I am thinking of halibut. Thick, white, arctic fish would be pleasant this evening. Last night I cooked some rock cod, which isn't even cod, never mind arctic. It was pleasant with salt and pepper, rosemary and oil, but it was not like eating stórlúða, and it was certainly not like eating stórlúða as carefully prepared by a good friend in a smallish kitchen in Vesturbær with cool white wine on the table and a bottle of Orkney whiskey waiting in the cabinet.
Supposedly created by Christ long after Creation proper, the halibut has many names, some of which nod to its associations with holiness. The Latin name is in another class and particularly charming: Hippoglossus hippoglossus. But here I will list the Faroese names, which seem to exist in particular profusion:
Kalvi
Agnaspjað
Búkalvi
Fellifiskur
Felliskalvi
Flasa
Fløta
Flundra
Geiraspjað
Geiraspjørr
Grábein
Hveita
Kalvaspjað
Klovningur
Kølva
Kveita
Legukalvi
Legukølva
Lógvi
Nebbasnubba
Spjað
Spjaldur
Spragga
Sprøka
Stybbingur
Stývingur
I remember eating stórlúða and being interrupted, briefly, when the telephone rang. My companion excused himself and took up the receiver, recognized the caller and spoke rapid Faroese into the mouthpiece. Could he call him back? He was just eating dinner with a guest. I listened, enjoying the texture of the fricatives, balancing the fork on my fingers.
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My parents in law called the other day. They had been out in the boat, and caught am 18kg halibut. I'm sure they will spandere a meal upon their return. Personally, I find poached halibut a little dry, but I like it garnished with leek softened in butter.
I will drink your health.
I thank you!
Butter is essential to the halibut experience, I find. So is not overcooking the thing. Enjoy your fish.
I LOVE the halibut. It's Latin name is delightful; thank you for enlightening me. Perhaps sometime we could eat some halibut together.
Also, today is St. Christopher's saint day in the Eastern Church. Arf.
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