I wrote a couple of posts ago that I have two different
cooking groups (remember, it was here, about Bulgarian night, and I included
the recipe for that delicious rose water and pistachio pound cake.
That was group A (hosts choose theme and provide the
beverages, guests bring the food). This week it was group B’s turn. In that group (which we fondly and hilariously call Dinners of the World, Unite! or DOTWU!), we have all the countries in the world on little slips of paper in a bowl. Each
member gets to pick three (there was panic at the idea of picking
one and being stuck with someplace like the Marshall Islands) and then makes a
dinner for the group featuring the cuisine of that land.
We’ve had some amazing meals from Sri Lanka, Belgium,
Spain, Djibouti, Albania, Nicaragua, Mozambique, Italy and the Bahamas. And then
there was Norway.
I’ve always believed that the traditional food of any
country has something to offer. No matter how perverse a cuisine has become
(Olive Garden Fried Lasagna, anyone?), if you go back to its roots, you’ll
usually find fresh vegetables, interesting cooking methods, tasty spices
and herbs.
 |
| The Norwegian flag |
At least I used to think that, until I picked Norway. In
Norway, the winters are long. Like 10 months of the year long. There’s not
much of a growing season, so there aren’t a whole lot of fresh vegetables or
fruits. Or herbs. Most traditional dishes feature dill and parsley, salt and pepper. And
maybe cardamom. There are loads of sheep, so traditionally the Norwegians ate
mutton. And fish. Lots of fish. But the things they learned to do with fish,
well, they should be illegal. Fish pudding. Fish balls. Lutefisk, which is made
from whitefish (usually cod) that is dried, then soaked in lye until it reaches a gelatinous texture. I don’t know about you, but “gelatinous” is one of those
words I don’t like applied to anything I’m about to eat. Lutefisk, according to
one source, “has an extremely strong, pungent odor.” In other words, it stinks.
