One evening, during my fifteen month stay in Tuktoyaktuk, I went to visit my friend Boogie. He was putting some food on the table and inquired if I had ever tried Ooksook. I told him I hadn't and foolishly volunteered that I'd try anything once. He smiled mischievously and disappeared into the enclosed porch, returning with a white plastic ice cream bucket. I was sitting in the living room and could see him opening it in the adjoining kitchen. Within seconds I nearly fell off the sofa from the pungent stench. "That's Ooksook?" I inquired. "I'm not so sure I want some now." "Ah," he replied disappointedly, "You said you would eat some."
My word is my bond and I wasn't going to welch out. A few minutes later, everything was ready for our feast. There were pieces of raw Arctic Char on one plate, slices of Quaq (raw dried caribou) and a bowl of what appeared to be half-melted lard.
"How do you eat it?" I inquired. "You dip the Quaq into the Ooksook, like chip dip." I had eaten Quaq often, but now picked up a slice hesitantly. I dipped it in the Ooksook and waited, thinking. It occurred to me that the best strategy might be to pop it in my mouth, chomp on it a few times and swallow it immediately, trying not to taste the offensively smelly dip. I proceeded on that course and had it down in seconds.
Evidently, my stomach wasn't all that impressed with it, as it attempted to wretch it up in several heaves. I managed to hold it down. "You want more?" Boogie asked excitedly. "Put hair on your chest." I assured him I would gladly die hairless rather than eat that vile stuff again. "Why would anyone eat that?" I inquired. "Keeps you warm when it's cold." Thinking about it, that made sense. Well rotted whale blubber, three years in the decay process, would be predigested fat, entering the blood stream in only minutes.
Later, Boogie reminded me that I enjoy old cheddar and blue cheese. I suppose Ooksook must also be an acquired taste, but one I choose not to cultivate.