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