The Time Capsule: Beware the lutefisk, a worm-like mistake
Einer Almgood dropped by the other day to see if I needed lutefisk. He orders early because he wants to get his, as he puts it, “from the top of the stack.”
This compulsion is the result of stories told him by his grandmother. She recalled a time when lutefisk arrived at our railroad depots packed in bundles, which were stacked outside grocery stores and meat markets. She described witnessing stray dogs anointing these bundles with what Swedes called “the Norwegian leg salute.” Lutefisk from the bottom of the pile, his grandmother said, “Just doesn’t come out right.”
Einer knows our vigilant Food and Drug Administration would not allow this to happen today, but takes no chances.
While most lutefisk now sold has been reconstituted, Einer has a source that still sells it dry. Shipping costs are less, he tells me, and the price per pound is lower if he buys in volume. He wanted to put me down for a few slabs. I declined. I declined because, on Dec. 23, 1988, in a regrettable moment of bad judgment, I allowed a tiny, gelatinous morsel of lutefisk to squirt past my tongue and slither down my throat like a languid worm. I shall never make that mistake again.
Lutefisk, should anyone not know, is salted fish—usually cod—sun-dried to the consistency of floor tile, then soaked in drain cleaner. Throughout Scandinavia, it has been a revered and traditional holiday main course for centuries. The dish, a Swedish friend told me, is more a spiritual experience than an entrée. When days begin to shorten, she said, people of Nordic descent feel a restless yearning that can only be satisfied with lutefisk.
For those who wish to prepare theirs in the traditional manner, the following was copied from Einer’s grandmother’s Swedish cookbook.
“Using a good saw, cut 10 pounds of dried lutefisk into two or three pieces. Place in a wooden container and cover with cold water. Leave it soak for a week, changing water daily. Then make a strong solution of lye, washing soda and fifteen quarts of water. Place the fish in this solution under heavy weights. In a week, when softened, take it out, rinse, and place in fresh water for eight more days. Change water twice daily. Remove the fins and skin and cut into serving size pieces. Wash thoroughly and rinse. Tie in a cloth bag and place in boiling water for 15 minutes or until tender. Serve with boiled potatoes and mustard sauce.”
That’s it. Be advised, though, that “good saw” as used above is the English translation of the Swedish word ‘Husqvarna.’ You should also know that a ten pound slab of dried lutefisk will swell, when soaked, to about the size of an adult dolphin.
Making lutefisk the old-fashioned way requires three weeks of toil and trouble. Much better to observe this peculiar ritual at either the Stanton Heritage Center’s annual dinner — held this year Nov. 10 — or at one of the local churches which observe a seasonal lutefisk event.
I have gone not to dine but rather to watch somber descendants of Swedish immigrants toss down a shot of glogg—some need more than one—then move through the serving line with the grim resolution of salmon going upstream to spawn and perish.
If the blood of Vikings flows through your veins you will probably feel the need to join them. Bon Appetite.
Roy Marshall is a local historian and columnist for the Red Oak Express. He can be contacted at news@redoakexpress.com.