I don't know why, but maybe it was all the mashed potatoes I had during Thanksgiving that made me think of it -- but I decided to make some lefse today.
Lefse is a Norwegian potato tortilla or pancake of sorts -- but it's not a meal, it's more of a dessert.
My Norwegian Grandmother taught me how to make it, and being raised in largely Scandinavian Lutheran churches, our youth group used to make it in large quantities to sell at a bake sale.
My ever-patient husband Brian has been politely informed that today there will be no disc golf, and very little football except for what he can hear from the kitchen -- because lefse is at minimum a 2-man (or 1-man, 1-woman in this case) operation.
Yesterday I went to the store and bought 20 lbs. of potatoes, and I boiled them, mashed them, and added the needed ingredients. Then I had to cool them overnight. The magnificently large bowl of potatoes wait for their last ingredient -- loads of flour -- to be mixed in til it's a big messy dough. This morning I prepped the kitchen by taking out a bunch of counter-top stuff, and creating stations -- one for mixing dough -- one for rolling it out -- a frying area -- and a cooling area.
The kitchen will be an unholy mess when it's over. But we'll have scads of lefse, to share with friends, freeze for Christmas when my Mom & brother come, and of course, to enjoy slathered with butter & sugar.
There's something about making lefse that makes me feel like I'm in touch with at least one branch of my crazy Heinz-57 family tree. My ancestors come from Norway (Grandma Dahlen), Sweden & England (Grandpa Peterson), France & Ireland (Grandpa Gunnette) and Denmark (Grandma Hansen).
With such a complicated ancestry, there are few things I know how to do that come from any of those countries and lefse is one of those things that just makes you feel Norwegian. I'm just a white girl from the States getting in touch with my roots, you might say.
Ya sure, you betcha!