“The Story of a German About to Enjoy an Old Swedish Custom at Her Christmas Eve Supper” from the December 21, 1961 Door County Advocate
Looking Through the Door By Jim Robertson
The Story of a German About to Enjoy an Old Swedish Custom at Her Christmas Eve Supper
In our modern America, where nationalities are gradually giving way to a breed of people who are better off just calling themselves American rather than trying to identify themselves with any ancestry, it is a question just how long some of the old world customs that are still with us will continue to exist.
I might be considered a typical example. Although I am a true blue Scandinavian (and then actually a half breed, half Swede, half Norwegian), I married a girl who is predominately German but who can also claim a touch of old Norway, old England and whatever else might be thrown in from way back.
But now there’s enough of everything in our offspring that when they ask what nationality they might be, we tell them, “just say you’re an American.”
But when this Scandinavian hooked up with his German, he more or less resigned himself to German potato salad, sauerkraut and bratwurst when sitting down to a meal of anything that might be considered of old world origin. I hardly felt that a German would have any acquaintance with anything like lefse, kumla, lutefisk, fattigmand or krumkake.
I was right. She had never heard of them. Despite the fact that all her life she lived only a few miles from my Scandinavian neighborhood (on the other side of the swamp, I always say) she never knew delicacies like lefse or kumla even existed.
Now when I refer to lefse or kumla as delicacies, I know I am open to argument from non-Scandinavians in our midst. Tasting them is enough for the non-Scandinavian appetite, knowing what’s in them adds more weight to their argument. For lefse contains nothing but potatoes, shortening, salt and flour. Kumla is simpler yet—nothing but potatoes and flour.
And yet both are steeped in tradition, coming from the old country, and continued in our neighborhood. It was a happy moment indeed to walk into a house and find thin sheets of lefse browning on top of the old wood stove or kumla boiling in ham broth in a big pot on the same old stove.
The approach of Christmas season found the Norwegian women broadening their talents to things that might better be termed delicacies, things like fattigmand, krumkake and yule kake. And on Christmas eve, the traditional Juulgrot or plain ol’ rice and milk.
Thus, it came to pass that I was eventually to choose between lefse or kumla and a German who knew nothing of these things. It was a difficult choice, but eventually, love triumphed, and not love of lefse or kumla.
But wait, my story is not over yet. I was fortunate enough to have my Swedish mother stay with us for the first few months of our marriage until she became settled in her new abode. She was chief cook while my wife and I both labored in our premarital jobs. And one of the things I will always be thankful to my dear mother for was her serving of kumla. True, my German turned up her nose at first at the soggy dumplings made from nothing but potatoes and flour but eventually, topped with melted butter or hot bacon grease, they began to take hold.
Fate was also to enter in. Among the household items purchased in our early married life was a gas stove, complete with a large built-in griddle. I didn’t know it then, but it was to be as handy for turning out the large thin slices of browned lefse as the top of the old wood stove.
All this, then, was the beginning of a conversion. A slow conversion, to be sure, but it came. First, though, it required the arrival of a flock of little Scandinavians. I call them little Scandinavians because of their dislike for things like German potato salad, their love of things like lefse and kumla.
The conversion, I feel, became complete when my German bought a “Smorgassbord Cook Book” from the Ladies Aid of the Bay View Lutheran Church. This great moment can be compared to the moment in religion when the convert responds to the altar call.
True, it still requires some coaxing, but now we are able to get lefse and kumla fairly regular at our house. I say fairly because both require a great deal of time and effort. It’s a lot like getting anything done these days—it’s not the parts but the labor that’s so [very] expensive.
Not that my German has become as addicted as her husband to things like lefse and kumla; it’s mostly her conservatism that finds her rejoicing in the knowledge that her “rich blooded” family as she like to call it delights in foods made from nothing but flour and potatoes. And no doubt it is a little hard to understand why modern Americans will stoop to foods such as those eaten by hard-up Scandinavians who could afford nothing else but potatoes, flour and fish.
Even harder to understand is a German who will not only prepare these foods but who will, come Christmas Eve, delight in the old Swedish custom of having Juulgrot, for supper.
But I suppose stranger things have happened, and right here in Door county. Why even up north in the real Scandinavian country you can find Murphy Moore serving a Smorgasbord!
Courtesy of the Door County Library Newspaper Archive
[One euphemism is censored, meaning “vary”. The original and uncensored version is available from the Door County Library Newspaper Archive.
Fattigmand is a type of fried cookie, and is also spelled as “fattigmann”.]
Articles by Jim Robertson
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Christmas-related articles
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