can get behind
this—or slice it up
and fry it sprinkled
with sugar. Sorry
Iceland, but you’re
on your own there.
I went with the
way I know best, a
full Scottish fry-up:
eggs, bacon, to-
mato, mushroom
and, of course,
the blóðmör. You
know what? It’s
bloody delicious.
If any purists want
to come after me,
go ahead. Our
heritage can only
survive when em-
braced and adapt-
ed. I even made
baked beans even
though I despise
them—tradition
must be re-
spected, after all.
Fry your blóðmör
for breakfast, and
you won’t regret
it. Sláinte—I mean
skál.
Bl
óð
m
ör
The party leading Iceland’s coalition
government—the Left-Greens—has, as
its name implies, a very strong emphasis
on environmental issues in general and
tackling the climate crisis in particular.
Rhetoric from the party’s leadership
reflects this, whether from party chair
Prime Minister Katrín Jakobsdóttir or
Minister for the Environment Guðmun-
dur Ingi Guðbrandsson.
However, being part of a coalition
government, the Left-Greens are not
the only party leading the government,
and some of the government’s budget-
ing decisions raise questions about how
great a priority the climate crisis is to
them.
Going green
Apart from policy platforms, the Prime
Minister has been publicly outspoken
on the importance of stemming the
climate crisis. She reiterated this in
her speech during Independence Day
celebrations on June 17th, saying in
part, “The government has put forward
a clear vision of Iceland being a carbon
neutral country no later than 2040, and
that Iceland will meet its international
obligations in reducing greenhouse gas
emissions.”
The Minister for the Environment
has also signed a statement of willing-
ness to this effect. But how does govern-
ment policy measure up to these strong
words?
The budget
speaks for itself
How these goals will be met is fairly
mysterious, given the priorities set by
the government’s own budget. While
they have allotted some 6.8 billion ISK
towards reducing greenhouse gases,
91 billion ISK will be spent to expand
Keflavík International Airport; strik-
ingly more tax money going towards the
expansion of the site of one of Iceland’s
biggest producers of greenhouse gases
than is going towards reducing emis-
sions.
In point of fact, eight of the top ten
most polluting companies are in heavy
industry; the other two are Icelandair
and the now-defunct WOW Air.
Despite the Left-Greens’ long record
of opposition to heavy industry, and its
renewed enthusiasm for putting the
brakes on greenhouse gas emissions,
how the government will deal with the
companies that are responsible for the
lion’s share of pollution still remains to
be seen.
A Change In The Weather
Climate crisis shines light on
words versus actions
Words:
Andie Fontaine

Photo:
Art Bicnick
Words:
Josie Gaitens

Photo:
Art Bicnick
First
With a minimum age of 20 to buy any
alcoholic beverages, Iceland has
one of the highest drinking ages in
Europe. Our fairly miffed 19-year-old
intern asked historian Stefán Páls-
son why this age is so high.
“The drinking age in Iceland has,
historically, been largely linked to
the voting age. When prohibition—
except for beer—ended in 1935,
the drinking age was set at 21, in
line with the new voting age, which
had been reduced from 25 to 21 the
previous year. In 1968, the voting age
was lowered to 20, and the drinking
age with it. However, when the voting
age was reduced to 18 in 1984, the
drinking age remained at 20. This was
largely because Iceland had a signifi-
cant teenage drinking problem in the
1980s, and it seemed unwise to make
it easier for teenagers to drink. It was
also noted at the time that several
other Nordic countries had a drink-
ing age of 20.
“There are also cultural factors at
play. In Iceland today, it’s generally
accepted that teenagers will drink
at 18, especially in a domestic set-
ting. The comparatively high drinking
age is therefore aimed less at stop-
ping 18 year olds drinking, than at
stopping them providing 16 year olds
with booze, since drinking at younger
than 18 is much more frowned upon.”
So what now?
A poll in 2013 revealed that 56%
of Icelanders opposed reducing the
drinking age. While some continue to
question the law, pointing out that
people in Iceland could be legally
married at 18 but not have a drink
of champagne at their reception, it
doesn’t look like the drinking age will
be changing any time soon. So don’t
try to drink in Iceland if you’re under
20. If nothing else, your wallet will
thank you.
ASK A
Historian
Q: Why Is The Drinking Age
In Iceland So High?
6 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 10— 2019
FOOD OF ICELAND
NEWS
Words: Felix Robertson
Photo: Alisa Kalyanova
The PM is feeling the heat
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