Iceland review - 2016, Side 90

88 ICELAND REVIEW
T R A D I T I O N
liver, liver sausage as we know it today
wasn’t introduced until the 19th century.
The blood pudding is older, though.
Slátur is produced commercially in
Iceland but there’s also a strong tradition
for making it at home; for generations
families have gathered and contribut-
ed to the production of this iron-rich
and inexpensive food. “This was my
role,” my grandfather of 85 reveals as
he’s chopping up the fat. As a boy, he
and his siblings helped their mother,
my great-grandmother, make slátur. “We
made heaps of it. It was inexpensive
food.” For his mother, a widow, this
was an economical way of feeding her
large family. “She boiled it in a huge
pot, which was otherwise used for the
laundry,” he elaborates. “She soured most
of it,” adds my aunt Gunna. Before the
arrival of freezers, slátur was commonly
soured (preserved in whey).
Although not as common as in my
granddad or dad’s youth, the slátur-mak-
ing tradition has persisted, regaining
popularity among young Icelanders after
the banking crisis in 2008. KEX Hostel
in downtown Reykjavík organizes a festi-
val where attendees learn about the tra-
dition. “Many people of my generation
have never made slátur. Nevertheless,
this is part of our culture, and it matters
to maintain this knowledge. Something
tells me that if we lose it, we will regret
it,” says Böðvar Guðjónsson, event man-
ager at KEX.
SEWING AND SQUEEZING
“This one is huge,” laughs Halla and
holds up the piece of sheep stomach
she’s sewing. “This one is very orig-
inal,” I add, showing the little trian-
gle-shaped stomach I’m working on.
“I’m not as ambitious as mom,” claims
my aunt Anna Kristín, who is cutting up
the sheep stomachs. “I’m trying to make
the most of them.” The sheep stomachs
are used as sausage skins. Now they have
mostly been replaced by synthetic skins
and have to be acquired specially. “So
grandma took great care when designing
the skins?” I ask. “Mom and grandma,”
responds Gunna. “It was like a religion to
them.” Anna Kristín adds, “They wanted
them to be as round as possible. They
were supposed to look good.”
Today, three of the six siblings and their
families are participating in making slátur
from eight lambs. “Mom used to take 20
From left: From an article in newspaper Þjóðviljinn in 1983. My grandmother, Bára Sigurðardóttir, shows her grandson Guðmundur Örn (six-years-
old at the time) how slátur is made; I demonstrate to my son Páll Ernir (almost three) how a sheep stomach is sewn.
Chopped-up fat ready to be mixed into the
crimson blóðmör batter with synthetic
sausage skins waiting to be filled.
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