Lutefisk and Meatballs- or you think Southern Cooking is Strange?

Wednesday 11/11/2009.  As I make coffee and consider the wisdom of going to work today- I fired up my trusty laptop to get my Facebook fix.  I was confronted with the following post from Sister.

World's scariest foods1 /16Lutefisk What it is: Dried fish (usually cod or haddock) cured with lye and then rehydrated by boiling or steaming Where it's served: Norway, Finland, Sweden ... and Minnesota Want a bite?:
Vikings ate lutefisk, although it has not yet been proven that the consumption of this revolting stuff is... why they went forth and attacked and pillaged everybody who might have had better food. While this time-consuming, hideously smelly, gelatinous fish preparation has its roots in Scandinavia, lutefisk is now one of those old-world delicacies that's primarily consumed by second-generation Americans, mostly in Wisconsin and Minnesota, at lutefisk suppers that run from October to January. What draws all these otherwise sensible Mid-westerners together year after year? Fish soaked in lye until it practically turns into soap—the residue is caustic enough to dissolve the finish on silverware and plates. File under "stuff to eat before it eats you," we suppose. 

My reply- 
On Saturday 11/7 I was kidnapped by a Mad Swede and taken to their lair in Blair Wisconsin and subjected to the annual ritual of the Lutefisk and Meat Ball Supper at a Lutheran Church. I suppose it was an attempt to exact revenge for my professed affinity for grits, collard greens and black-eye peas which was given birth by my Confederate heritage. I'm a Norwegian by ancestry but can honestly say that I'll take sushi and raw oysters over fish-soap jello for dinner til my dying day. Guess that means I can't run for Ms Westby during Syttende Mai. Hopefully other lovers of the gelatinous ancestral comfort food will give me a grudging nod to my pride in my Norwegian roots due to the fact that I do adore lefse.

Sister-
I guess that since we are only part Norwegian, that makes it ok to not like fish jello, but Lefse is definitely DA BOMB! It also leaves room for the grit lover in all of us...(and black eyed peas, corn bread shaped like corn, greens etc...) Sounds like a good cut and paste to the blog....ahem!

My reply-
Found this quote-Lutefisk is cod that has been dried in a lye solution. It looks like the desiccated cadavers of squirrels run over by trucks, but after it is soaked and reconstituted and the lye is washed out and it’s cooked, it looks more fish-related, though with lutefisk, the window of success is small. It can be tasty, but the statistics aren’t on your side. It is the hereditary delicacy of Swedes and Norwegians who serve it around the holidays, in memory of their ancestors, who ate it because they were poor. Most lutefisk is not edible by normal people. It is reminiscent of the afterbirth of a dog or the world’s largest chunk of phlegm."Thanks to- Garrison Keillor's book Pontoon.
Even Funnier- The Wisconsin Employees' Right to Know Act specifically EXEMPTS lutefisk in defining "toxic substances". BWAHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAH!

Sister-
MMMMM I think I will take a pound of desiccated squirrel cadaver, with a side of dog afterbirth, and the worlds largest chunk of phlegm for desert...Do this in memory of me...an ode to lutefisk.
Sister-
sorry, dessert...I hate it when people misspell words.

Me-
God takes care of drunks, children and old maids (Thank you, Miss Julia) as well as wayward confused children of Southerners and German-Norwegians (my addendum) and did hear my prayer, "Lord, protect us from what we are about to consume." God's mercy enabled me to thus live up to my upbringing to be polite. Mom subsequently asked me how the "fish jello" was. I related the above and told her that the meatballs were good but that Grandma would have been disappointed in the mashed potatoes which were kinda lumpy. (Yes, I have lived among second and third and fourth generation Norwegian-Americans for far too long which explains the word 'kinda' along with phrases such as 'ya fer shur' and 'ya betcha'.  However when I visit the south I quickly revert to 'Y'all', much to the amusement of any Yankee friends that may be in attendance.)  Gramma Schorch didn't stand for lumpy mashed potatoes.  60 plus years of beating potatoes into creamy smooth goodness with a hand masher made her the hand's down authority on what should be expected in a pile of mashed potatoes. Gramma's obsession with smooth texture when it came to annihilating the humble spud resulted in eventually beating a hole in the pot that said spuds were boiled and subsequently mashed in. Mom still has the pot which is stored in the ancestral steamer trunk which contains other mementos of Scandanavian family history.