Kansas Snapshots by Gloria Freeland - October 25, 2024

Lutefisk and Luna

After sitting in the pew for about an hour, the numbers "200-250" came up on the large screen to the right of the altar.

"That's us!" husband Art said.

We moved to the steps leading to the church basement with others who had been waiting. Art began chatting with Roger and his sister, who had brought their mother from Milwaukee - a trip of about two hours, just as ours had been. While we had come last year, they had never been. But their mother wanted to attend, so October 19 had been on their calendars for months.

Roger mentioned that, as someone who works in the chemical industry, he never associated lye with something he'd want to eat. His comment was prompted by knowing that the chemical best known as a drain cleaner was also used in the preparation of what would be our main course.

We and the others had gathered for the 106th annual Norwegian lutefisk supper at Northland Lutheran Church a few miles north of Iola, Wisconsin. While the fall colors had peaked the weekend before, birch trees and tamaracks provided a beautiful yellow canopy for our journey from our place in Three Lakes.

Our visit last year had included my sister Gaila, who was visiting Wisconsin for the first time. I had just recovered from Covid, and wasn't excited to go such a long distance for food I wasn't that thrilled about. But I was pleasantly surprised, and so we decided to return this year.

Serving had been advertised as starting at noon and ending at 6 p.m. We arrived this year at about 1:30 p.m. Men directed drivers where to park their vehicles on the crowded, grassy churchyard. We entered the church, paid for our meals, and were given cards with "233" and "234" on them, meaning 232 people were ahead of us.

The church ladies had baked items for sale, and the entryway was crowded with their offerings. We bought cherry cobbler, cookies, and a package of lefse, a traditional soft Norwegian flatbread made with riced potatoes, flour, butter, milk, cream, and lard and cooked on a large, flat griddle. It's much like a flour tortilla.

Our wait in the sanctuary seemed short as we had been entertained by a pianist playing hymns, and a fellow with an accordion-like button-box performing polkas.

Roger's statement about lye resonated with me, but the chemical is used in making such common foods as pretzels, bagels, olives, hominy, restaurant ramen noodles, canned mandarin oranges, and ice cream.

Salt had long been used by early humans to preserve foods by extracting water from them, but it was not readily available in Scandinavian countries. However, the cold climate allowed air drying without spoilage. But reconstituting the resulting ultra-dry fish filets by soaking them in water took a long time. Adding lye to the water sped things up. It also left the fish too toxic to eat, so soaking them an additional 10 days in fresh water was required.

The lye gives the flesh a somewhat translucent appearance that has been the source of much humor, such as describing the end result as "fish Jell-O." But, as Art said, "If people say they don't like lutefisk, why do so many keep showing up at these things?"

He was spot on. The slide show that had accompanied the music informed us that the first church service was on February 16, 1908, and the lutefisk suppers begann in 1915, with two years missed during World War I.

I was flabbergasted when the slides indicated that the supper typically involves 500 pounds of lutefisk, 300 pounds of meatballs, 350 pounds of potatoes, 39 cases of lefse, 48 pounds of butter, and 40 pounds of cabbage. Five gallons of coffee per hour are typically served on colder days.

Sprinkled throughout the slides were quotes that made me smile: "Friends don't let friends eat lutefisk" and "Keep calm and eat lutefisk.

Once a table for 10 was available, we were seated with Roger's gang and some locals. The food was brought out in large bowls and platters and served family-style. Multiple generations of families help at the event by cooking, serving, and cleaning tables.

The texture of the Norwegian lutefisk is more discernible as fish, whereas the Swedish variety I've had over the years is somewhat like fish mixed with mashed potatoes.

I loaded my plate with cod, lutefisk, meatballs and gravy, mashed potatoes, cooked carrots, coleslaw, and cranberries, and added a couple of pieces of lefse to "mop up" the gravy and cranberry sauce. The woman next to me said she likes to put butter on her lefse, and she said others add sugar and/or cinnamon.

Art and Roger had a lively conversation. They discussed various immigrant groups that had moved to Wisconsin and other topics.

After our meal, Art spent a few minutes speaking with the button-box player who was the nephew of someone Art knew when he was young.

Then we left the church and wandered to the nearby shed. Men ranging from youngsters to oldsters were engaged in steadily feeding trays of uncooked lutefisk into the large stainless steel cooking tubs heated with propane. About 15 minutes was all it took. Art was unsuccessful in receiving an answer to his question about what was in the liquid. He did see a bay leaf, but the men insisted the recipe was an old one secured from a captured Viking.

Later, as we headed home, I thought about the day before. I had seen a white doe under some birch trees just north of our cottage. Locals call her Luna.

It is said seeing a white deer is a good omen. While we had enjoyed the food, it was just part of a day when relatives, friends and even strangers could momentarily gather, just as they had done in an earlier simpler time. Roger must have sensed that as well as he had commented, "We live in a modern society, yet people come together for such an occasion, just like their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents."

The prophecy that arose from seeing Luna had been fulfilled.