Bring Ethnic Culture Home to the Table

One of the best ways to ensure the continuation of ethnic culture is to EAT IT!











Last Saturday, I attended a lecture at the Sons of Norway Lodge in Ballard, an area of Seattle known for its prominent Scandinavian community that dates back to the 1880s. I became a member of the Lodge last year, but visit somewhat infrequently because it isn't exactly close to home. During this visit, I remembered that a Scandinavian foods shop sat only a block away, on NW Market Street. I decided there was no better Valentines Day gift for my mother than a taste of her childhood.

Walking in the door, I was immediately taken by the warm, sugary smell of freshly baked krumkake--waffle cookies rolled into a cone and usually served stuffed with whipped cream. The owners, two sisters from the Stavanger area of Norway, make them fresh right in the store.

Members of the Norwegian, Swedish, Danish and Finnish communities in the Seattle area are often found at Olsen's Scandinavian Foods. They sell plenty of traditional foods, but also kitchen implements such as: lefse turners, krumkake irons, and decorative mugs with Scandinavian designs, to name a few hard-to-find items.

Award-winning selections of pickled herring, fishcakes, meatballs, cold smoked salmon, lutefisk, and other food selections sure to please those palate memories from the Old Country. In particular, I was drawn to the shelves containing the goat cheeses, chocolates, and jams. For my mother, I came away with a big box of Mor's flatbread, two packages of lefse, a block of sweet and creamy Gudbransdal goat cheese, some Gjende cookies, and a jar of lingonberry jam. Yum! Okay, so it's not just for Mom...

Up to this point, I have been buying my goat cheese at a local natural foods market. But, it occurred to me that without adequate support, neighborhood ethnic stores like Olsen's might quickly become a thing of the past, especially as the older generation diminishes. From now on, I plan to buy my goat cheese, lefse, plus many other traditional foods, from Olsen's. I hope my Norwegian-American ancestors will forgive me if I pass on the lutefisk, though.

Support your local ethnic stores and delis

Keep your family's ancestral culture on the table!

No Ode to Lutefisk

Advent Calendar, December 3: Foods

Being from a Norwegian-American family, I should be looking forward to the traditional holiday fare of lutefisk and lefse just about now. Lefse, ya sure, bring it on! I love lefse with butter, and sometimes a little sugar and cinnamon sprinkled on.

But lutefisk?

For those of you not familiar with lutefisk, it is reconstituted cod: long-dried cod brought nearly back to life using lye.

It may be interesting to know that the typical native Norwegian no longer eats this. Then, why in Thor's hammer is it on many Norwegian-American tables at holiday family get-togethers, potlucks, church suppers, and even offered at buffets on ships cruising the North Sea?

It boils down (literally!) to the Viking spirit.

Lutefisk was a poor person's food in Norway, and it was also a source of protein that could be produced no matter what the weather. The method is timeless: catch the cod, dry the cod, store it in a shed, wait copious amounts of time, retrieve as needed, beat off any dust or dirt, soak in lye for several days, boil or bake well, and then serve up with riced potatoes, small cooked frozen peas, and a look of nonchalance.

Because of the longevity of dried fish and the plentiful supply of fish in Norway, lutefisk found its way to many early Norwegian farming tables whenever a little extra something was desired, especially at celebrations. Now that Norwegians are no longer as poor as they used to be, this food is ignored, and even downright shunned in its place of origin.

But, in America, lutefisk is a source of pride. It's a symbol of survivorship - proof that you can't keep a good ole' Ole down.

Ya, ve have da Viking blood coursing tru da veins!

Come harsh weather, near starvation, emigration, poverty and hardship on the prairie, you name it, the lutefisk will go on... and on... and on...

and on.

A Norwegian-American saying goes: "... about half the Norwegians who immigrated to America came in order to escape the hated lutefisk, and the other half came to spread the gospel of lutefisk's wonderfulness." [1]


I remember my mother prepared lutefisk for Christmas one year when I was young. My grandfather, great aunts and uncles, and many other relatives had arrived at our house for dinner. The women chattered off and on in Norwegian, so that the kids couldn't understand all the gossip. The little living Christmas tree in the living room was hung with ornaments, and the plastic Santa and Snowman were glowing in the front window. The dining room table was set beautifully, draped in a white tablecloth decorated with embroidered pointsettias, an evergreen centerpiece, and Mom's best silver laid out next to pearl colored cloth napkins.



This is one of my family's favorite photos of my "Grampa" (Ernest Johnson), wearing his characteristic flannel shirt and argyle socks.  Christmas, early 1960s, in Salem, Oregon.


Why, the lutefisk even had its own special holiday serving platter. And, resting in the mucky, jiggly, yellowish slush was a beautifully engraved, antique silver serving fork... turned green. It had actually turned green from the lye!
My chin was not much higher than the table, but I remember giving the lutefisk platter the once over, at eye level. After all the excited talk about this "delicacy," I was anxious to try it; that first taste held promise.

But, after spying that green serving fork, I decided that lutefisk wasn't for me. They could disown me as Norwegian offspring, but no morsel of that jiggly stuff was going to get past my sealed lips and turn my insides green. Uh-uh!
And, it never did.  But, the lefse... oooohhh, the lefse!

[1] http://whatscookingamerica.net/History/LutefiskHistory.htm

Peas, Porridge & Pie: Food on an Early 20th Century Farm



Phyllis Johnson (left) and Doris Johnson (middle), shelling pease on the kitchen stoop with their grandmoterh, Malla Larson Johnson.  The family dogs are Cubby and Teddy.  Leonard, Clearwater County, Minnesota, 1938.



What better way to prepare for the Thanksgiving holiday than to think about food? For family historians, that means the food of days gone by: slow food... real food... the sustenance that our ancestors spent most waking hours growing, preparing, and preserving. The following excerpts deal with day-to-day life on a Norwegian-American farm belonging to my great grandparents, Ole and Malla Johnson, three miles outside of Leonard in Clearwater County, northern Minnesota.  The information for this piece was gathered during a 2002 oral interview with their granddaughter, Doris Johnson Wheeler (my mother). Doris and her older sister, Phyllis, lived on their grandparents' farm from 1922-1945, after the girls' mother died from tuberculosis and left their father a young widower.

Each year, the Johnson women canned meat, pickles, string beans, peas, and other vegetables. The girls gathered blueberries and raspberries, and they sometimes walked many miles in order to find enough, though continually plagued by flies, mosquitoes, and ticks along the way. There were wild plums to be plucked, and gooseberries that grew in the pasture, as well as wild strawberries, currants, choke cherries, and pin cherries that would be made into wonderful jams and jellies. Malla Johnson raised ground cherries in her garden, little yellow berries with lots of seeds, from which she made sauce. Her husband added to the summer bounty by buying one or two lugs each of peaches and pears. Ole Johnson never forgot to include a basketful of dark blue grapes, because he loved grape jelly so much...

To feed her perpetually hungry family and hired hands, Malla Johnson liked to make traditional Norwegian porridge (groet), lefse, Johnnie cake, and feather cake, always without frosting. Breads, cakes, cookies, pies, and puddings were produced regularly. Mabel Johnson, the youngest daughter, seemed to be allergic to yeast, since she always got a tremendous headache whenever she baked bread. She had to do it anyway, because there was no such thing as skipping out on a chore.

When Phyllis Johnson was old enough, she began to help Mabel with the baking. One time, Malla asked her granddaughter to make a batch of lemon pies for the threshing crew. Phyllis had never made a pie before in her life, and she was nervous about presenting her novice efforts to an insatiable and highly expectant work crew. Much to her relief, the pies turned out fine, and no one complained...

Like many men from Norway of his generation and earlier, Ole Johnson drank hot coffee from a saucer in order to cool it quickly. He also ate peas with a knife, which was a custom of uncertain origin. The habit of lining up peas on a blade may date back to the Stone Age when there were only knives and bowls. Or, it may have started as a sporting challenge between men in Viking society. However it began, the custom was passed on through many generations as sort of a cultural icon in Norwegian-American society. Years later, at least a few of Johnson's sons were observed still struggling to mind their "peas and q's" in a similar fashion.

Ole Johnson was not a big coffee drinker, but he did enjoy a glass of milk, especially with a slice of warm apple pie. To his disappointment, warm apple pie was difficult to come by. One reason was that apples were not grown locally, and they were bought only during the holiday season. Another reason was that freshly made pie was always cold by the time he came in from work on baking days, and it was not easily reheated. So, whenever the family was in nearby Bagley and had the opportunity to drop in at Mogster's Hotel for a bite to eat, the most important thing on Johnson's agenda was warm apple pie...

A typical holiday meal with the Johnsons included: lutefisk, mashed potatoes, vegetables, lefse, butter, milk, coffee, and a dessert--like the apple pie that Ole Johnson never quite caught up to while it was still warm...

Before Christmas, Johnson would hitch two horses to a sleigh and ride into town to buy the annual Yule treats for his family. Everyone looked forward to their Christmas goodies, as simple as they were: a couple of boxes of apples, and a big bag each of peanuts, mixed nuts, and hard candy. Baking cocoa was available, but chocolate candy was not a regular treat, even though Ernest Johnson did bring some to his daughters, Phyllis and Doris, upon occasion. A shortage of chocolate would be a nearly unimaginable hardship to many of us now, and even Doris later became quite fond of a morning cup of Swiss Mocha coffee...

The Johnsons enjoyed eating traditional Norwegian food, like the primost (cheese) they sometimes bought. Ole Johnson especially liked fish, and he often went fishing in Clearwater Lake where he kept a cedar-strip boat. Many years later, the lake became so polluted from sewage that fishing was no longer possible. Doris said it was no wonder that her grandfather moved way from the homestead in Chippewa County, because the area had so few lakes and he loved to fish so much...

All excerpts are from "Clearwater Days," Chapter 7 in "A Long Way Downstream: the Life and Family of Thibertine Johnson Winje, Norwegian-American Pioneer," by Chery Kinnick.

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