Thanks Earl Alexander
O, LUTEFISK (sing to the tune of “O Tannenbaum”)
O lutefisk, o lutefisk, how fragrant your aroma.
O lutefish, o lutefisk, you put me in a coma.
You smell so strong, you liik like glue.
But lutefisk—-come Saturday
I think I'll eat you anyvay.
O lutefisk, O lutefisk, I put in the dooorvay.
I vanted you to ripen up, just like dey do in Norvay.
A dog came by and sprinkled you,
I hit him vid an army shoe.
O Lutefisk–Now I suppose
I'll eat you as I hold my nose.
O Lutefisk, O Lutefisk, how vell I do remember On Christmas Eve, how ve'd receive
our big treat of December.
It vasn't turkey or fried ham It vasn't even spickled spamMy mudder knew dere vas no risk, In serving buttered lutefisk..
O lutefisk, O luteffisk–now everyone discovers Dat lutefisk and lefse makes Norvegians better lovers.
Now all da vorld can have a ball—
You're better dan dat yeritol.
O lutefisk—vid brennevin–
You make me feel like young again!
The author of the lutefisk song, Red Stangeland, conducted a contest in
1989-90 for a new verse to be added to the song. I am happy to announce that I was the winner, and was awarded ten pounds of lutefisk for my efforts. The words to the new verse are as follows:
O lutefisk, O lutefisk, when my poor heart stops beating, The gates of heaven will open wide, I'll see the angels eating From steaming platters of the stuff, and there will always be enough, O piece of cod that I adore, O lutefisk forevermore!
Robert L. Lee
I think the lutfisk song is copyrighted by a Seattle comedian, Stan Boreson
If you check out his music links, you'll find he has
released several albums over the years.
I'll just remind everyone of a card I once saw at the Svensk Butik in
Kingsburg, CA. It depicts a boatload of Vikings. All the men except one are crowded down at one end which is low in the water while the other end is sticking way up in the air. Caption: “SOMEBODY has to sit with the lutefisk!”
Virginia Sholin Smallwood
LUTFISK LAMENT from Karla
Twas the night before Christmas with things all a-bustle, as mama got set for the Christmas Eve tussle. Aunts, uncles, and cousins soon would be arriving with stomachs all ready For Christmas Eve dining, While I sat alone with a feeling of dread, As visions of lutfisk Danced in my head. The thought of the smell made my eyeballs start burning; the thought of the taste set my stomach to churning, For I'm one of those who good Swedes rebuff, A Scandihuvian boy who can't stand the stuff. Each year, however, I played at the game to spare Mama and Papa the undying shame. I must bear up bravely; I can't take the risk of relatives knowing I hate lutfisk. Then out in the dark I heard such a clatter I yumped up to see What was the matter. There in the snow All in a yumble Three of my uncles had taken a tumble. My aunt, as usual, gave them what for and they soon were up and through the door. Then, from out in the kitchen, An odor came stealing that fairly set my Senses to reeling. The smells of lutfisk creeped down the hall, and wilted a plant in a pot on the wall. The others reacted As though they were smitten, While the aroma laid low my small, helpless kitten. Uncle Oscar and Lars said, “Oh, that is yummy!” And Kermit said, “That's good for the tummy!” And then, “Dinner time,” Said Mama, ringing a bell, As they rushed to the table With a whoop and a yell. I lifted my eyes
To heaven and sighed, And a rose on the wallpaper Withered and died. With my legs full of lead, I found my chair and sat in silence with unseeing stare. Most of the food was already in place; there remained only to Fill the lutfisk's space. “Var så god” And Papa came proudly with a bowl on a trivet you would have thought The crown jewels were in it. Then Papa lifted the cover on the steaming dish and I was face to face With that quivering fish. “Me first,” I heard Uncle Kermit call, While I watched the paint Peel off the wall. The plates were passed For Papa to fill. I waited in agony between fever and chill. He would dip in a spoon and all in a pile It oozed onto the plate-I thought I would die. Then came my plate and to my fevered brain, There seemed enough lutfisk to derail a train. With butter and cream sauce I tried to conceal it; I salted and peppered but The smell would reveal it. I drummed up my courage; I tried to be bold-Mama said, “Eat it before it gets cold.”
I decided to face it-“Uffda,” I sighed. “Uffda, indeed,” My stomach replied. Then I summoned that resolve For which us Vikings is known, My hand took the fork with a mind of its own, And with reckless abandon That lutfisk I ate; within twenty seconds I cleaned up that plate. Uncle Kermit flashed me an ear-to-ear grin, As butter and cream sauce Dripped from his chin. Then, to my great shock, He whispered in my ear, “I'm so glad that's over for another year!” It was then I learned A great and wonderful truth That Swedes and Norwegians From old men to youth must each pay their dues to have the great yoy of being known as a Good Scandihuvian boy. So to all of you, As you face the great test,
Happy Christmas to you And to you all my best.
Can someone explain Lefse?
Lefse is Norwegian thinbread.
In case someone does not reply to the Lefse question, I will.
Lefse is made of riced potatoes, flour, salt… rolled out very thin - very
thin - and then fried on a griddle. If you are truly a lefse maker, you will
have a round griddle for them. You will also have a lefse rolling pin, which
has grooves to help make them very thin. You can do the potatoes without
the ricer, but it's more difficult. You can also buy lefse mixes, for faster
results. You will also need something to lift the lefse off the griddle to
turn them over and then lift off. Most use a flat stick. Then, you lay each
one on a towel, cover with another towel and continue on. I was raised
putting sugar and butter on them, roll them up and eat.
I love them. I was just looking for some in the store the other day, but
none yet. They are found in the dairy section with the tortillas, at least
in our store. They will appear by Thanksgiving and stay around through at
least Christmas. I have made them with my mother and I have an aunt who
makes them each year for our Thanksgiving dinner. I was taught how to make
them by another woman years ago.
Many makers have the equipment their own mothers used. If you don't have any
of this, there are Scandinavian stores and catalogs that will sell them. In
our area, they are easier to find - Wisconsin and Minnesota, as there are
lots of us Norwegians/ Swedes around.
Though I had eaten lefse all my life, it was not until I was an adult that I
learned how to make many of these things - I had never seen a Krumkake iron
until I was in college.
Lynn and Kris Farley