Fake Lefses: An Inquiry

This is lefse, a Scandinavian staple flatbread similar to tortillas that is traditionally made with potato flour in America. For many Norwegian-Americans, it is pure and unadulterated cultural heritage on a gridle, a near-sacred dish that is as manna from the Heavens:

(Credits: Lance Fisher, Wikipedia)

Norway, like Ireland, suffered a great deal of famine in its history, given the relatively scarce farming land and harsh climate, and when the potato was introduced to the region it became one of the staple crops and one of its saviors in times of scarcity, hence flatbread made with potato flour. When most Norwegians immigrated to America in the 19th century, it was in the midst of a famine, and as a result, many Norwegian-Americans have treasured family recipes for lefse passed down through generations.

These are not lefse:

These are not lefse at all.

They are tortillas.

And yet, these were the foundation of my Norsk sandwich last night (recipe: one buttered tortilla, some discounted, but still edible deli meat, and no questions asked).

And yet, to play off the theme of my previous blog post, I kind of have no desire to go out of my way to make traditional lefse. Firstly, the youtube videos I've seen paint it as a laborious and time intensive process that pays little dividends, so I'm already not willing to commit.

They would have gone store bought if they could have!

Secondly, neither do most Norwegians; they buy their lefse from the grocery store. Which is about what you'd expect from a country whose most consumed food is frozen pizza; needless to say, Norwegian culture is one of pragmatism.

So, as I mentioned last night, since my family just ate store bought bread, I had never even heard of lefse before I starting looking into our family history, and actually feel closer to my roots taking the path of least resistance and enjoying my tortillas and instant coffee with no shame.

My makeshift lefse dipped in instant coffee in front of a picture of the Norwegian King...It's called heritage.

Ultimately, I think remembering the past is never a process of desperately holding on, but rather finding an individual way to honor the spirit of those who came before, and try to breathe new life into the wisdom that they've passed down to us.

Also, this is more or less whatever it looks like whenever I try to work with flour in a kitchen.

Yeah, turns out flour can actually double as an explosive. Really.