I’ll be the first to admit that Inuit-inspired dishes are unlikely to find their way to your local mall’s food court. There’s no Inuit curries, noodles, or hot cheese. While the North certainly offers delightful dishes prepared with unusual local ingredients (spruce tip jelly! morels!) the Inuvialuit and Gwich’in feast on delicacies that one might call an acquired taste (and they’ll be the first to admit that, too). When poor weather cancelled my day’s excursion to see the pingos outside the small hamlet of Tuktoyaktuk, the owners of Inuvik’s Up North Tours, Kylik Kisoun-Taylor and his formidable uncle, Jerry Kisoun, warmly invited me to their kitchen to sample some local flavours. Although dining options are limited in the town, I’d already been impressed with the muskox and brie burger I’d devoured at the Mackenzie Hotel, and the fresh and flavourful whitefish tacos served out of a yellow schoolbus at Alestines. Tonight’s menu, however, would be a different kettle of dehydrated fish altogether.
Life in a Northern Town
Inuvik, the last stop on the Dempster Highway, was built in the 1960s as a regional centre for the western Arctic. In summer, it sees a steady traffic of RVs and tour bikes, and it is home to the region’s only hospital. An excellent visitor centre explores the cultural and natural history of the western Arctic.
A curious note: the local liquor store has the best prices for Scotch I’ve seen anywhere in the country. Dining is limited, but don’t miss the fish tacos and reindeer chilli at Alestines, served out of an old yellow school bus. Supplies can be procured at the NorthMart supermarket. Given the distances they have to travel, some things are understandably expensive, and others surprisingly reasonable. While the town once boasted half a dozen pubs, at the time of writing, there is only the Legion, Shivers, and the notorious Trappers, which has the ambiance of a Wild West saloon. With a major new road being constructed to Tuktoyaktuk, there are hopes that tourism will increase in the area, which is serviced by a small but impressive airport and a welcoming community of characters.
Dried meats and fish form a large part of the northern diet, with Kylik slicing thin strips of both on a cardboard cutting board and placing them in an electric dehydrator. Let’s start with whale meat. It looks not unlike jerky, but tastes like the meat of a cow fed a strict diet of sardines. The fishy-meaty taste doesn’t exactly roll off the taste buds. Next to the whale is a plate with similar-looking dried beaver, which tastes exactly how you’d imagine a large aquatic rodent to taste, sprinkled with the special flavour of guilt that accompanies eating any national animal on the menu. The dried reindeer is more recognizable, tasting like venison — lean and gamey. More appealing is the boiled tundra swan, which is deliciously ducky, while dried strips of whitefish are suitably complemented by large wads of butter. Dried seal meat also looks like jerky but with a fatty, pungent fishiness to it as well. I guess mammals truly are what they eat. The star of the show, besides Jerry’s stories, is traditional muktuk; that is, raw baby beluga whale. Cut into small pieces, it is very rich in vitamin C (in case you were wondering why Indigenous northern people don’t get scurvy) and looks very much like … well, the skin of a raw baby beluga. Since my toddler has subjected me to hour upon hour of Raffi’s classic hit “Baby Beluga,” the song spins its notes in my head as I reach for a firm, spongy square. Jerry suggests less chewing and more swallowing, especially with the cartilage texture. Swim so fine and you swim so free … Raffi is killing me. I plop the piece in my mouth and instantly realize that muktuk is a dish best left to those who can appreciate it, like family friends who pop over for a visit and take great delight in the smorgasbord on offer. Jerry further explains that muktuk must be served right or else one risks contracting botulism. This particular whale was hunted last season and only sees light outside the freezer on special occasions. It’s a tough whale to swallow. With enough time, one can acquire a taste for whale, although, as comedian Jackie Mason once remarked, one never has to acquire a taste for french fries.
My favourite dish of the evening is frozen Arctic char, served raw to melt in my mouth like ice-cream sashimi. Somewhere between salmon and trout, char is the northern cuisine’s most sought-after fish. The evening is also memorable for the traditional clothing. At one point, I try on a seal jacket, polar bear mitts, beaver hat, and wolf boots. Wool and Gore-Tex don’t stand a chance. It is easy to understand why animals play such a vital role in Arctic Aboriginal culture.
The weather never does ease up for my visit to Tuktoyaktuk, which, along with Herschel Island, belongs on my Great Canadian Bucket List. It does, however, allow time for a boat ride up the extraordinary Mackenzie Delta, listening to Jerry’s stories of growing up in the region, taking his team of dogs out in the winter to trap, hunt, and visit family in the delta. With a Gwich’in mom and Inuvialuit dad, Jerry knows both worlds, pointing out places from his childhood in the labyrinth of waterways. I see more than a dozen beaver, slapping their tails at our approach. Graceful tundra swans rest on the grassy banks. The mosquitoes are pretty fierce, but this is life in an Arctic summer. Jerry gets a sparkle in his eye recalling the dog teams that gave him so much freedom as a child, and as an adult, too. A peachy sun radiates a special glow at midnight; the purity in the light has to be experienced at least once in one’s life. As for snacks on board: delicious homemade cookies, courtesy of Jerry’s wife –– sweet, buttery, and agreeably muktuk-free.
START HERE: canadianbucketlist.com/Inuvik