An Acquired Taste

Day 87: If you know what this is, I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you're either Norwegian or have close Norwegian friends, as I do. If you don't know what it is, I feel sorry for you, because despite its reputation, it's delicious. It's lutefisk.

Okay, I hear the "Ole and Lena" jokes bubbling to the surface already. You can't have lutefisk without them, or without lefse, mashed potatoes, melted butter and cream gravy. Traditional Norwegian fare, all of them, designed to get sun-deprived Scandinavians through the long, hard, lightless winters with a chuckle and a calorie count which should sustain a caribou until spring thaw. A bland diet, perhaps, but one which ensures against digestive disorders and other ailments caused by a lack of Omega-3s. Clothespins for noses are optional; some say the fragrance of lutefisk can be smelled for miles, but I assure you that the taste is as delicate as one could expect from whitefish. The gelatinous appearance defeats the chef's saying that "the first bite is with the eye," but if you were dining by the Northern Lights, I imaging the colors would refract beautifully in the lutefisk's translucence.

Since our usual New Year's dinner had to be postponed because of snow, today was Lutefisk Day at my fishing buddy's home. He and his family are Norwegian. I am not. But I will try anything once, and when he first introduced me to this savory delight some ten years ago, I was instantly hooked. All I can say to you who are not brave enough to try it is, "You don't know what you're missing!"