At this point in my life, I would be pretty open to it if someone called me a foodie. I take pleasure in eating and trying new foods. So when we headed over to Iceland, I was on the hunt for some good local fare.

A bit of light research led me to believe that the following food selections were Icelandic delicacies: hot dogs, ice cream, puffin, whale and fermented shark.

Out of that list, I was really not okay eating puffin, because I mainly wanted to adopt one, not eat one. Once my uncle gave us a puffin for Christmas. Sounds really cool, right? Except for when you’re a child and think you’re really getting a puffin. Not only didn’t we get a puffin, just the paperwork to one, the last time our puffin was spotted was a few years before we got him. So I’m pretty sure my puffin ownership was over a dead puffin. I digress though, since this is a post about food. But let’s kick it off with my experience of eating puffin.