‘Tis the season. . .

. . .for Norwegian-Americans (and Swedish-Americans) to fondly poke fun at a Scandinavian winter dish, lutefisk. One of my favorite people in all the world is of Norwegian descent, and she introduced our family to the deliciousness of lefse (a thin potato bread) with butter and sugar, and geitost (a wonderful caramel-y cheese). We miss you Laura, come and visit!

For your holiday pleasure, some select verses of “O Lutefisk” (sung, of course, to the tune of “O Tannenbaum”):

O Lutefisk, O Lutefisk, how fragrant your aroma,
O Lutefisk, O Lutefisk, you put me in a coma.
You smell so strong, you look like glue,
You taste just like an overshoe,
But lutefisk, come Saturday,
I tink I eat you anyvay

Lutefisk, O lutefisk, how well I do remember.
On Christmas Eve how we’d receive our big treat of December.
It wasn’t turkey or fried ham.
It wasn’t even pickled Spam.
My mother knew there was no risk
In serving buttered lutefisk.

O Lutefisk, O lutefisk, you have a special flavor.
O Lutefisk, O lutefisk, all good Norvegians savor.
That slimy slab we know so well
Identified by ghastly smell.
O Lutefisk, O lutefisk,
Our loyalty won’t waver.

It really isn’t bad, in terms of smell or taste, but it is a bit unusual. God jul!

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