To Lefse, Lutefisk, and Love by Kirsten Roverud Heine

To Lefse, Lutefisk, and Love

by Kirsten Roverud Heine

Rolling pin for lefse, 1870. Birch. Vesterheim 1993.057.002–Gift of Eunice Kjorlaug.

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grew up in a family where my grandparents still spoke Norwegian—especially when they did not want the grandchildren to understand what they were saying. My grandfather—nicknamed Lars after a Norwegian ski-jumper who was famous during his youth— recalled attending his first day of school in Preston, Minnesota, and not being able to speak a single word of English. Rather painfully, he also remembered coming to school with his lunch pail packed with lefse, when what he really yearned for was to have a sandwich made with delicious white Wonder Bread, like all of the other town kids had. His mother Mathea, my great-grandmother, always said the Norwegian Table Prayer at every meal—and you were expected to say it right along with her. She poised her tiny frame on her chair, bowed her head, folded her arthritic hands, and then, in the stillness of the room, you heard her quiet words of blessing. With her strong accent, they were like a song rolling off her lips.

My family’s story probably isn’t that different from many others. It is about assimilating and yet holding dear a special ancestral connection. With so many of our family icons no longer with us, these connections, stories, and the feelings that they stir up mean even more today. Many connections are kept alive through family culinary traditions.

It is said that a culture’s food traditions are the ones that survive the longest. Immigrants may give up clothing, mannerisms, and language, but they seldom totally relinquish their food traditions, perhaps because those traditions are so often associated with special occasions of family togetherness.

How many sixth-generation descendants of a Norwegian immigrant still know about lefse and still serve it at special times like Christmas?

How many still eat lutefisk? OK, well maybe that is not a fair question. Do people really enjoy lutefisk? I must admit that it is still prominently served at our Christmas Eve meal. My

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grandmother and my mother both claim they actually enjoy it. My husband David takes his obligatory son-in-law helping with a smile (and an uff-da under his breath). But lutefisk is still served because it has always been that way. It is a tradition.

We also still serve homemade Norwegian meatballs, lefse, flatbrød, rømmegrøt, krumkake, kringle, sandbakkel, fattigmand, julekake. These are no longer made by my great-grandmothers, great-aunts, and grandma, but rather by my mom, sister, and me (now with a little help from our own young children).

Each of these foods carries with it its own story of the relative who was “famous” for making it and of our greater Norwegian-American family traditions.

Mari Mineck enjoying lefse.

Photo: Dr. David Heine.

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The family of my great-grandmother, Mathea, came from Ringerike, Norway, and they settled around Lanesboro, Minnesota. She lost her husband at a young age and never remarried. My grandfather was an only child who was sent back home during World War II to take care of the family farm.

“Grandma Mattie,” as she was affectionately called, was a very petite woman with a twinkle in her eye and a palpable spirit. She worked hard her entire life, but always was grateful for what she had been blessed with. I remember, like it was yesterday, visiting her in her Rochester, Minnesota, apartment.

Although she was 92, she still served beautiful homemade Norwegian goodies. She would take out her best china, even if you were only there for afternoon coffee. Her recipes call for “butter the size of an egg” or “enough flour until smooth.”

It wasn’t about the exact measurements—it was all from her heart and from years of practice.

One of my favorite recipes of hers is for “spudnut” doughnuts. Smelling and tasting these delicious doughnuts instantly brings me back in time to her little kitchen. Today, I am lucky to have her small kitchen pantry cupboard that she ordered in the 1920s from the Sears and Roebuck Company, in my own kitchen. Not a day goes by that I do not think of her and the yummy spudnut doughnuts, which would have been wrapped carefully in their tins and displayed on the shelves of this little cupboard.

Great-grandma Mathea Haugen’s Spudnut” Doughnuts

family of 20 hungry children. Working in her gardens was her quiet meditation and faithful devotion, as well as her vocation.

Now, I am the one tending to and nurturing all of my gardens—planting, weeding, thinking, and praying—all the while knowing that Mildred is right there with me, smiling.

I think that she would be proud of our gardens, our canning, our baking, and our sharing, especially now that two young assistants—our sons Zachary and Andrew—eagerly help us.

Inquisitively and thoughtfully they ask “Why do we grow this kind of tomato? Why do we have to have our potatoes in the ground before Good Friday? Why mom, why? Can we pick this one yet?” Our gardens are no longer the quiet meditative escape that they once were, not all of the rows are neatly aligned, and the soil is not perfectly weeded, but it is an absolutely enriching family time together.

Mildred had a simple kitchen and, for much of her early adult life, she cooked over a wood stove—and her krumkake still turned out perfectly! Well into her late eighties and nearly blind, she was still cooking away in her quaint kitchen. I imagine that, over the course of her life, she made thousands of lefse rounds with her well-seasoned cast-iron griddle. Now each year I look forward to the day boldly penciled “lefse” on my calendar. My mom, sister, and I gather for a full day of potato fun! We faithfully use Mildred’s recipe. Fortunately for us though, we no longer have to rely on a cast iron griddle, but are lucky to have a nonstick Teflon electric griddle. Even then, we struggle to get them looking as good as great-aunt Mildred’s!

1 cup mashed potatoes 1 cup sugar Butter “the size of an egg” 2 eggs, beaten 4 tsp. baking powder 1/2 tsp. salt 1 tsp. vanilla About 3 cups flour Take out 2-3 Tbsp. flour to use when rolling out the doughnuts. Cream the butter and sugar together.

Mix in the mashed potatoes. Mix in the eggs, one at a time. Mix in the remaining ingredients. Don’t overmix. Roll out on a floured board to about ¼-inch in thickness. Cut out the doughnuts with a doughnut cutter. Fry in hot oil about 2-3 minutes on each side.

Drain and cool on absorbent paper towels. Enjoy with coffee. Store in an air-tight container.

I also have great-grandma Mattie’s handmade lefse stick, now over 100 years old and worn so thin by use that it is almost like paper. A priceless family treasure, it is used with a sense of respect and nostalgia each year when we make our lefse.

My colorful great-aunt Mildred lived on a farm outside of Harmony, Minnesota. She and her husband never had children, so my mom and my uncle quickly became her “treasures.” She had huge, beautifully kept gardens. One would have thought, by the sheer size of them, that she had a 6

The author’s great-grandmother, Mathea Haugen, in the early 1960s.

Behind her is the Sears and Roebuck cabinet that is now in the author’s kitchen. Photo courtesy of the author.

Vesterheim

Learning to make lefse and other Norwegian specialties in the very simple kitchen of the author’s great-aunt Mildred, Harmony, Minnesota, 1988. From left to right, Mildred, the author’s mother, Marilyn Roverud, and the author. Photo courtesy of the author.

Great-aunt Mildred’s Lefse 4 cups Idaho russet potatoes (must be russet), riced 1 1/2 tsp. salt 4 Tbsp. margarine 1/4 to 1/3 cup cream About 1 cup flour Boil potatoes and drain well. Rice potatoes. Now add salt, margarine, and cream. Mix well. Chill until thoroughly cool, best overnight. Add about 1 cup flour to cooled mixture, according to feel—should feel smooth, not sticky. Shape into a log 3 inches wide and 2 inches deep. This will make 12-16 slices of lefse. Mark off slices, each about 1 1/2 inches thick. Refrigerate the log, removing one slice at a time, so that the remaining dough does not get sticky. Lightly dip the first slice in flour and roll out on floured lefse board until thin. Remove with a lefse stick and place on a griddle. Cook until bubbles and small brown spots appear, then flip and cook the other side about 1 minute. Lay flat on a cotton towel to cool, and cover with cotton dish towel to keep from drying out. Serve and eat immediately, or can be frozen.

I smile when I think of my great-aunt Mildred. She once drove down in her old but “good as new” car, which was overflowing with treats, and delivered them to me at Luther College. Food was Mildred’s calling. She was easily identifiable as one of the original Lutheran Church Basement Women.

She was constantly cooking and serving in the church kitchen, Vol. 6, No. 1 2008

sharing her love and devotion for those around her with delicious homemade treats. I am most grateful that, when we asked Mildred to teach us how to make all of these Norwegian recipes, she not only obliged, but was truly honored to share the traditions, secret ingredients, and special techniques with us.

I am fortunate to have my paternal grandmother still alive and living close by. We all adore Grandma Ruthie—especially my two boys! Her family came from the Hardanger and Stavanger regions of Norway. No Christmas dinner at my grandparent’s home would be considered complete without a large platter of flatbrød. It is always a coveted favorite. Many times there even have been accusations of not sharing the platter—“forgetting” to pass it around the table. Years ago in little Spring Grove, Minnesota, my grandparents would order, months in advance, flatbrød from a woman named Olive. It was considered the best that there was. My grandmother kept trying to decipher that recipe for herself little by little, certain that Olive never quite shared all of the ingredients. Now at nearly 86, she is still making wonderful flatbrød for every family Christmas dinner. My mom, sister, and I have also perfected this must-have recipe and can proudly serve our own handmade flatbrød!

Grandma Ruth’s Flatbrød 2 cups flour, sifted 2/3 cup corn meal 1/4 tsp. salt 1 Tbsp. sugar 1 stick margarine—use a little part of butter 1/2 tsp. soda 1 cup buttermilk Mix all ingredients. Chill. Roll out into a very thin circle on a lightly floured lefse board. Cut into quarters. Place on baking sheet. Bake at 400° F. for about 12 minutes, or until golden brown.

Another food guaranteed to be at my family’s holiday table was rømmegrøt. I distinctly remember coming home after Christmas Eve church and one of the first things that my mom would prepare was the rømmegrøt. She would begin by warming the cream, being careful not to let it scorch. It would need to be stirred constantly—all the while she was simmering the Norwegian meatballs, cooking the potatoes, and putting together the rest of our holiday feast. It always appeared to be an effortless task for my mom and my grandmothers to serve this delicious meal—and they always had fun together in the kitchen.

I remember that, on the way home from my grandparents’ home in Minnesota on Christmas Day—and, yes, we did have a Norwegian traditional meal on that day too—my sister, who was only four years old, sat quietly in the car and finished the whole container of rømmegrøt that my grandmother had sent home for us to have the next day. Needless to say, her little tummy was really quite upset. Despite this, my sister continued to love rømmegrøt, so much so that, on her birthday each August for many years during her childhood, she would request rømmegrøt instead of a typical birthday cake. My mom would try to quickly set the candles in place in the big 7

crystal bowl that was nearly overflowing with rømmegrøt, light them, and start the birthday chorus, while my dad tried to capture at least one photo before the candles sank into the creamy, buttery porridge. My sister now has two little girls of her own. This year at Christmas her eldest daughter Mari, who is three, had a familiar mischievous smile when Grandma announced that it was time for the rømmegrøt to be served!

Imagine that!

Mom’s (Marilyn Roverud) Rømmegrøt 1 qt. cream 3/4 to 1 cup flour 1/2 tsp. salt 1/4 lb. butter Scant 1/4 cup sugar Melt the butter, and mix with the flour and salt.

Slowly add half of the cream. Put back on stove before adding the second half of the cream. Add the sugar last. Cook on medium low heat so as not to burn, stirring constantly with a whisk until it is thick.

Top with melted butter, cinnamon, and sugar.

The author’s mother, Marilyn Roverud, helps cook Thanksgiving dinner at her parents’ home in Caledonia, Minnesota, 1967.

Photo courtesy of the author.

One woman who captured many hearts with her homemade Norwegian treats was Decorah’s Arlene Strum.

In her youth, while singing in the First Lutheran Church choir, she caught the eye of a young Luther College student who was there attending the worship service. His name was George Strum. He finally was able to find the courage to ask her out—and, well, the rest is history. Together they dutifully served many Lutheran congregations—George nourishing his 8

Never too many cooks. Back, from left to right, Suzanne Roverud Mineck, Marilyn Roverud, Kirsten Heine. Front, from left to right: Mari Mineck, Zachary Heine, and Andrew Heine. Photo: Dr. David Heine.

parishioners with words from the pulpit and Arlene nourishing them with her food. The couple retired in Decorah and my family adored them!

One Christmas the weather was terrible and prohibited any form of travel. My parents quickly realized that George and Arlene would not be able to make it to be with their own children and would be alone for Christmas, so they were promptly invited to join our family for our Norwegian Christmas dinner. We had lutefisk, meatballs, lefse—all the favorite traditional family recipes we looked forward to each year—and they happened to be exactly what the Strums served every year, too, including Arlene’s famous krumkake.

After that special night, they were quickly adopted as our “Decorah grandparents” and they shared in all of our milestone markers growing up. Years later, when I had just gotten engaged, they invited my fiancé, David, and me over for coffee. Well, this was no ordinary coffee. The best china was set out, flowers adorned the table, and many candles were lit. It was an occasion, a celebration with friends. Arlene served her famous krumkake and flatbrød, replenishing David’s plate as soon as he politely finished a treat. I imagine that he ate at least 20 krumkaker during that wonderful coffee.

The secret ingredient in Arlene’s krumkake was that George and Arlene made it together. It was their special tradition. They shared a unique, transcending love and passion for one another. It radiated from each of them—right up until their deaths—and it found its way into the food they made.

They had a profound impact upon my life—my sense of faith, family, heritage, and love. Their krumkake baking days together are the perfect example of their love for each other.

George was one of the ministers that married David and me six months later, and they gave us our first electric krumkake iron, along with their recipe for enduring love.

Vesterheim

Krumkake

(Arlene and George Strum and my Grandmother Ella Haugen) 1 cup sugar 1/2 cup butter 1 egg 1 tsp. vanilla 1/8 tsp. salt Pinch of baking powder 1 cup milk 1 1/4 cup flour

Krumkake iron, made by OM & S, ca. 1905. Originally owned by Anna Nyhus.

Cream together the Vesterheim 1998.051.005–Gift of sugar and butter. Add Evelyn G. Newhouse. the egg and cream again. Mix in vanilla, salt, and baking powder. Add the milk and flour, each a little at a time, alternating the milk and flour. Drop approximately 1 tsp. of batter onto an electric krumkake iron, close, and cook until golden brown, approximately 3 minutes, though each iron cooks differently. Use a conical krumkake pin to roll each cookie into a cone. Be careful, because the cookie will be very hot. The recipe makes about 75 cookies. Cool and store in an air-tight container.

It is hard to separate the emotions from all these food traditions. They are inextricably connected. But, that is good.

It is a good thing that hearing the word lefse warms so many hearts. It is good because we all come with our own unique stories and connections, and we can better understand our neighbors by appreciating and understanding ourselves. For it is not simply about tasting the delicacies, but about savoring what they represent. It is heritage coming full circle, and it ultimately reveals the magical, priceless recipe for life.

Easter celebration with the Wigdahl, Haugen, and Roverud families, 1966. Pastor Wigdahl, the author’s great-grandfather, presides at the head of the table. Photo courtesy of the author.

Glossary

Fattigmand: A thin cookie cut in the shape of a diamond, square, or rectangle and deep fried to a light golden brown.

Flatbrød: a traditional dark-grained unleavened bread that is usually flat and crisp like a cracker.

Julekake: Norwegian Christmas bread, baked with yeast and shaped into a loaf, similar to a fruit cake.

Kransekake: A traditional dessert, usually eaten on special occasions such as weddings, baptisms, Christmas, or New Year’s Eve. Kransekaker take the form of a series of concentric rings of cake, layered on top of each other in order to form a steepsloped pyramid. The ideal kransekake is hard to the touch, yet soft and chewy.

Kringle: A thick, doughy cookie in a pretzel-like knotted shape.

Krumkake: These thin, round cookies are made in a special decorative two-sided iron griddle, similar to a waffle iron.

While still hot, the 5-8” krumkake are rolled into cones around a wooden cone form. Krumkake can be eaten plain or filled with whipped cream or other fillings.

Lefse: A thin, soft, round flat bread cooked on a griddle. There are regional variations, but the most common is made from potatoes, flour, butter, and cream. It can be served in different ways, but the most popular in the United States is with butter and sugar or with a sausage rolled up inside (varme pølse).

Rømmegrøt: A cream porridge, served warm with a drizzle of clear butter and cinnamon sugar if you wish. Rømmegrøt is very smooth and rich, making it a treat for special occasions.

In the United States what we call rømmegrøt is really fløtegrøt in Norway. The word rømme means sour cream, so true rømmegrøt was made with sour cream instead of the sweet cream we are used to.

Sandbakkel: A small tart-shaped cookie formed in shallow sandbakkel tins, usually served plain but may be served with an almond filling or whipped cream and berries.

About the Author

The author’s grandmother, Ella Haugen, relaxes with a cup of very Norwegian coffee and dessert after a family gathering in Caledonia, Minnesota, early 1960s. Photo courtesy of the author.

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Kirsten Roverud Heine is a former Vesterheim development officer and continues to volunteer regularly at the museum. Kirsten graduated from Luther College and happily lives in the Decorah area on a “Norwegian farm” with her husband David, two sons, and several fourlegged furry family members.

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