aChristmas and the holiday season are both just around the corner and as usual I am spinning my tires as I try to get ahead of the game. It seems like each year I am just a little slower out of the gate in that race to finish shopping and prepping for Christmas Eve.
I can remember helping my mother put up the Christmas decorations inside of our small but cozy house. We may not have had much, but the way mom decorated our house at Christmas always made it seem warm and cozy.
Christmas Eve is the night when my side of the family does, and always has, celebrated this joyous holiday. As a kid growing up with two Norwegian parents I found that tradition and family were the things that mattered most on this holiday.
When Christmas did finally arrive we usually went to my dad’s side first on Christmas Eve and later on to Uncle Orv’s, my mom’s brother,
At Grandma Herfindahl’s the main course was always the dreaded “lutefisk.” Now I don’t know, nor have I ever known, any kid in his right mind who was ever counting the days until he or she could eat “the fish.” My grandma and aunts always had side dishes like meatballs and of course all the trimmings. This was food for the “non-fish-eaters.” We also had buttered pieces of lefse rolled up with sugar and cinnamon sprinkled on it. We considered this a real treat.
Once the fish was on the table and the traditional Norwegian prayer was said, my dad and my uncles would begin the ritual of getting ready to eat the fish. Uncle Ben would roll up his sleeves and dad and Uncle Oliver would follow suit. They then commenced to put potatoes and fish on a lefse and pour melted butter over it and then salt and pepper the heck out of it, which would round out the delicacy. A perfect lefse had to be thick enough to hold the fish but not so thick that it was doughy.
Every year Uncle Ben would turn to me and ask if I was going to eat some “fish” like a true Norwegian. Now I had eaten my share of fish before but it never smelled like that unless it had died on the stringer and had been dragged around the lake on a hot July day.
I finally gave in; reasoning that eating something that smelled that bad was the price a kid had to pay to get to the “main event” (present opening). As I think back on it I can still hear Uncle Lloyd saying, “I sure would like to eat some of that fish but I have a bad stomach, you know.” In looking back, that excuse always seemed a little fishy to me.
I don’t know at exactly what age I actually decided to become a “Real Norske” but once I took the plunge I never looked back. I now actually look forward to Christmas knowing full well that I will proudly be partaking in the ritual of eating “the fish.” It doesn’t smell any better than it ever did, but I look forward to eating it at least a couple of times during the holidays.
My dad always said that you weren’t eating it right unless you roll it up, pick it up and bite into it while the butter runs down your arm. Thus being the reason for my dad and uncles rolling up their sleeves before feasting on this Norwegian delicacy. I have yet to pass the tradition on to both of my sons but Brad, my youngest, does eat it while Brian, his older brother, is stubbornly holding out and has no interest in being a traditionalist when it comes to this fine Norwegian pallet-pleaser. None of the grandsons has shown any interest but my 8-year-old granddaughter Emma last year asked if she could have some and ate it plain; plucking a piece right out of the bowl, eating it and pleasantly surprised me by coming back to ask for more. Uffda!
Until next time, the small game season is still open and bow hunting for deer runs until the end of the month. Be careful when venturing out on new ice and above all have a Safe and Merry Christmas!
Please take some time during the holiday seson to honor those who have sacrificed so much for the freedoms that we enjoy today. Also take a little extra time to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice, those who have served and those troops that are serving today.