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One Foot in the Fridge

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Since ptarmigan hunting was banned before last Christmas, my family gave up on our traditional Christmas meal and turned to reindeer instead. We were impressed: beautifully tender meat with a strong game flavour. This, we thought, will be repeated next year.

And so, with my usual tardiness, I set about finding a hunk of reindeer to cook on Christmas Eve two days ago. Everywhere was sold out and the last bits of Rudolph were being sold at extortionate prices. Desperate, I called a friend who used to live in east Iceland, otherwise known as reindeer county. Sure, she knew a hunter, a very friendly soul who called me a few minutes later. “ I have one big piece of reindeer left,” he told me, and proceeded to send it via plane to Reykjavík.

I phoned up my rock star brother and asked him to please meet a very large man wearing hat and carrying orange bag at the city airport. On picking up the reindeer, I got a desperate phonecall from him. “ Are you mad? This f++++ng thing is the size of a large guitar. I’m putting it on your balcony. It won’t fit in the fridge. “

On getting home I collapsed in hysterics as I found a whole reindeer leg, hoof and all sitting on my balcony. I emptied out the fridge and managed to place it there vertically, where it looked like something out of a particularly nasty Sopranos episode. I could just imagine myself standing in my pristine white bathroom with a chainsaw, cutting of pieces of leg. I’ll keep you posted on how my Christmas dinner went. AMB ([email protected])

Views expressed here are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Iceland Review.