Broken Doll: Before I begin to explain lutefisk, I must remind you that there are certain questions you may not want to know the answer to. In light of this, if you find yourself experiencing the slightest amount of doubt concerning whether you really want to know about lutefisk or not, I urge you to skip to the next post immediately.
Ready?
I warned you.
Lutefisk (also known as lutfisk) is a Scandinavian delicacy, generally eaten around the time of the Christmas or New Year’s holidays, though lutefisk “season” lasts from autumn until February or so. The raw material, so to speak, is simply dried codfish. This was a staple of the Scandinavian diet for centuries; it’s nourishing and easy to store for long periods. The problem is that it must be soaked in water for a long time to make it soft enough to eat.
The unusual thing with lutefisk is that someone, somewhere, somehow decided to put lye in the water. Yes, lye, like you use to open drains. The fish is later soaked in plain water and the lye is rinsed out, but the damage has been done. The fish has a texture like gelatin and a smell that is like nothing else on the planet. It is generally served as the centerpiece of an elaborate meal, with boiled potatoes, a variety of sauces, mushy peas and copious amounts of beer and aquavit.
Unfortunately (or should that be fortunately?) I cannot tell you how it tastes. My nose will not let me put the stuff in my mouth.
I can certainly understand how you could get the idea that this whole thing is an elaborate practical joke, like the jackelope. But it isn’t. There are a significant number of people who love this stuff; there are lutefisk clubs, and restaurants that serve all-you-can-eat lutefisk banquets are booked up weeks, sometimes months in advance.
Flodnak, strangely enough, your description actually makes me want to eat the wonderful lutefisk (well, at least to sample it.) I suspect that the problem might be that, like haggis, anyone who decides not to like it has already done just that, and such people will find no point in trying it, having already made a decision. Any time I dare to read about what goes into sausages or hamburgers, I say to myself “Oh dearie me, what are things coming to?” (Actually , I don’t, I more often say “oh what the fuck…?” ) I do really like haggis, although being Scottish is a pretty good excuse, I suppose, but one day, I shall meet the amazing lutefisk. If I remain alive the following day, I shall post here to give my consumer’s report.
I’ve tried head cheese. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever attempted to eat in my life. Never, ever again. Never.
I love squid- I refuse to call it calamari. It’s squid dammit, and it’s perfectly respectable food. Sauteed in olive oil with lots and lots of garlic until it just begins to curl at the edges, then add fresh spinach, fresh lime juice and dry white sherry, bring it to just under a boil, then simmer it until the spinach is just wilted. Don’t cook it too long, or the squid will turn to rubber. The tentacles are the best part, BTW. Serve over very thin noodles or angel hair pasta. Yum.
My favorite seemingly unappetizing treat is blood sausage. Anybody know where in Vegas I can get some?
Being part Scottish and part Swedish I have been subjected to both of these questionable delicacies. Oats and barley cooked in a sheeps stomach or fish flavoured gelatin… mmm mmm good!
But really… doesn’t eating them sound like a fraternity entrance requirement?
Someone asked why they packed cod in lye to make lutefisk: The reason would be to preserve the fish for long sea voyages, lutefisk dates back to the time of the Vikings and was not always a delicacy. You can take lutefisk and throw it out on the street, nothing will touch it. I can’t believe that people will go out of their way and actually pay money to eat this stuff. It’s horrid. Haggis isn’t nearly as bad.
I’ve eaten haggis since childhood. Not much, but at family reunions someone has to bring it. It’s like any game meat, usually overspiced and greasy. You don’t want a lot, but you won’t gag.
c) no, the sheep in my neighborhood are too fast afoot.
But the most important part of a haggis is the correct beverage to consume with said haggis. And that is, a dram or two of sheep dip. Otherwise known as scotch whiskey.
Preferably, a good single malt. Hmmmmm… think I’ll have a haggis. I’m kinda thirsty.
To sum up Haggis, I quote from So I Married an Axe Murderer
Harriet Michaels: Do you actually like haggis?
Charlie Mackenzie: No, I think it’s repellent in every way. In fact, I think most Scottish cuisine is based on a dare.
