The next door neighbor lady called a couple of days ago and invited Mary to come over and make fattigman with her. I'm sure glad she accepted the invitation because what she brought home tasted almost like those Ma used to make. No two look alike with all those crazy shapes they take on, but that just makes them interesting. Then, when coated with powdered sugar they taste mighty good!
Mary talked to my mother on the phone yesterday and learned an interesting tidbit that I think I heard once but had shoved so far back in the recesses of my mind that I never could have dredged it up. Dad's Swedish and German heritage did not include an appreciation for lefse, but my mother's, being 100% Norwegian, did. Grandma made it atop an old cook stove and it was exquisite. (This being the same cookstove I remember my grandpa strolling over to, lifting the lid in the firebox, and spitting his snoose juice into where I heard it make snap and crackle noises.) But back to the story. The first time my dad ate lefse was at my grandparents' place, and he must have liked it because he ate too much. She went on to tell how he then could not sleep that night and turned on the radio to help pass the time. It was then that they first heard the news of Japan's bombing of Pearl Harbor.
A couple more Norwegian treats come to mind: rosettes and krumkake. Of the four I've mentioned I have to say lefse stands at number one on the list, but the rest take close seconds, thirds, and fourths.
To complicate matters for our Norwegian brethren they are presently experiencing a shortage of butter. Milk production is down and adding to a shortage is a new fad of a high fat, low carb diet that seems to be sweeping through Europe. It has resulted in butter smuggling, rip off prices of six times normal, and even resorting to buying from Swedish shops. I feel sorry for them!
P.S. After reading the foregoing my wife reminded me gently but forcefully that the fattigman is a German goodie, too, although known by a different name: snowballs, pigs ears,
Mary talked to my mother on the phone yesterday and learned an interesting tidbit that I think I heard once but had shoved so far back in the recesses of my mind that I never could have dredged it up. Dad's Swedish and German heritage did not include an appreciation for lefse, but my mother's, being 100% Norwegian, did. Grandma made it atop an old cook stove and it was exquisite. (This being the same cookstove I remember my grandpa strolling over to, lifting the lid in the firebox, and spitting his snoose juice into where I heard it make snap and crackle noises.) But back to the story. The first time my dad ate lefse was at my grandparents' place, and he must have liked it because he ate too much. She went on to tell how he then could not sleep that night and turned on the radio to help pass the time. It was then that they first heard the news of Japan's bombing of Pearl Harbor.
A couple more Norwegian treats come to mind: rosettes and krumkake. Of the four I've mentioned I have to say lefse stands at number one on the list, but the rest take close seconds, thirds, and fourths.
To complicate matters for our Norwegian brethren they are presently experiencing a shortage of butter. Milk production is down and adding to a shortage is a new fad of a high fat, low carb diet that seems to be sweeping through Europe. It has resulted in butter smuggling, rip off prices of six times normal, and even resorting to buying from Swedish shops. I feel sorry for them!
P.S. After reading the foregoing my wife reminded me gently but forcefully that the fattigman is a German goodie, too, although known by a different name: snowballs, pigs ears,
