meteorology, meat

INUVIK, NT

Sometime last week, it hit –36° Celsius. Now, I will admit that there are some detractions to that kind of temperature. Previously innocuous metal objects like keys and eyeglasses freeze to your skin. Snowpants take on essential, life–preserving dimensions. But the moisture from your breath also instantly turns your facial hair into an ice beard, and you just can't help but feel hard–core.

I've thoroughly enjoyed sampling various traditional foods up here. Recent novelties include caribou heart and fried lota lota (loche) egg sacs. But a recent potluck unintentionally consisted of dishes prepared entirely from a representative sampling of the Arctic's indigenous ruminants. To wit, I cooked moose in a wild mushroom sauce, someone else broiled caribou steaks, and a third individual produced muskox meatballs—a meal that was taxonomically fascinating, but a little heavy on the gut.

Apologies for the infrequent posts, and for this brief and disjointed one. I have had consuming tasks to complete recently, but have almost emerged to the other side.

Take good care.

Photo above: The Fortress of Solitude, a popular local make–out spot.