For the Love of Lefse
How a family recipe taught me about the person I want to be.
Americans of Norwegian heritage aren’t known for their warm and fuzzy dialogue. No, we are known for hanging on to old traditions and ways that make modern Norwegians roll their eyes. One of these traditions is the laborious process of lefse making. Lefse is a traditional Norwegian flatbread made of potato doe that is rolled out paper-thin and cooked until strangers ask, “Oh, is that a tortilla?”
In our family, lefse earned its place at every holiday and funeral for over 250 years. There are those of us who can make it, and there are relatives we talk about behind their backs. I suppose you can teach someone to prepare lefse although lefse is more than a recipe. It is the answer to the unmatched stoicism we’ve inherited. It is how we express love.
Here is what learning to make this Norwegian treat taught me.
Be judicious.
The potatoes must be russet. We like our potatoes like we like our men; stiff and full of starch. If the potatoes have eyes, they will likely stick when you roll them out, so choose them wisely. Make sure they are all relatively the same size, too, so they cook evenly. Do not come into this kitchen with that ugly potato!
Have patience.
Peel and boil whole until fork tender. Potatoes, when left whole, will take on less water. Yeah, sure, they’ll cook faster if you quarter them. But faster is not always better. Accept the potato for what it is, and don’t rush it.
Don’t waste an opportunity.
Rice ’em while they’re hot! You are anticipating your next step here. After this, you’re going to melt the butter, so get to work.
Give your very best.
Add good, unsalted, butter. Not Oleo, but butter. Let it melt, so the flavor is evenly distributed. Don’t put so much that the dough turns yellow. That’s just weird.
Be cautiously generous.
Lefse is not for skimping. Add the heavy cream. It will make your lefse smooth and well-rounded. Don’t put too much, or the dough will be thin, and your lefse will rip. Rip it too much, and I will throw you out of my house.
Don’t be too salty.
Add a little salt, but not so much that it is harsh. Add a little sugar, but not so much that the salt feels jealous.
Let it go, Elsa.
Your dough has to be thoroughly chilled. It will still be there in the morning for crying out loud.
Don’t be unchangeable.
Use a corrugated rolling pin for pretty grooves and even heat. Now is the time to power up the griddle, so it gets hot enough. Create a floured rolling surface, and cover your rolling pin with cheesecloth. If you don’t have a tube-shaped cheesecloth, cut the toe out of a clean sock and slide it on the rolling pin. Don’t be afraid to improvise and repurpose. Sometimes, change is necessary. I mean, gosh. Look at your Tante Lena there. She’s changed husbands three times now. The other two probably ate her lefse.
Find balance.
Use enough flour that your potato dough becomes workable. Use too much, and the flavor is lost. Use too little and you have a sticky mashed potato concoction that sticks to the rolling surface. Also, if you mix it too much, your dough becomes tough. It’s up to you to make sure these things don’t happen. Mind your own lefse.
Strive for perfection, but go easy on yourself.
Set a small patty of dough on the center of your rolling surface. Roll from the center out, and try to make it as perfectly circular as possible. Roll until the sheet of lefse is so thin, that you can almost see through it, but not so thin that it breaks, and Tante Lena will make fun of you.
Embrace the uffda.
Slide your wooden lefse turner under the lefse sheet. Carefully roll it onto the stick and then unroll it on to the griddle. If it breaks, that’s OK. Just say, “Uffda!” and cook it anyways. That will be your piece. Life is full of uffda. Do we have more Aquavit?
There’s almost always a next time.
Look for little brown bubbles erupting on the surface of the lefse to tell you the lefse is ready. If your lefse is crispy, you’ve rolled it too thin. Try harder next time.
Respect tradition.
Take the lefse that you worked so carefully to roll into perfectly round circles, and fold it into triangles. Do this without asking why. It is just what you do. Place in the lefse cozy Tante Lena crocheted last year, so she thinks we appreciated it.
Be tolerant.
Some enjoy cinnamon and sugar on their lefse. Others enjoy sausage or even salmon. Whatever. If you don’t want pølse or fisk in yours, then don’t have it. What other people put in their lefse is none of your business. Mind your own lefse, and don’t let those differences define you or them.
Love.
Look at your family. Just look. Ole and Lena ought to have feed bags. The kids are already crying for seconds, and your Mormor hasn’t even got her teeth in yet. Uffda! But these are your people. Love them. Someday, all you will have left of them are memories and a damn good lefse recipe.
