My wife went to Iceland and brought me a cookbook full of cormorant recipes. I read in WW that cormorants are quite the problem for the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife [”ODOT Report Proposes Moving Cormorants Back to Island From Which They Were Evicted,” wweek.com, Dec. 27, 2023], but I’m still not seeing them on the grocery shelves. Seems like a match made in heaven, no? Can we go bag ourselves some cormorants? —Ha! Karl
Before I answer your question, Karl, I should hip our readers to the significance of your nom de plume, since it bears on the matter at hand: “Ha! Karl” is pretty clearly a reference to hákarl, an ancient Icelandic delicacy that has recently found new life as a thing for non-Icelandic people to dare each other to eat.
Hákarl is sometimes described as “rotten shark pickled in urine,” but that’s not really fair. The shark it’s made from is naturally rich in urea and ammonia, so over its monthslong fermentation it effectively creates urine from scratch. (I mean, we all do, but not usually in this “makes its own gravy!” sense.) This allows Icelanders to save their real urine for making holiday-themed popsicles.
What I’m saying, Karl, is that while Iceland has given us volcanoes, Björk and a suspiciously large number of World’s Strongest Man finalists, culinary recommendations are not its forte. It’s true that you can eat a cormorant. If you had to, you could also eat a tire.
I’ve done neither, but sources suggest turning wild cormorant into something edible can take literally days of effort. From one recipe: “Marinate the cormorant breasts for 48 hours, then brown them in a pan. Add one cup of marinade and stew the breasts for 20 hours until the meat is almost tender.” Almost!
Still, if you’re dead set on cormorant breasts for dinner (perhaps your local butcher is out of hockey pucks), you may yet be in luck. Cormorants have historically been protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, but by 2020 their burgeoning population had convinced the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (and its Canadian counterpart) it was time to modify the rules.
Under the new regulations, state and tribal authorities can apply for permits to control the double-crested cormorant, meaning it’s at least theoretically possible that Oregon might someday do what Ontario has already done and start letting schmucks like you blast the birds out of the sky and onto the plate. Will it really happen? Who knows? In the meantime, pee on some fish sticks and dream of meals to come.
Questions? Send them to dr.know@wweek.com.