A few years ago I sent off a saliva sample to get my DNA tested.
My main motive was to handicap my chances of developing Alzheimer’s, but I was also the slightest bit curious about locating the deeper roots of my family tree.
I had no expectations - none of us in the family had much clue where we came from, other than idle speculation that the Solomon side had some Jewish heritage.
So, when my results were emailed, I was interested to discover that my ancestry almost entirely originated in the lands settled or conquered by the Vikings. If you overlay a map that says “Vikings lived here” it will match the origins of my forebears.
There was a small amount of African heritage, an ancestor perhaps eight or nine generations ago, but the rest was solid Viking. So much so that I took a small rooting interests in our football team.
I was reminded of this heritage Monday when I reviewed what I had eaten since Friday.
- Friday night was a pan of bacon with some scrambled eggs.
- On Saturday I smoked 10 pounds of chicken leg quarters, some of which went into the freezer.
- Sunday, it was two whole chickens, four pork chops and a chub of sausage in the smoker.
- We had an awards thing Monday at work, so I grilled hamburgers and pitmaster Marvin Holmes brought some seriously good ribs.
The only vegetables on the three-day menu were a few pieces of mushroom and bell pepper that joined the leg quarters in the smoker.
TheViking Diet, 2020.
Such a sustained level of protein may partially explain the recurring urge to plunder when I see gated communities named Saxon Hills or the like.
All was back to normal on Tuesday, though. Kindra made salad (with smoked chicken) for lunch and I felt the surge in Viking urges abate.
Except now I’m wondering what to do with that long boat I bought on eBay.