Paper short abstract:

Drawing on fieldwork in Iceland and among Icelanders abroad, archival material and media images, this paper will discuss extreme food performances as, often ironic, negotiations of the ambiguous boundaries between in-groups and outsiders, human and non-human animals, in and out of place.

Paper long abstract:

We are what we eat, materially, but also in the sense of identification (Brubaker and Cooper 2000), which so often elevates the near-obsolete to the status of heritage. Such processes may add value to the unviable (Kirshenblatt-Gimblett 1995) but why do certain performances of food culture seem to push the boundaries of the acceptable, or tolerable? Whether sitting face to face with a singed sheep‘s head, wolfing down a ram‘s soured testicles or getting the shocking whiff of fermented shark or skate, many Icelandic food traditions, and performances there-of, can be considered extreme (even by locals to say nothing of visitors). On the tamer end, the proliferation of homemade blood pudding and liver sausage may express an engagement with the precarity of past generations. In uncertain times nostalgic expressions of pastness may provide a sense of security, thrift, or sustainability. On the wilder side, carnivores and pescatarians test the limits of contemporary sensibilities. Yet, such performances may form an integral part of the cohesion of in-group congregations on festive holidays, such as Thorlak‘s Mass and the midwinter thorrablót. They are also part of the reflexive liminality of transnational processes through immigration, marketing and (last chance) tourism. Narratives related to hunting, farming, fishing and food processing also remind us how these practices feed on other-than-human entities, animal and microbial, both literally and figuratively. The playfulness of these performances also suggests a sense of irony common among those who are faced with uncertainty and unwelcome contradictions (Huber and Fernandez 2001).

Paper short abstract:

Rancid, thick, nutritious: all words that Newfoundlanders and Labradorians of varying ages have recently used to describe cod liver oil. Once a required medicinal ailment for schoolchildren, it is now viewed as a relic of a past rife with harsh climate, malnourishment, and economic uncertainty.

Paper long abstract:

This paper explores how the tradition and ritual of taking cod liver oil for medicinal and health purposes in the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador (NL) has contributed to the cultural fabric and foundation of multiple generations. At one time, putrid in taste, cod liver oil represented a prideful, regional identity associated with natural, economic resources (cod fish) and hope for a stronger, nourishing future. Contemporary reflections of the fishy tonic reflect stories passed down from elders and a collective mourning (while not always enjoyed) for something that was once integral to the region’s narrative and identity.

I ask: how do collective memories of children retching at the very thought of the yellow, greasy oil or throwing the fish oil-filled glass bottles against buildings in revolt of having to take it contribute to the performance of NL’s cultural identity? Younger generations of NLers recall hearing folk songs about cod liver oil on regional radio stations and hearing stories told by their parents and grandparents. Why has cod liver oil become so deeply embedded in the province’s narrative, as a thing of the past, much like the cod fishery itself?

Paper short abstract:

In a study of #Swedengate, about the custom to not invite children’s playmates to partake in the family dinner, the custom was described as something typically Swedish, like fermented herring. The aim is to explore liminal food practices linked to the meal, rather than food as substance.

Paper long abstract:

The paper builds on a study of #Swedengate, about the custom to not invite children’s playmates to partake in the family dinner. This denial of commensality was described by one of the informants as something typically Swedish, like surströmming (fermented herring). The dinner practices of Swedish households turned out to be as exotic and dividing as the custom to eat surströmming, causing anger, despair and frustration for person that was unfamiliar with the practice. Based on a questionnaire about Swedengate with 400 responses, the paper discusses how a custom can be interpreted in different ways by the people that takes or took part in the custom. In an attempt to find the roots of the practice, the emotional character of meals and meals as tools for silent communication, where the tacit knowledge of practices may lead to unintended but hard cultural clashes, become illuminated. The aim is to explore liminal food practices linked to the meal, rather than to food as substance, and how such liminal food practices may evoke conflicts around nationality and cultural heritage.

Paper short abstract:

The paper will draw on interviews with museum professionals in Norway to discuss disseminations of traditional Sámi blood food within a heritage context. How is blood food understood within a museum setting? To whom might it appear as liminal? How can such dissemination contribute to its survival?

Paper long abstract:

Food can be seen as central to what has been termed a sensory revolution within the humanities and social studies during the last three decades. This has also made its mark within museums which have, during the twenty-first century, received critique for privileging a single-sensory visitor experience based predominantly on sight. Consequently, multisensory engagements are increasingly seen as important in many museums. In alignment with this, many museums use food as an important means of attracting visitors, where the presentation and sharing of more everyday practices such as food and foodways is seen as important because it is “alive”, it is more a cultural practice than “still heritage”.

This paper will discuss the role food can play as heritage within a museum setting through the example of traditional Sámi blood food and its current employment in heritage contexts. Within traditional Sámi foodways different dishes based on blood have been important both in terms of resource utilization and nutrition, as well as a cultural marker. However, this specific cuisine is now under threat of disappearing. Drawing on interviews with museum professionals from Norwegian museums focusing on Sámi heritage, this paper will explore the dissemination of traditional Sámi blood food, asking: how is food such as blood food understood within a museum setting, and to whom might it appear as liminal? How can museum dissemination contribute to its survival? And, how might it be employed to instigate multi-sensory and critical visitor experiences?

Paper short abstract:

Outdoor kitchens can be the place where food that is not suitable for cooking inside is prepared. It may be odor or ooze that disturbs too much. A dish that returns in outdoor kitchen cooking is cabbage pudding. Other food that is often eaten and cooked outside is fermented herring and crayfish.

Paper long abstract:

Its in to be out – smelly food and show off at the outdoor kitchen

When I asked in a questionnaire about "garden and summer life" whether there were any projects underway, more people than I expected answered that they planned or dreamed of an outdoor kitchen, several had also built outdoor kitchens. In the gardening and interior design groups I'm part of on Facebook, outdoor kitchens are often proudly displayed.

The boundary between inside and outside is loosened. The ideal in the garden is to create different rooms and the different parts of the garden get functions similar to those found indoors. Upholstered furniture and crystal chandeliers can be found in reports from greenhouses and conservatories, and the ball grills face competition from more permanent outdoor kitchens.

Why is there such a thing about outdoor kitchens? Is it about proximity to plants and nature, the dream of natural raw materials and sustainability? Is it about male projects and the longing to cast in concrete? Is it about the kitchen being status, something to show off on social media? Maybe it is about that outdoor kitchens can be the place where food that is not suitable for cooking inside is prepared. It may be odor or ooze that disturbs too much. A dish that returns in outdoor kitchen cooking is cabbage pudding. Other food that is often eaten and cooked outside is “surströmming” (fermented herring) and crayfish.

Paper short abstract:

In my presentation, I will share the results of an ethnographic study I conducted with a group of Polish freegans in 2021. I will focus on the question of how freegans transform (on a material as well as on a cultural level) the garbage obtained at dumpsters back into "normal" food.

Paper long abstract:

In my presentation, I will share the results of an ethnographic study I conducted in 2021 with a group of freegans in a major Polish city, Lodz. My main research problem was the matter of how freegans deal with the tension of violating culturally sanctioned categories of food and garbage - as food found in trash containers remains liminal for a while when it is recognized as edible, but it is still in a dirty environment. Using my own field material, Mary Douglas' structural theory of dirt and Julia Kristeva's concept of the abject, I will present how freegans' practices related to food gathering, processing, consumption and sharing, allow them to transform garbage obtained at dumpsters back into "normal" food. I will consider both material and social/cultural levels of this transformation process, as removing physical filth is not sufficient for get garbage-food out of liminal phase. I will also focus on showing the motivations for practicing freeganism, which go far beyond the economic issue of saving money, and are an act of manifestation against social inequalities, capitalism and the climate crisis - very important to freegans' self-identity.

Paper short abstract:

The paper aims to discuss tarkin - a dish of fermented fish from Northern Sudan. We trace the history of tarkin production and consumption in the "traditional" culture as well as in modern processes of heritagization and identity making. The paper is based on ethnographic experiences in 2022.

Paper long abstract:

The paper aims to discuss tarkin (meluha) - a dish of fermented fish from Northern Sudan (former Nubia) - that can be locally conceptualised as a social boundary between Nubians of riverain Northern Sudan and the others. One of the popular Nubian proverbs says "If you don't eat tarkin, you're not a Nubian". While for the Nubians preparing and eating tarkin is a matter of good taste, sophistication, generosity, traditionalism and health, the other Sudanese or even Nubians living in the diaspora treat it rather with disgust. We look at this regional Nubian cuisine as a symbol of belonging and identity. We trace the history of tarkin production and consumption in the "traditional" culture as well as in modern processes of heritagization and identity making. In this very contest we would like to raise the following questions: how particular food can be transformed into heritage food, what conceptualisations and performances accompany it and what do they really mean? Finally, what effect this kind of liminal food might have on the work of an ethnographer in the field? The paper is based on ethnographic experiences in Mahas region (Northern Sudan) in 2022.

Paper short abstract:

This paper will discuss the salty, pungent, fermented fish known as rakfisk. It will use marketing and media representations to show how the dish is coded as an extreme food, as heritage food, and as a (mostly) masculine arena of play and companionship.

Paper long abstract:

– When my dad opened the rakfisk bucket, the flies would fall dead from the walls!

In a feature article in the men’s magazine Vi Menn from 2008, the reporter visits a group of friends experimenting with making the most extreme version they can of the fermented fish known in Norway as rakfisk. The quote from the article can serve as an illustration of how much male companionship, male play and the connection between fishing and masculinities are present in how Norwegians conceive of the production and consumption of rakfisk today.

In this paper I will briefly present the history of rakfisk, before looking into its revival as a heritage food and an arena of Norwegian (rural) masculinities. While other heritage dishes may be more strongly coded as belonging to a female arena, or are simply seen as belonging to a particular region of the country, rakfisk is very often presented as a dish both produced by and eaten and enjoyed by tough men. Its salty and pungent flavour is definitely an acquired taste – but why is it male? The paper will discuss the phenomenon of gendering food, as well as the gendered aspects of extreme foodstuffs in general.