Lutefisk: n., lit. lye-fish, or the gelatinous, fish-like substance preserved in lye popular among Scandinavian populations of the upper Midwest; originally a cheap, heavily-preserved food used among Norwegian peasants, many Norwegians now wonder why American Lutherans still eat, and even enjoy, this disgusting "delicacy."
I'd been warned that this would happen: the annual lutefisk dinner fundraiser. You can't intern at a Lutheran church in this area without being expected to eat the fish of affliction.
Garrison Keilor once remarked that lutefisk is the Lutheran version of matzoh. Nobody actually likes it, but they eat it as a way of remembering the suffering of their ancestors. (Which, surprisingly, is untrue. There were many people who thoroughly enjoyed their dinners and went back for seconds.)
And of course, I tried it. If my mom can eat blood sausage in Germany and silkworm larva in South Korea, than I can suffer through lutefisk.
Or so I thought. My mistake, apparently, was chewing. I should have just swallowed, like the jello shot of lye-preserved fish.
Pictures later, but first, a video of my reaction:
For those wondering, it was less the taste than the consistency. You know those powdered "scrambled eggs" they serve in cafeterias, the dehydrated-then-reconstituted variety you've probably had at IKEA or in cheap restaurants? It's sort of like that, but with less flavor. It sort of falls apart when chewed and then refuses to be swallowed.
The rest of the dinner was great. Lefse (potato-based flat bread), Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes, almond cake. Almost enough to make you forget you had eaten lutefisk.
Lutefisk: In All of Its Glory
Yum...?
Take Some Home, Dare Your Friends
Norwegian Pride
Lefse (with Butter and Brown Sugar)
Almond Cake
Wonderful
So, if you ever find yourself on internship in the Midwest and are faced with a plateful of lutefisk, here's some advice: you only need to eat two bites to satisfy everybody. And, when asked how you like it, here's your go-to response: "The lefse and the meatballs were great. And, as I understand it, if you're the type of person to enjoy lutefisk, this is about as good as it gets."
Where was Suzanne for all of this, you may ask? Conveniently absent.
And even better, while daily admission is $5, an annual pass is only $25 (less than half the cost in Georgia).
Even better than even better? We live about ten minutes from one of these parks (and within forty-five minutes of several more).
You might know that Minnesota is the "land of 10,000 lakes" -- which is actually closer to 12,000. One of these lakes is a park just down the road -- and they rent out canoes.
Nearby Lake
Suzanne on our outing
Just a word of reminder: canoeing is difficult if you're not used to it, and winds make it even more so.
Up near Suzanne's office, there is yet another park -- Fort Snelling. It sits at the confluence of the Minnesota and Mississippi Rivers.
Hawk Feather at Fort Snelling SP
Minnesota River from Fort Snelling SP
Panoramic of Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers at Fort Snelling SP
Confluence of Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers at Fort Snelling SP
Fort Snelling connects via paved walking path to Minnehaha Falls, part of a long chain of city parks. One Saturday, Suzanne and I took full advantage of our annual park pass and free time to make the quick jaunt from the state park over to the city, down some stairs to the banks of the Mississippi, through some surprisingly rugged terrain (considering that it rests between the major cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul), to the falls itself. There were moments when the walking path rivaled parts of the Appalachian Trail -- not quite the paved, broad way that connects Minnehaha to Snelling.
Minnehaha Falls -- Paved walkways up top, rugged hiking path down below
The same park system that connects Fort Snelling to Minnehaha Falls permeates the Twin Cities. It's a metropolitan area which places high value on green space. (And, much like Germany, the paths are divided into pedestrian and bike lanes.) We met some of Suzanne's friends at a pub on Lake Street, but before dinner, we took the opportunity to explore some of the walkways and dip down from the hilltop to the lowlands on the edge of the Mississippi.
Panoramic of the Mississippi River
Of course, as wonderful as the Cities are, we've come to enjoy our small town. Below, the mountain bike/trail running course just down the road from our house:
Our fair town has its share of natural beauty -- which is apparently par for the course in Minnesota.
Near us, there is one of Minnesota's 12,000 lakes. The town has seen fit to develop both paved and unpaved running/biking trails in the vicinity, which makes for great fun outdoors.
Sunset at the local lake
Sunset at the local lake
Sunset at the local lake
Sunset at the local lake
Minnesota is also along a migratory route for various birds, which means our local waterways have been overrun with ducks and geese for the past month. At one point, I (Andrew) saw what must have been 150 or more geese all flying south(ish) for the winter. Each one was honking, which made for quite a sound.
Ducks along the local river
Fall here means lots of color. We just exited peak color season, and so most of our trees our now bare. But for two weeks, the entire town looked like this:
