Úlfr GrÃmsson lumbers into the dark, noisy tavern. He is famished from a long day of seafaring and battle, and thirsty for a good jug of mead. Úlfr wearily lugs his Viking gear and sack into the tavern’s back room, carefully wipes the blood off the end of his spear, and hangs it on the wall along with his hatchet. (His wife has nagged him a thousand times about bringing dirty implements of battle into the house. He knows better than to raise the ire of the tavern keeper’s watchful wife.) He leans his shield against the wall. Úlfr heaves a sigh of relief as he lays down his load and takes a seat on the bench at his favorite table.
The tavern keeper quickly appears with a menu. He inquires about the welfare of Úlfr’s wife Tórfa, and about his travels at sea. Úlfr exchanges pleasantries and is soon perusing the menu.
Úlfr chooses the boar stew, a warm, satisfying meal at the end of a long day. The tavern keeper quickly brings him a mug of mead and a bowl of cabbage soup to start with. (The tavern keeper has learned from experience that Hungry Vikings tend to get peevish.) The soup is sweetened with honey and fortified with meat stock. The cabbage is buttery and warm.
Next comes the boar stew, along with warm, coarse bread and creamy farmer’s cheese. Úlfr hungrily digs into the stew with a spoon. The stew is a mess of flavors that mingle in his mouth. The boar is gamey and fresh, the prunes are soft and sweet, the mushrooms are earthy. The chunks of parsnip surprise him, their tuberous, grassy flavor deepening with each bite. Strong, dependable parsnips, rich, grounded, mushrooms, and sweet, plump prunes. “Like Tórfa,” says Úlfr, laughing to himself. He eats a big spoonful of stew with tangy sour cream and lingonberries, and thinks of home.
The tavern keeper appears and takes away the empty plates. He soon returns with dessert, prepared by the tavern keeper’s wife. A long board with three earthenware bowls is placed before Úlfr: forest berry compote, curd cake with nuts, and whipped cream. Úlfr wipes dribbled stew off his beard with the tablecloth and finishes his mead. The sight of the red berries and sweet whipped cream have piqued his hunger again. He scoops up a spoonful of soft, sweet berries, then crumbly, nutty cake, and airy whipped cream, and devours it. He closes his eyes as the textures and flavors blend in his mouth. Úlfr repeats the ritual while a minstrel plays a lute and sings.
Belching loudly, Úlfr stretches his arms and heaves himself off the bench, tossing his payment to the tavern keeper. He yawns and gathers his pack, then takes his hatchet and spear off their hanging place on the wall. He picks up his shield and makes his way towards the door. Stepping out into the cold night, Úlfr heads home to Tórfa.
Sjätte Tunnan
Stora Nygatan 43
111 27 Stockholm
Tel: 08-440 09 19
