Fermented shark, known in Iceland as hákarl, tastes like an intensely pungent, fishy cheese with a sharp ammonia bite that hits your nose before it ever reaches your tongue. The smell is the defining feature: a wave of ammonia so strong that first-timers often gag before taking a bite. The actual flavor, once you push past that wall of smell, is milder than you’d expect, with a dense, chewy texture and a lingering aftertaste that sits somewhere between a very ripe blue cheese and dried fish.
The Smell Versus the Taste
Most people who try hákarl describe the smell as the real challenge. The dominant compound responsible for that punch is trimethylamine, the same chemical that gives old fish its distinctive reek, but concentrated far beyond anything you’ve encountered at a fish counter. Lab analysis of hákarl has identified at least thirteen volatile compounds, including alcohols, sulfur-containing molecules, and phenols, all layering on top of the trimethylamine to create something genuinely unlike any other food.
The taste itself is surprisingly subdued by comparison. The flesh has a firm, slightly rubbery chew and a deep fishiness that’s salty, savory, and faintly sour. Some people detect a mild sweetness. The ammonia flavor is there, but it registers more as a sharp tingle on the tongue than an overwhelming burn. If you’ve ever eaten a washed-rind cheese like Époisses or Limburger, you already have a rough reference point for the gap between an alarming smell and a more complex, almost enjoyable flavor underneath.
Why It Tastes This Way
Greenland shark flesh is toxic when fresh. The meat contains extremely high concentrations of a compound called trimethylamine oxide (TMAO) and urea, which the shark uses to regulate fluid balance in deep, cold Arctic waters. Eating the fresh meat causes an intoxicating, disorienting effect so well known in Greenland that locals historically called a drunk person “shark-sick.” Dogs that ate fresh shark scraps were described the same way.
Fermentation and drying break down these toxins into safer byproducts. The process takes roughly 12 to 13 weeks total. First, the shark meat is buried in a shallow pit or placed in a perforated container and left to ferment for seven to eight weeks. During this stage, bacteria dominated by species from the Firmicutes group go to work, breaking down proteins and converting TMAO into trimethylamine. That bacterial activity is what generates the ammonia smell and the complex savory flavor. After fermentation, the meat is hung in open-air drying sheds for about five more weeks, where it loses moisture and firms up into its final texture.
Two Cuts, Two Experiences
Hákarl comes from two parts of the shark, and they taste noticeably different. The belly meat, called glerhákarl, is softer, chewier, and more pungent. It has a reddish color and a stronger ammonia presence. The body meat from the flank, called skyrhákarl, is drier, whiter, and milder, with a texture closer to firm cheese. If you’re trying hákarl for the first time and want the less intense version, the white body meat is the easier starting point.
How It’s Traditionally Served
You won’t encounter hákarl as a main course. It’s served in tiny cubes speared on toothpicks, more like a dare-sized appetizer than a meal. The small portion is intentional. Even Icelanders who enjoy hákarl treat it as a strong-flavored delicacy, not something you eat in large quantities.
The traditional pairing is a shot of brennivín, an Icelandic caraway-flavored spirit sometimes called “Black Death” for its stark black label. The brennivín serves a practical purpose: its sharp, herbal burn cuts through the ammonia aftertaste and resets your palate. Some people find the combination surprisingly pleasant, with the spirit’s anise-like warmth balancing the funk of the shark. Hákarl is most commonly eaten during Þorrablót, a midwinter festival celebrating traditional Icelandic foods, though tourist shops and specialty food markets in Reykjavik sell it year-round.
What First-Timers Usually Get Wrong
The most common mistake is breathing in deeply right before taking a bite. The trimethylamine in hákarl is far more overwhelming as a smell than as a taste, so the closer you hold it to your nose, the worse the experience. Seasoned hákarl eaters recommend putting the cube in your mouth quickly without lingering over the aroma, chewing a few times, and focusing on the flavor rather than the smell. Pinching your nose isn’t cheating; it genuinely changes the experience from unbearable to manageable.
Another misconception is that hákarl is “rotten.” The fermentation is a controlled bacterial process, not decomposition. The bacteria involved are specific strains that produce enzymes responsible for breaking down proteins and developing the characteristic aroma. It’s the same principle behind aged cheese, kimchi, or fish sauce, just pushed to a far more extreme endpoint. The final product is microbiologically stable and safe to eat, which is the entire point of the centuries-old preparation method: turning a poisonous deep-sea shark into something that can be stored and consumed through a long Icelandic winter.
Nutritional Profile
Shark meat in general is high in protein, typically ranging from 24 to 37 grams per 100 grams, and extremely low in fat, usually under half a gram per 100 grams. The fat that is present tends to be rich in omega-3 fatty acids, including DHA. Given the tiny serving sizes of hákarl, though, you’re not eating it for the nutrition. A few toothpick-sized cubes contribute negligible calories or protein to your day. It’s a cultural experience, not a health food.