Alright, so let me tell you about this whole Minnesota lutefisk dinner adventure I embarked on. It’s one of those things, you know? You hear about it, especially if you’re around these parts, and you kinda gotta try it at least once. For years, I’d heard the tales, some good, some… well, let’s just say ‘descriptive’.
Getting Started: The Decision
It all started a few months back. I was chatting with my neighbor, old Sven, a proper Minnesotan with Norwegian blood thicker than molasses in January. He mentioned his church was gearing up for their annual lutefisk dinner. He looked at me, with that knowing glint in his eye, and said, “You ain’t truly Minnesotan ’til you’ve faced the lutefisk!” Challenge accepted, Sven. Challenge accepted.
So, I marked it on my calendar. Convincing my wife, Sarah, was another story. She’s more of a… let’s say, a delicate palate. “Fish Jell-O?” she’d ask, wrinkling her nose. But eventually, she agreed to come along, mostly for the people-watching, I think.
The Hunt for Tickets and The Arrival
Getting tickets wasn’t like buying concert tickets online, nope. This was old school. I had to call the church office, talk to a lovely lady named Carol, and arrange to pick them up. Felt kinda wholesome, actually. Paid in cash, got a little paper ticket.
The day arrived, a bit chilly, perfect lutefisk weather, I suppose. We drove over to the church. You could smell it from the parking lot. Not a bad smell, mind you, just… distinct. A mix of boiled cod, butter, and something else I couldn’t quite place. The basement was buzzing. Long tables, folks of all ages, lots of Scandinavian sweaters. It was quite the scene.
The Main Event: Tackling the Lutefisk
We found our seats, shared a table with a friendly older couple who were lutefisk veterans. They gave us the rundown: “Lots of butter! And the white sauce, don’t skip the white sauce!”
Then came the plates. And there it was. The lutefisk. It was… translucent. Kinda wobbly. Like a fish that had seen a ghost. I took a deep breath.
- First, I tried a small piece, plain. Okay, texture is… gelatinous. Not much flavor on its own, a bit bland, to be honest.
- Next, added a dollop of melted butter. Better! Butter makes everything better, right?
- Then, the creamy white sauce. Now we’re talking! This actually made it pretty palatable.
It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as some make it out to be. It’s not something I’d crave every week, but it wasn’t bad. Just… different. Sarah, well, she mostly pushed it around her plate and focused on the side dishes.
Beyond the Fish: The Sides and The Vibe
And speaking of sides, those were fantastic! Hearty meatballs, swimming in a rich gravy. Potatoes, boiled just right. And lefse! Oh man, the lefse. Trying to spread butter and sugar on that thin potato bread and roll it up neatly was a challenge, but so good. There were also some green beans, probably to make us feel a bit healthier.
The best part, though? The atmosphere. Everyone was so cheerful. Lots of laughter. People sharing stories. It felt like a real community gathering. You could tell this was a tradition, something folks looked forward to every year. It wasn’t just about the food; it was about coming together.
Final Thoughts: The Verdict
So, what’s the verdict on my lutefisk dinner experience? I’m glad I did it. I really am. It was an experience, that’s for sure. Would I rush back next year? Maybe not for the lutefisk itself, but for the meatballs and the lefse, and just the overall vibe? Yeah, I probably would.
It’s one of those things that’s more than just a meal. It’s a piece of cultural heritage, a tradition passed down. And I got to be a small part of it. So, if you’re ever in Minnesota around lutefisk season, and you’re feeling adventurous, I say go for it. At the very least, you’ll have a good story to tell. And trust me, use plenty of butter.
