Wednesday 27 August 2003

Pic of the day: Bjelland's fish balls in power! Well, that's what it says. Actually they seem to be floating in salt water, but what do I know about gastronomic vocabulary? What I do know is that fish balls is a very Norwegian food, and it does not taste like bread with jam at all.

Fishball day

I have eaten bread with jam for a week. OK, a few of those were cheese bread with jam, but there wasn't really much cheese. Anyway, today I caved in to my protein hunger. I bought a box of fish balls.

It is, I trust, a well known fact that fish don't have balls. So you have probably already figured out that I am talking about a food similar to meat balls, but made of fish. That is not far off. They are made from the muscles of white fish, finely ground and mixed with potato starch and milk and a tiny amount of spices. The resulting dough is made into balls and cooked; when done right, they remain very white, looking much like hard-boiled eggs after the shell is peeled away. Not quite as smooth texture, but there is a superficial resemblance. Another difference is that there is no golden core; it is fish ball all the way through. The taste is mild and slightly fishy. They contain 7.5% protein, 6% carbohydrates and 0.5% fat.

The problem is, they come in boxes of 800 gram, 550 gram fish balls and the rest water. This is great for a moderately sized family, but for a single office worker it is way too much to eat in one day. This did not keep me from trying, though. I had to give it up eventually, and was unable to eat or drink much of anything for the rest of the day. Then acid reflux kept me from sleeping until near 3 in the night. Yay for family sized canned food. Now I remember why I don't buy those.

(Insert your own rant about how society is made for the family of 1950 even though a large number of us now are single for decades or indeed all our adult life.)

***

Apart from eating fish balls, I necessarily had to walk to the shop where I bought them, half an hour's walk away. In the morning and evening, when it was not too bright in the room, I played Morrowind. I have made a habit of saving the game before talking to my Morrowind girlfriend. If I could have done that in real life, I might have been married by now. (OK, not really, but it would have been a nearer miss than now.) Since none of us has that luxury, I guess I should facilitate the process by telling my younger readers that in real life, it is not a good idea to say "But what if the kids got my looks and your brain?"