party time!

Over the weekend I went to my first Real Icelandic afternoon birthday party, held at the function hall of the church where I sing. One of the guys in the choir was having a stórafmæli (big birthday), the special word for those birthdays when you reach a decade mark. The event was Pure Iceland, down to the birthday boy's attire- the traditional Icelandic getup with the paired line of silver buttons marching down his vest (very dashing!).

This was an afternoon cakes'ncoffee party, with psychedelic green tablecloths, flowered napkins, and proper cups and saucers (this is genteel living, people!). For warmups, there were the traditional flatkökur wedges topped with closely overlapped slices of hangikjöt or smoked salmon. When sufficiently limber from these appetizers, there were cakes, oh so many cakes to attack, cakes looking like they were created by the family of princess and the pea fame if they had gone into the confectionery business instead of being all boring and royal. These were sturdy layers of cake interlaced with mixed fruit, gobs of whipped cream (the real stuff- no rediwhip, coolwhip, or any other sorry goo), topped with more fruit and possibly a layer of marzipan. This was eaten with a sea of coffee or appelsín for the kids. The really seasoned professionals ate the hangikjöt at the same time as the cake, intermixing the smoked flavor with the dripping sweetness.

After we were all half comatose from the sugar, there were speeches, reminiscing, and then since the choir was almost fully present, we sang a few songs. By then the champagne had been busted out, and although our tunefulness might have suffered as a result, the spirit was certainly jolly. By then it was getting on towards suppertime, so people began to rattle off the "takk fyrir mig"s and disperse into the tempestuous spring day soon after that.

Birthdays are serious stuff here- as the birthday child it's your responsibility to provide your people at work with an afternoon cake-break, and failing to do so remains fixed in their minds. I was away in Holland on my birthday last year, and some folks are still keeping tabs on my sugar-provision failure. So, my advice to all you would-be residents of Iceland- don't forget the cake!