Surströmming Och Majonnäs

Fermenterad Flundra

"Surströmmingssång" är en humoristisk hyllning till Sveriges mest kontroversiella delikatess. Denna countryfärgade låt blandar traditionell svensk matkultur med amerikansk musikstil för att skapa en underhållande hyllning till den fermenterade fisken från Höga Kusten.

Surströmmingssång

[Verse 1]
From Baltic waves to a tin can tomb,
It’s Sweden’s funk in a fermented boom!
Crack the lid—watch your eyes water,
A scent that could sink a Viking daughter!

[Pre-Chorus]
Some scream, some flee, some pray for air…
But Swedes just grin and say, “Bara bra!”

[Chorus]
Hold your nose, bite the dare—
Surströmming’s stink’s beyond compare!
A Nordic storm in a can of gold,
Love it or hate it, it’s bold, bold, BOLD!
Oh-oh-oh-oh, you’ve been warned!
Oh-oh-oh-oh, taste the storm!

[Verse 2]
At Midsummer feasts, we gather ‘round,
With flatbread, cream, and potatoes downed.
One salty bite—your soul takes flight,
It’s tradition’s tang, it’s wrong… and right!

[Pre-Chorus]
Grandma cheers, “It’s delikat!”
You gasp, “This is food?!”… She swats your hat.

[Chorus]
Hold your nose, bite the dare—
Surströmming’s stink’s beyond compare!
A Nordic storm in a can of gold,
Love it or hate it, it’s bold, bold, BOLD!
Oh-oh-oh-oh, you’ve been warned!
Oh-oh-oh-oh, taste the storm!

[Bridge]
Open outdoors! (Don’t say we didn’t care…)
The brine’s a weapon—handle with prayer!
It’s rotten magic, a cult in a can,
The king of chaos—no middlehand!

[Verse 3]
From Baltic waves to a tin can tomb,
It’s Sweden’s funk in a fermented boom!
Crack the lid—watch your eyes water,
A scent that could sink a Viking daughter!

[Pre-Chorus]
Some scream, some flee, some pray for air…
But Swedes just grin and say, “Bara bra!”

[Chorus]
Hold your nose, bite the dare—
Surströmming’s stink’s beyond compare!
A Nordic storm in a can of gold,
Love it or hate it, it’s bold, bold, BOLD!
Oh-oh-oh-oh, you’ve been warned!
Oh-oh-oh-oh, taste the storm!

[Outro]
So when life’s mild, and your guts feel tame,
Grab a fork—and scream its name!
"Surströmming…"

[Final Chorus]
Hold your nose, bite the dare—
Surströmming’s stink’s beyond compare!
A Nordic storm in a can of gold,
Love it or hate it, it’s bold, bold, BOLD!
Oh-oh-oh-oh, you’ve been warned!
Oh-oh-oh-oh, taste the storm!

Surströmming’s Stink

[Intro]
At heart a meat-and-potatoes boy, who’s travelled overseas
I’ve seen and tried a few of these that brought me to my knees
I once ate things I won’t describe, on docks and desert sand
And still I dream of mashed-up peas and gravy close at hand

[Verse 1 – Blue Cheese]
It started with a noble mold, a wedge of veined delight
A pungent bite of Stilton served by candlelight
It stung the nose, it tingled lips, it wasn't love at first —
But somewhere ‘tween the salt and funk, I found my primal thirst

[Chorus]
I’ve got a taste for the rotten, a hunger most obscene
From barnyard wafts to fungal drafts, I dine where few have been
So hold your nose and raise your glass, let civilization scream —
I’ll eat what smells like Satan’s foot and call it haute cuisine

[Verse 2 – Washed-Rind Wonders]
Then came a slab of Époisses, it slouched upon the plate
It oozed like guilt from Burgundy, with rind you love to hate
The monks who made it must have wept — or laughed beneath their hoods
It smelled like feet and sacred vows and all misunderstood

[Verse 3 – Natto & Century Egg]
I wandered east to breakfast rice, to natto’s stringy mesh
It clung like ghosts to every chopstick — brave was my first thresh
Century eggs like dragon stones, in black and silver shells
A thousand years in every yolk, and hints of sulfur spells

[Verse 4 – Durian]
The fruit they guard like treasure — the durian of fame
Its flavor sings of heaven, but its scent invokes deep shame
They banned it on the subway, they whisper as you pass
Yet brave souls split the spiny husk, and praise its creamy gas

[Verse 5 – Casu Marzu & Balut]
In Sardinia they serve it live — Casu Marzu reigns
With maggots writhing in the cheese, immune to laws or chains
And down in Southeast Asia, a boiled surprise awaits
A duckling still mid-gestation — Balut, the bold man’s fate

[Verse 6 – Surströmming]
But all roads lead to Sweden, where demons learn to swim
Surströmming waits in tins of doom — fermented to the brim
You pop the lid, the gods retch loud, the sea itself recoils
The fish, undead, still whisper things as brine and madness boil

[Final Chorus – Raucous]
We’ve got a taste for the rotten, a banquet brewed in hell
From ripened mold to fetal gold, we cherish every smell
So mock us, flee, or join the feast — let reason be unseated
For what is food, if not the proof that humans can’t be defeated?

[Final Stanza – Reflection]
I’m a meat-and-potatoes boy, who’s travelled overseas
I’ve seen and tried some different foods that brought me to my knees
I once ate things I won’t describe, on docks and desert sand
And still I dream of mashed-up peas and gravy close at hand.

Special Foods

Hultaligan från småländska skogarna.
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Professional software developer. Amateur composer, photographer, chef. (Note I am not the other Geoffrey Falk in Toronto who writes music. That's Geoffrey David Falk, who often goes by just "Geoffrey Falk.")

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