Commentary - pcgazette.com

Commentary
pcgazette.com

Lutefisk an easily acquired distaste for non-Scandinavians

By JIM SCHUH
of The Gazette
I went to my first lutefisk dinner not long ago. One thing I can say is that no one died while I was there. It's possible someone had passed away earlier, however, because the aroma in the room wasn't what you'd find at the perfume counter.

After learning the recipe for turning a normal fish of the sea into the Scandinavian "delicacy," I'd always thought that people could actually die from eating it. Soaking a piece of cod in a lye solution for a month doesn't exactly conjure up good eats.

If you've consumed lutefisk, you know that it appears like warmed globs of Vaseline (sorry, Chesebrough Ponds), or perhaps little chunks of partially congealed flavorless gelatin.

Friends down the street "treated" us to the lutefisk dinner. Although my birthday isn't for several months, they said the dinner was my present. I told them they must not like me very much.

I found that lots of people at the lutefisk supper were Lutherans - Swedish and Norwegian Lutherans. I don't ever recall a Lutheran tenet that requires eating lutefisk and it got me wondering why the concoction was so popular among folks of that faith.

It's impossible to think that Martin Luther, a good German, would have invented or even tasted lutefisk during his lifetime. I could find nothing in his theses or writings mentioning anything like lutefisk. My conclusion: there's no connection between lutefisk and Luther, except they're both on the same page in my dictionary.

So it must be that a few early Norse fishermen - with nothing else to do - drank too much one cold and dark winter night, and while they were counting their catch, accidentally dropped a cod into a solution they normally used to clean drainpipes in their huts. After a month or so, someone noticed the fish in the bucket, pulled it out, wrapped it as a gift, and sent it to an enemy. The enemy, whose taste buds were impaired (apparently a common Scandinavian affliction - even today), thought it was a gelatin delight, and although foul smelling, was easy to chew. You take it from there.

There weren't many young people at the lutefisk supper. Older rural Scandinavian (or Iolan) couples made up a significant part of the crowd. It was so much like being in Minnesota that I fully expected an overcome Garrison Keillor to stumble out of the kitchen and begin reciting Lake Wobegon tales.

One fellow wore a hat that exclaimed, "I'm Norwegian," and below it, in smaller letters, "but I'm taking pills for it."

Our hosts purchased buttons that read: "Pray for me - my husband is Norwegian," and "Pray for me - my wife is Swedish."

Sponsors know fully well that not all of their guests are ready to place their lives in peril and down the doctored cod. You hear lots of people on their way out the door exclaim, "The meatballs were really good." They never acknowledge the featured fish.

Läfse always seems to complement the lutefisk - the Scandinavians, whatever else they may be, are good at alliteration - lutefisk and läfse. Läfse is difficult to describe - unadorned, it looks and tastes much like thin, flaccid paperboard wedges. It begs for butter or jam or sugar and cinnamon.

Lutefisk is never eaten without some disguise. Before ever trying it, my wife noted that the stuff must taste bad, because you have to inundate it with melted butter before it will slip past your tongue.

Norway is close to the top of the earth, and we all know that people living near the North Pole have long winters with short days. That doesn't leave much time for being creative, unless it's under the covers with a mate. But in their few other minutes of daylight, these people have come up with some very nice dessert recipes. The most pleasant part of the lutefisk supper is the assortments of buttery cookies they serve to help get rid of the lutefisk taste. In truth though, it takes lots more than that.

As I sat writing this piece, my lutefisk supper host dropped off an article he found about the chemical agents in lutefisk. It begins, "Most people outside Scandinavia find it a somewhat peculiar dish." Really?

The article explains that the lye solution softens fish tissues by dissolving protein, but the resulting high alkaline content helps form new compounds, like lysinoalanine (or LAL). Rodents eating just 250 parts per million (ppm) for a week suffer kidney damage. It adds, "The LAL content of lutefish (lutefisk) can be as high as 300 ppm, which implies that this Swedish Christmas dish is quite unsuitable for rats." Someone needs to tell Ole and Lena.

I thought the Lutefisk Hotline (800-882-0212) might be a poison control center, but it turns out to be a fish company.

A recipe I have calls for placing the lutefisk in an ovenproof dish, sprinkling it with salt and covering it with foil. I suggest one slight change: After baking it for 35 minutes at 400 degrees, quickly throw it out, open the windows and go out for a pizza.

You may reach Jim Schuh at The Gazette, or by e-mail at jpschuh@excite.com.



	Lutefisk an easily acquired distaste for non-Scandinavians By JIM SCHUH of The Gazette I went to my first lutefisk dinner not long ago. One thing I can say is that no one died while I was there. It's possible someone had passed away earlier, however, because the aroma in the room wasn't what you'd find at the perfume counter. After learning the recipe for turning a normal fish of the sea into the Scandinavian "delicacy," I'd always thought that people could actually die from eating it. Soaking a piece of cod in a lye solution for a month doesn't exactly conjure up good eats. If you've consumed lutefisk, you know that it appears like warmed globs of Vaseline (sorry, Chesebrough Ponds), or perhaps little chunks of partially congealed flavorless gelatin. Friends down the street "treated" us to the lutefisk dinner. Although my birthday isn't for several months, they said the dinner was my present. I told them they must not like me very much. I found that lots of people at the lutefisk supper were Lutherans - Swedish and Norwegian Lutherans. I don't ever recall a Lutheran tenet that requires eating lutefisk and it got me wondering why the concoction was so popular among folks of that faith. It's impossible to think that Martin Luther, a good German, would have invented or even tasted lutefisk during his lifetime. I could find nothing in his theses or writings mentioning anything like lutefisk. My conclusion: there's no connection between lutefisk and Luther, except they're both on the same page in my dictionary. So it must be that a few early Norse fishermen - with nothing else to do - drank too much one cold and dark winter night, and while they were counting their catch, accidentally dropped a cod into a solution they normally used to clean drainpipes in their huts. After a month or so, someone noticed the fish in the bucket, pulled it out, wrapped it as a gift, and sent it to an enemy. The enemy, whose taste buds were impaired (apparently a common Scandinavian affliction - even today), thought it was a gelatin delight, and although foul smelling, was easy to chew. You take it from there. There weren't many young people at the lutefisk supper. Older rural Scandinavian (or Iolan) couples made up a significant part of the crowd. It was so much like being in Minnesota that I fully expected an overcome Garrison Keillor to stumble out of the kitchen and begin reciting Lake Wobegon tales. One fellow wore a hat that exclaimed, "I'm Norwegian," and below it, in smaller letters, "but I'm taking pills for it." Our hosts purchased buttons that read: "Pray for me - my husband is Norwegian," and "Pray for me - my wife is Swedish." Sponsors know fully well that not all of their guests are ready to place their lives in peril and down the doctored cod. You hear lots of people on their way out the door exclaim, "The meatballs were really good." They never acknowledge the featured fish. Läfse always seems to complement the lutefisk - the Scandinavians, whatever else they may be, are good at alliteration - lutefisk and läfse. Läfse is difficult to describe - unadorned, it looks and tastes much like thin, flaccid paperboard wedges. It begs for butter or jam or sugar and cinnamon. Lutefisk is never eaten without some disguise. Before ever trying it, my wife noted that the stuff must taste bad, because you have to inundate it with melted butter before it will slip past your tongue. Norway is close to the top of the earth, and we all know that people living near the North Pole have long winters with short days. That doesn't leave much time for being creative, unless it's under the covers with a mate. But in their few other minutes of daylight, these people have come up with some very nice dessert recipes. The most pleasant part of the lutefisk supper is the assortments of buttery cookies they serve to help get rid of the lutefisk taste. In truth though, it takes lots more than that. As I sat writing this piece, my lutefisk supper host dropped off an article he found about the chemical agents in lutefisk. It begins, "Most people outside Scandinavia find it a somewhat peculiar dish." Really? The article explains that the lye solution softens fish tissues by dissolving protein, but the resulting high alkaline content helps form new compounds, like lysinoalanine (or LAL). Rodents eating just 250 parts per million (ppm) for a week suffer kidney damage. It adds, "The LAL content of lutefish (lutefisk) can be as high as 300 ppm, which implies that this Swedish Christmas dish is quite unsuitable for rats." Someone needs to tell Ole and Lena. I thought the Lutefisk Hotline (800-882-0212) might be a poison control center, but it turns out to be a fish company. A recipe I have calls for placing the lutefisk in an ovenproof dish, sprinkling it with salt and covering it with foil. I suggest one slight change: After baking it for 35 minutes at 400 degrees, quickly throw it out, open the windows and go out for a pizza. You may reach Jim Schuh at The Gazette, or by e-mail at jpschuh@excite.com.