Smorgasbord - A lefse adventure

The way it’s rolled varies as much as the different people who make it. The technique changes based on the tools and the hands themselves. However one thing is the same. The tradition, the loyalty to the recipe, the bonds created over a round stainless steel griddle, those don’t waver. For years the Immanuel Lutheran Church has brought together church members and devoted volunteers to put on the 15 plus dish buffet for their annual fundraiser. A true smorgasboard indeed.

Definition, Smorgasbord: noun 1. A luncheon or supper buffet offering a variety of foods and dishes 2. A large heterogeneous mixture

As I look at my notes from my most recent senior project endeavor I shake my head as I flip through the brilliant yellow legal pad. My notes are a smorgasbord of their own, truly a heterogeneous mixture. How am I going to convey the amazing weekend I spent at the Immanuel Lutheran Church learning to make lefse? How can I describe the welcoming smiles or the feeling of a warm lefse scrap in my hand? Most of all how am I going to tell the many stories I collected … and with these notes- the best I can hope for is a 100 page book.

I heard about the Immanuel Lutheran Church smorgasbord by chance and immediately called and asked if I could come and learn the art of making lefse. Since my projects birth I had been itching to get my hands on a rolling pin and figure out the secrets to the almost paper thin potato tortilla-like treat. Knowing I have Norweign roots somewhere I was craving the popular namesake of my ancestors homeland.

My lefse adventure was broken into two separate cooking days over a weekend. The first was spent creating the (wet) dough. Then I returned on Sunday when the flour was added and the lefse hit the griddle.

That sunny Saturday morning I stepped into the unknown territory of Immanuel Lutheran Church. Immediately welcomed by Linda, who guided me into the social hall where she had about 8 silver haired gents peeling potatoes. I am impressed, naturally, growing up in a household where the men rarely step foot in the kitchen let alone touch a vegetable peeler. She tells me to get my stories and hussles back into the kitchen already steaming with starchy liquid. They don’t look incredibly willing to share stories, and to be quite honest after peeling 80lbs of potatoes I’d want to go home and take a nap too.

Bob Linsted warmed up to me and talked to me as if I was an old family friend. He recalled the winter holidays spent with Scandinavian customs. The head cheese, the lutefisk, and all the jars full of salty, pickled foods. The other gents start chimming in, filling in holes when I ask questions. I am enjoying the banter and noticing a bit of a rivalry between those with Norwegian and those with Swedish roots. “Oh you sweds!” a man with big glasses says through chuckles. Rick Swanson recalls the potato sausage. He left his Swedish homeland at 9 months and has returned twice. I can tell he wants to go again. Mr. Linsted remembers when 20 or 30 relatives would gather for Christmas, each bringing a different dish. He shakes his head and looks down as he remarks, “We are lucky to get 5 or 6 for Christmas dinner now.”

Jim Peterson and Rick Swanson both credit their grandparents to keeping the old customs and recipes alive.

Jim Peterson was most distraught when I told him I had never had pickled herring. He leaves the room for a bit while I chat with the others and before I know it he returns with a jar and a fork – smiling ear to ear. I can’t believe it and I think the others are as shocked as I am as I pick out a piece of vinegary fish from the jar and hold it in my fingers. I take a bite, a tiny bite, about the size of two tick tacks. Needless to say, it’s awful. Me, a girl who doesn’t even like pickles just ate pickled herring out of the jar. In the end I got three ity bity bites down, and God bless Linda who resuced me to go cook in the kitchen. She was horrified they didn’t even give me a cracker to help get it down.

I am put to work in an assembly line, combining the instant potatoes with cream and butter then adding this mix to 6 cups of riced potatoes. You may be wondering why there are instant potatoes in the recipe? Regular lefse dough falls apart kind of easy. With the instant potatoes the dough is more forgiving, and allows for beginners like me to actually have some success on the griddle. Linda is feeding me little tid-bits of information about the smorgasbord as she runs around the kitchen-one would think she had an extra set of limbs. She recalls her grandmother saying, “Just mix it til it feels right.” Her face tells me that this didn’t work out too well for her. I myself find measuring cups a pain to wash, but a definite necessity in baking.

After almost 3 hours of mixing there is suddenly no more potatoes to “rice”. We finish up and I head for home, brimming with anticipation for what the next day will bring.

TO BE CONTINUED

(I split the days into two different posts because I have pictures that I want to add separately.)