Kiviak and its eggs taste like fermented blue cheese mixed with oily game meat, wrapped in a punch of ammonia. This dish, found in Greenland, is made by stuffing hundreds of whole auk birds into a sealskin and letting them ferment under heavy stones for months.
Eating it involves slicing into the sealskin, pulling out a bird, and sucking out the fermented meat and juices from the inside. The eggs, if present, carry an even more intense version of that flavor — salty, sour, pungent, and sharp, often triggering a strong physical reaction in first-time eaters.
TLDR
Kiviak tastes like a strong mix of blue cheese, rotten fish, and fermented meat soaked in seal fat. Its eggs add an even sharper sour bite. It’s eaten raw, cold, and directly out of the sealskin where it’s been fermenting for months. Locals either bite into the meat or suck the juices out, depending on texture.
What we will cover
- Why Kiviak even exists
- What makes the eggs different from the meat
- How Kiviak is actually made, step-by-step
- What it tastes like and smells like
- How locals and visitors eat it
- The science behind its fermentation
- Real reactions from people who’ve eaten it
- Its cultural importance
- Health concerns and risks
- Whether you should try it or avoid it
Why do people eat Kiviak in the first place?
Kiviak wasn’t created for taste—it was created to survive.
In northern Greenland, winter brings months of isolation, freezing temperatures, and little access to fresh food. Hunting becomes nearly impossible, and there are no vegetables to gather. Faced with these conditions, the Inuit developed a method to store nutrition through the harshest season.
The solution came from nature and necessity
Small seabirds called auks migrate in large numbers during warmer months. Locals figured out that if they packed these birds whole into a hollowed-out sealskin and sealed it with fat, the meat wouldn’t rot—it would ferment.
The fermentation preserved the food for months
Without oxygen, the birds’ own enzymes and bacteria began breaking down the flesh in a way that made it soft, safe, and edible. This method created a reliable food source in the cold months when everything else ran out.
Kiviak is eaten during winter and special events
It’s not a daily meal. Families typically bring it out for celebrations, such as weddings, birthdays, or after a successful hunt. Its importance is more about survival and tradition than daily nutrition.
The dish stands as a reflection of adaptation—how people made food last in a place where few options existed. For many, it’s not just about eating fermented birds. It’s about honoring the skills that kept their communities alive.
What makes Kiviak eggs even more intense?
Not all Kiviak batches contain eggs, but when they do, the experience reaches another level. This happens when female auks are gathered during nesting season. Some of these birds may carry underdeveloped or partially formed eggs inside their bodies. Once sealed inside the fermenting sealskin, the eggs undergo the same transformation as the meat.
The result is unlike anything else
The egg becomes a soft pouch with a firm outer membrane and a liquid interior. There’s no solid yolk—just a thick, sour, pungent fluid that builds pressure inside the sac.
The flavor hits fast and hard
It starts with a sharp ammonia-like sting, followed by a wave of sourness, salt, and something fishy and fatty at once. Some describe it as tasting like pickled liver soaked in vinegar and fermented anchovies.
There’s no chewing—just release
You bite into it, and the liquid explodes in your mouth. The texture and taste can overwhelm anyone not used to it.
While many outsiders struggle with it, some locals treat the eggs as a rare treat. They’re considered a special part of the Kiviak experience—an even deeper layer of flavor, history, and tradition. But for those unfamiliar, the shock is usually immediate.
How is Kiviak actually made step by step?
Making Kiviak is a time-tested process that requires precision, patience, and deep knowledge of the local climate. Every part of the method has purpose. Here’s how it’s traditionally done:
1. Catch around 300 to 500 auks
These small seabirds are hunted during summer while they’re abundant and easier to catch. Each one is about the size of a fat pigeon.
2. Prepare the sealskin
A freshly caught seal is skinned. The inside is scraped clean to remove any remaining tissue. Some fat is kept for sealing, but the rest is removed to prevent the meat from turning rancid.
3. Stuff the birds whole
Each auk is placed inside the sealskin without cleaning or gutting. That includes feathers, beaks, feet, bones—everything. The birds are packed tightly to minimize air pockets.
4. Seal the skin completely
Once filled, the opening is sewn shut with string or sinew. A thick layer of seal fat is spread across the seams to make the seal airtight.
5. Press it down with heavy stones
The skin is buried under a pile of rocks. This keeps animals away, pushes out air, and maintains consistent pressure during fermentation.
6. Ferment for 3 to 18 months
Depending on the climate, fermentation may take anywhere from a few months to over a year. Winter slows the process. Warmer conditions speed it up. During this time, the skin swells as gases build inside.
When the Kiviak is finally opened, the fermented birds are soft, rich in smell, and ready to eat by hand. The result depends entirely on timing, temperature, and sealing. One mistake can ruin the entire batch, which is why this dish is always made with care and passed down through skilled hands.
What does Kiviak actually taste like?
It’s intense, unapologetic, and not meant for the faint-hearted. For most people trying it the first time, the taste is overwhelming. There’s no mild introduction—just a flood of flavor and scent all at once.
Common comparisons include
• Anchovy paste mixed with moldy blue cheese
• Fermented game bird soaked in ammonia
• Oily meat with a sour, slightly metallic bite
The texture is soft and unstable
The meat falls apart easily. Some parts are gooey, while others are stringy or slippery. The bones often crumble when handled. Some eaters go straight in and chew the whole bird. Others pull meat away with their teeth and leave the rest behind.
The flavor coats your mouth
A single bite can flood your senses with salt, sourness, and a sharp tang that some describe as almost burning. This isn’t from spice, but from fermentation byproducts like ammonia.
The smell is the first test
Even before tasting it, the scent hits hard—often compared to a mix of sun-rotted seafood, urine, and spoiled eggs. For many, the smell alone triggers a gag reflex.
Despite all this, those who grow up eating it describe the taste as familiar, even comforting. For outsiders, it’s usually more of a challenge than a delicacy. Either way, Kiviak leaves a lasting impression after just one bite.
How do you eat Kiviak without throwing up?
For locals, it’s no big deal. They’ve grown up with the smell, the taste, and the texture. For them, it’s tied to family gatherings and cultural pride. But for visitors, it can be one of the most difficult foods to get through.
Here’s what people are usually told to do:
Eat it cold
Warming it up releases even more of the ammonia-heavy scent. Cold Kiviak is easier to handle for first-timers.
Start with a small bite
Don’t go all in. Just a tiny taste can give your body time to react. If it’s manageable, you can go for more.
Breathe through your mouth, not your nose
The smell is often worse than the flavor. Breathing through your nose while chewing can trigger a gag reflex. Keep your mouth open slightly and try not to inhale deeply.
Pair it with something milder
Locals sometimes eat it alongside dried fish or seal fat. These can mellow the harshest parts of the flavor and give your palate something else to focus on.
Eggs are another level
If the Kiviak batch includes eggs, they’re usually sucked out or swallowed whole. The texture and burst of liquid can be intense. Most visitors skip this part entirely.
Even with all these tips, Kiviak isn’t for everyone. But approaching it with respect and curiosity—rather than as a food challenge—can help you get through that first bite.
What’s happening scientifically during fermentation?
Kiviak’s transformation isn’t just tradition—it’s a complex biological process driven by natural enzymes, bacteria, and environmental control. Here’s what’s happening inside the sealskin during fermentation:
Enzymes inside the birds begin breaking down tissue
The birds are left whole, including their digestive organs. These organs release enzymes that slowly break down proteins and fats, softening the meat from the inside.
Lactic acid bacteria take over
In the oxygen-free environment inside the seal skin, beneficial bacteria—mainly lactic acid-producing strains—multiply. They lower the pH, making it harder for harmful bacteria to survive.
The seal fat forms a natural barrier
A thick layer of fat seals the skin and blocks out oxygen. This keeps the environment anaerobic, which is essential for safe fermentation. It also helps control moisture and temperature.
Ammonia and acids are released
As proteins break down, they release ammonia and other compounds. These act as preservatives but also give Kiviak its sharp, almost burning smell and flavor.
Temperature is everything
If it’s too warm, dangerous bacteria can grow. If it’s too cold, fermentation slows or stalls. Success depends on stable, cold conditions that only skilled locals know how to manage.
This method, while simple in appearance, is a precise and risky preservation system that works only when all elements come together. That’s why the process is trusted to experienced elders who can read the signs of a healthy batch.
What do real people say after tasting Kiviak?
Reactions split sharply between outsiders and locals.
Foreigners often focus on the shock
The smell hits first, and for many, it’s enough to turn their stomach. One common description from travelers is, “It smells like death.” But everyone has their own way of describing what they experienced.
Here’s what some have said
• A European traveler called the texture “soggy duck soaked in mop water.”
• A Japanese chef said it reminded him of old natto blended with fermented fish sauce.
• A Canadian woman recalled vomiting instantly after biting into a fermented egg.
Locals describe it in a different light
For those who grew up eating it, Kiviak is more than food—it’s fuel, tradition, and family pride. Some compare the taste to strong cheese, fermented sausage, or even smoked meat with a sour kick. The smell doesn’t bother them, and the flavor brings back memories.
To locals, it’s not extreme—it’s familiar
They often say it gives strength, warms the body in winter, and connects them to their roots. While outsiders may gag, locals appreciate the cultural and nutritional value. Taste is just one part of the experience. The meaning goes much deeper.
Why is Kiviak still important to Greenlanders?
Because it carries meaning far beyond the plate.
Kiviak represents history, identity, and survival. It’s not just a preserved bird—it’s a living connection to ancestors who relied on skill and knowledge to survive in one of the harshest environments on earth.
It’s a symbol of respect
In many Greenlandic communities, serving Kiviak during holidays or special gatherings honors elders and tradition. It’s a gesture that says, we remember, and we carry this forward.
It teaches patience and skill
Preparing Kiviak isn’t something you learn overnight. It’s passed down from parent to child—when to hunt, how to clean the seal skin, how tightly to pack the birds, and when to open it. Every step matters, and each batch is a lesson.
Modern food hasn’t replaced it
Even with access to store-bought goods, some families still gather during the summer to make their own batch of Kiviak. They bury it under rocks or store it in cool, dry places, trusting the old methods to guide them through winter.
It’s a cultural anchor
For many, just the smell or taste of Kiviak brings back memories of childhood, storytelling, and family. It reminds people where they come from and what their families endured to survive.
That’s why it still matters. It’s not just about eating—it’s about remembering.
Can eating Kiviak make you sick?
Yes, if it’s not made properly.
Fermenting raw birds inside a sealed animal skin is a delicate process. When done correctly by experienced hands, Kiviak is safe for those used to it. But one mistake—especially involving air exposure or temperature shifts—can turn it dangerous.
What can go wrong?
Botulism
If oxygen gets inside the seal skin, Clostridium botulinum can grow. This bacteria produces a toxin that affects the nervous system and can be fatal.
Ammonia overload
Over-fermented batches may release excessive ammonia. In large amounts, this can stress the kidneys or cause nausea and confusion.
Foodborne bacteria
If the birds aren’t fresh or the seal isn’t airtight, bacteria like listeria or salmonella may develop, leading to fever, vomiting, or intestinal illness.
Why locals trust only familiar sources
Families know which batches are safe, who made them, and how they were stored. The process is taught and refined over generations, and even locals avoid eating from unknown or untrusted sources.
Tourists are often warned
Visitors are told not to try random Kiviak, especially from unverified sellers. It’s not a souvenir food or something sold in shops. You eat it from a local you trust—or not at all.
Is it possible to find Kiviak outside Greenland?
Almost never.
Exporting Kiviak is restricted or outright banned in most countries. The main reasons are food safety laws, wildlife protection rules, and the risks involved in transporting a fermented product that wasn’t made under regulated conditions.
Why it’s nearly impossible to ship
- It’s made with protected birds like little auks, which can’t legally be hunted or traded in many countries.
- The fermentation method doesn’t meet international hygiene standards.
- Opening a sealed batch mid-transport could release built-up gases, including ammonia, which pose health and safety risks.
The only real way to try it
You’d have to visit Greenland and be invited into a home or community where it’s being served. It’s not sold in stores or restaurants. Even within Greenland, access depends on timing, trust, and tradition.
Extremely rare, even for food adventurers
Only a small number of people outside Greenland have ever tried it, usually under close supervision. Locals prepare and serve it carefully, knowing what to look for in a safe batch. Without that guidance, the risks are too high.
So while Kiviak has gained attention, actually tasting it remains one of the most exclusive and difficult food experiences in the world.
Can Kiviak ever be made in modern ways?
Some have tried, but the results fall short.
There have been a few attempts to replicate Kiviak using modern tools and ingredients. These versions aim to reduce the health risks while preserving the essence of the dish—but they rarely succeed in capturing the full experience.
Common adaptations include
• Using vacuum-sealed bags instead of traditional sealskin
• Refrigerating or freezing the batch instead of burying it under rocks
• Substituting birds like chickens or pigeons for wild auks
But something always feels off
Locals say these modern attempts lack the flavor, smell, and richness that come from using real seal fat, native seabirds, and Arctic ground fermentation. The cold climate, slow breakdown, and natural bacteria create a profile that machines can’t fully match.
Even lab attempts haven’t nailed it
One food scientist recreated the process using controlled temperatures and lab-grown bacteria cultures. The final product looked similar and fermented correctly—but the taste was flat, the texture was off, and it lacked the bold, complex punch of the original.
Modern versions miss the point
Kiviak isn’t just about preserved meat. It’s about the land, the tradition, the materials, and the rhythm of nature. Without those, it may be edible—but it’s not Kiviak in spirit.
Why do some people describe Kiviak as addictive?
There’s more going on than just flavor. For those who grew up eating it, Kiviak can feel comforting, energizing, and even crave-worthy—especially during long Arctic winters.
Fermented food can trigger brain responses
Fermentation changes the chemical makeup of food. Some studies suggest it can activate dopamine pathways in the brain, much like strong cheese or cured meat. For people familiar with Kiviak, the intense flavor and smell may actually spark a satisfying reaction.
It’s packed with energy
Seal fat is calorie-dense, and fermented bird meat is rich in bioavailable protein. During winter months when sunlight is limited and energy is harder to maintain, this kind of nutrition becomes deeply satisfying—both physically and emotionally.
It’s tied to mood and memory
Some locals say Kiviak lifts their spirits during the darkest months. It’s not just about nutrients—it’s about comfort. Eating something tied to family gatherings and tradition can bring a sense of warmth and belonging.
Addiction isn’t always about the food itself
In Kiviak’s case, it’s also about connection, survival, and ritual. That combination can make it feel essential—something you not only enjoy but deeply miss if it’s absent. For those who love it, Kiviak isn’t just food. It’s part of who they are.
What does Kiviak represent today in Greenland?
Kiviak stands as a symbol of cultural identity. It’s more than a dish—it’s a story passed from one generation to the next.
For many in Greenland, especially in northern communities, Kiviak isn’t just about taste. It’s about remembering where they come from, what their ancestors endured, and how people survived by using every part of what nature offered.
Young people still grow up with it
Even if some say they don’t love the flavor, they still eat it during birthdays, winter holidays, or important family events. It’s a shared moment that links past and present.
It’s food with meaning
Kiviak tells a quiet story of adaptation, resilience, and respect for tradition. Preparing and eating it keeps that story alive—not just in words, but through hands-on experience.
It preserves more than meat
It preserves memory. When a sealskin is opened, it’s not just food that comes out—it’s generations of knowledge, pride, and community.
In today’s Greenland, Kiviak remains a flag you eat. A reminder that tradition doesn’t always look beautiful or smell sweet—but it holds everything that matters.
FAQs
Is Kiviak legal to eat?
Yes, in Greenland. Not legal for export in most countries due to food safety laws.
Can vegetarians try Kiviak?
No. It’s made entirely from animals and involves fermentation with natural guts.
Is Kiviak served in restaurants?
Rarely. Most servings happen at homes or community events.
Do all batches of Kiviak taste the same?
No. Taste varies depending on the birds, fat ratio, seal quality, and fermentation time.
Is Kiviak still eaten in Greenland today?
Yes. While it’s not an everyday meal, Kiviak is still served during birthdays, holidays, and other family events, especially in northern communities.
Do young Greenlanders like the taste of Kiviak?
Some do, some don’t. Many say they respect the tradition even if they’re not fond of the flavor. It’s more about cultural connection than personal preference.
Can Kiviak be bought in stores?
No. Kiviak is never sold commercially. It’s homemade, shared within families, and prepared using traditional methods passed down through generations.
How long does it take to make Kiviak?
Anywhere from 3 to 18 months, depending on weather conditions and the timing of the fermentation.
Is there a vegetarian or modern version of Kiviak?
There have been attempts to replicate it using other birds or sealed containers, but none have matched the original in taste or cultural meaning.
Why is Kiviak important to Greenlandic identity?
It represents survival, tradition, and respect for ancestral knowledge. Eating it is as much about remembering as it is about nourishment.
Is it dangerous to eat Kiviak?
Not if it’s made correctly by experienced locals. But a poorly sealed batch can cause serious illness, including botulism. That’s why it’s never made casually or without guidance.
Do tourists ever get to try it?
Sometimes, but only under trusted conditions—usually during a visit to a family home where Kiviak is being served. It’s not offered to strangers without care.