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Celebrating with Rhubarb

Today is May 17, and as usual, I am completely offended. On March 17, everyone pretends to be Irish. For Cinco de Mayo, folks don sombreros and down margaritas. But when Norway’s national holiday, Syttende Mai, rolls around on May 17…nothing. No dinner deals, no special drinks, no wild debauchery. What gives? Where’s the Scandinavian love?

It lives in places like Vivian, with its annual Syttende Mai parade and rare springtime lutefisk supper, and at Nordland Fest in Sioux Falls. But that’s not enough. I will not rest until bars across the state offer Syttende Mai drink specials.

There’s just one problem. I have yet to come up with a suitable Norwegian cocktail to capture the public’s attention. Should it contain cream? Probably. Or how about equal parts aquavit and lutefisk cooking water with a butter ball garnish? Hmm… Maybe rhubarb margaritas?

Scandinavians do have an affinity for rhubarb, you know. Its fresh and springy taste goes well with sugar and cream. So until I can come up with a good Syttende Mai drink, let’s celebrate with something safe — a simple rhubarb pudding with plenty of whipped cream on top.



Rabarbagrot (Rhubarb Pudding)

From Norway-hei.com

1 1/2 lbs. rhubarb cut into 1/2 inch pieces
1 1/2 cups water
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
3 tbsp cornstarch
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup whipping cream
2 tbsp sugar

Heat 1 1/2 cups water and 3/4 cup sugar to boiling, stirring occasionally. Add fruit. Simmer uncovered until rhubarb is tender, about 10 minutes. Mix 1/4 cup water and cornstarch; stir into rhubarb mixture. Heat to boiling, stirring constantly. Boil 1 minute over medium heat while continuing to stir. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla extract. Pour into serving bowl or individual dessert bowls.

When ready to serve, beat whipping cream with 2 tablespoons sugar in chilled bowl until stiff. Spoon onto rhubarb pudding and serve.

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Surviving a Warm Winter

A wave of 29,000 Norwegians immigrated to America in 1882. Most ended up in the Dakotas, and we are benefitting from that infusion of common sense once again this winter.

I’m reminded every time I go to the post office or to Gramp’s coffee shop.

“Nice weather, huh?” someone will say.

“Yes but we’ll pay for it,” replies someone else of Norwegian descent.

Norwegians know that the secret to surviving winter is to not let oneself feel too happy or too sad. A really tough winter — the sort we suffered in 2009 and 2010 — tested our low ebb. Thus far in 2011, we run the risk of feeling too good.

But if you come from a country where darkness settles over the landscape for 60 days — a land where they believe that there is no bad weather, only bad clothing — you accept a 55 degree December day almost the same way you would endure a biting blizzard.

I am everything but Norwegian, but I admire the culture of humility, modesty and practicality. Thus I know that the best way to cope with these beautiful winter days is to pretend they are not occurring.

When someone at Gramp’s says,”How about this weather!” I’m going to tacitly suggest — maybe only with a nod or a roll of the eyes … maybe only with one eye — that it could be warmer. Or colder.

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Lefse: Step By Step

In our Nov/Dec 2010 issue, Rev. Kwen Sanderson shared his lefse-making technique with our readers. The Lutheran pastor has spent the last 20 years perfecting his lefse craft. Working with real potatoes can be problematic due to varying moisture content, so Sanderson recommends using potato flakes. To learn more about Rev. Sanderson and his lefse tips, read Rev. Sanderson’s Lefse Ministry.

Equipment needed: Pastry board, lefse iron or griddle, lefse stick, rolling pin

1 c water
3 c milk
1 stick butter
1 c cream
4 c potato flakes
2 c flour

Bring water, milk, butter and cream to a boil. Pour mixture over potato flakes. mix well and let cool overnight. In the morning (or when you’re ready to make the lefse), add flour. Makes 15 lefse.

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Reverend Sanderson’s Lefse Ministry

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the Nov/Dec 2010 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117. To view more photos of the lefse-making process, visit our step-by-step lefse gallery.

Sanderson likes the bubbles on his lefse a golden tan, not brown. He was taught the intricacies of lefse-making by one of his parishioners, but says he is still learning and trying new recipes 20 years later.

Rev. Kwen Sanderson calls himself”the shepherd to the Swedes,” a title he earned from 35 years of Lutheran ministry as well as a talent for rolling lefse. Sanderson and his seven siblings were born and raised in Sisseton, and then Brookings where the seven boys became successful wrestlers. Their lone sister, Joy, was a wrestling cheerleader. To qualify for their weight classes, there were times when they had to resist second helpings of their mom’s delicious lefse, which she made as a common side dish.

After his ordination, Sanderson became a lefse expert because it reminded him of happy childhood days, but also because it connected him to churchgoers.”I wanted to be able to discuss with Scandinavian farm women the intricacies of making lefse. It’s a way of talking about the values of the elderly and getting to hear their stories,” he said.”Plus it’s good and tasty.”

He became adept at the art of lefse while serving a church in Minnesota, where church janitor Ruth Hanson tutored him for several years. Eventually, he and Mrs. Hanson perfected a recipe using dried (or instant) potatoes.”It is so much simpler,” he says.”The problem with real potatoes is that the moisture content varies quite a bit. With dried potatoes it’s easier to work with and half the time.”

Mrs. Hanson also taught Sanderson to appreciate the most crucial moment of lefse making: recognizing when the dough has the perfect amount of flour.”That’s the key to making lefse,” says Sanderson.”That amount is known when you are kneading the dough and the dough doesn’t stick to your fingers, then you have the exact amount of flour.”

Of course, lefse-makers are traditionalists by nature so he has had many good-natured discussions with cooks who would rather peel a potato than open a box. He is also willing to argue with potato purists over which variety makes the best lefse.”I personally like Yukon Gold because it has a bit of yellow and adds color and some sweetness,” he says.”Pontiac Reds vary the most in moisture content so they’re tricky.”

Lefse, once a staple for the Sanderson clan, is now a holiday treat at Thanksgiving and Christmas. All the ex-wrestlers now eat it with generous lathes of butter and sugar. Some prefer brown sugar, others like white or powdered. And there are some cinnamon-lovers. All the extra calories haven’t made them heavyweights; the reverend, now 61, looks like he could make his high school weight class of 112 if he missed a meal or two.

Sanderson says lefse is also ideal as a tortilla or pita bread. He likes to stuff it with turkey, ham or mashed potato leftovers from a holiday feast.

For nine years, he was the pastor of Dalesburg Lutheran Church in Clay County, the congregation that hosts the well-known Midsommar Festival every June. That’s where he gained the title of”shepherd to the Swedes.” He helped the Dalesburg youth group prepare and sell lefse to earn money for their annual Bible Camp. Sanderson now lives in Yankton and ministers to inmates at St. Dysmas Lutheran Church, at the Mike Durfee State Prison in Springfield.

Lefse-making seems daunting to those who didn’t grow up in a Scandinavian household, but Sanderson said it is like wrestling, preaching, farming and a lot of other Midwestern activities. It’s something that will improve with time.”That’s the great thing about lefse,” he says.”It’s not an exact science. You’re always learning.”



Kwen’s Lefse Tips

  • Keep dough refrigerated until use. Sanderson always lets his dough sit overnight.
  • If the dough sticks to your fingers while handling, add a little bit of flour. But remember, you’re better off having less flour (and adding more slowly) than beginning with too much, because then”you’re up the crick.”
  • Use a corrugated rolling pin covered in an athletic sock to keep the dough from sticking to the pin.
  • Before rolling out each piece, lightly flour the pastry board to prevent sticking.
  • Sanderson sets his griddle at 475 degrees.”The trick is you want to get it hot enough to bake quickly, but not too quickly. If it is too low, the edges burn.” Burnt edges can also result from rolling the dough too thin.
  • Frequently wipe off the hot griddle — when flour starts collecting on the grill it hinders the cooking process.
  • After frying, be sure lefse is completely cooled before refrigeration, otherwise condensation will result.
  • Lefse rounds can also be put in the freezer for later consumption. They usually keep up to six months.

Sanderson welcomes questions about making lefse. Call 605-670-9877.

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Where’s the Sm¯r?

By John Andrews

I read with alarm last week that the country of Norway is facing a critical butter shortage. The story popped up on my computer as I was checking e-mail or Facebook or Twitter or something that I’ve become involved in on the World Wide Web. I’ll admit, I had to look twice to be sure the headline didn’t take me to a satirical story by the clever writers of The Onion. It took me instead to msnbc.com, which as far as I can tell still disperses”real” news.

It seems the butter shortage is the result of a perfect storm. A dry summer led to a 25 percent reduction in milk production. On top of that, Norwegians have taken to some new diet fad that emphasizes few carbohydrates and a high fat intake. Sounds like a pretty fishy diet plan to me, especially considering you don’t see many fat Norwegians to begin with.

“Norwegians are not afraid of natural fats,” said Lars Galtung, head of Norway’s largest farmer cooperative.”They love their butter and cream.”

Having grown up in a largely Norwegian family, I can say that Lars knows what he’s talking about. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that my grandmother, who came to South Dakota from Troms¯, Norway, in 1916, carried a pound or two of butter in her trunk, along with her other worldly possessions. Butter was a staple at”Farm Grandma’s” house. There was butter poured atop lutefisk, and butter spread on lefse or homemade bread. Only nobody called it butter. It was”sm¯r,” Norwegian for butter. It may have been the first non-English word I ever learned. We visited Grandma every Sunday, and I don’t ever remember not seeing the sm¯r tub out. Maybe it never made it back to the fridge because it was used so frequently. I suspect other South Dakotans who grew up Norwegian have similar memories.

Of course the butter-rich Danes are having a ball with this. Apparently a Danish talk show host made a tongue-in-cheek pledge of 1,000 packets of butter to help curb the crisis. I’ve tried to make a few satiric, good-natured comments about the situation to some of my Norwegian cousins on Facebook, but I’ve not heard a reply. I should keep my mouth shut — or rather, my fingers off the keyboard. I’d hate to be grouped with those snarky Danes.