Let’s Get Nordic

“Pastors have to wear a lot of different hats.”

People say that sometimes. (Not just about pastors, of course.)

Well, today, this pastor is wearing an actual hat. And it is a little different:

Today is the 46th Annual Nordic Bazaar at First Lutheran. That means that all those pies and all that lefse will be sold (pretty quickly–so if you’re in the area, hurry over now!).

It means that lady pastors will join many other women in wearing little red hats, and man pastors will join some other men in wearing red cumberbunds and bow ties.  

Minnesota Nice: Butterfield Threshing Bee

Waiting for the train. Look at that lean of anticipation!

I was mostly in it for the train ride.

Sure, I love tractors and steam engines as much as the next person (Pro Trip: Depending, of course, on how much the next person loves them), but it was the promise of a train ride in the park that convinced me to load the kids in the car and head over to Butterfield for the 50th annual Butterfield threshing bee.

Well, the train ride exceeded my expectations. For seventy-five cents each, we got to hang out in the depot, tell the ticket taker our imaginary destination (Zoe chose Unicornia), ride through a tunnel, and take in the sights and sounds of the bee. I bought enough tickets for two rides and we loved each one.

But there was so much more:

Say it with Lefse

The bulletin announcement says 8 AM, but some of them arrive at 6.

They measure and mix. They stir and roll. They flip and fold and weigh and pack and freeze. They are careful and patient and precise, but there is artistry and beauty to their work, too. Many of them remember their parents and grandparents practicing this art on a cook stove, not an electric griddle.

Every Tuesday and Wednesday for three weeks, they are here. When all is said and done, they have made about 300 pounds of lefse for the Nordic Bazaar. (Plus an untold number of pounds of “mistakes” that we are forced to enjoy with our coffee in the middle of each work day.)

Just a Little Lefse*

Not long after I was assigned to the Southwestern Minnesota Synod, I had a realization that chilled me to the bone.

If we stayed in Minnesota for more than few years, my as yet unborn child would learn to play not “Duck, Duck, Goose” but “Duck, Duck, Gray Duck.”  (Pro Tip: all you Minnesotans are playing this game wrong.)

Luckily, Minnesota has other cultural delights.  Yesterday, Zoe got to experience a great one:

Lefse-making with some of the ladies at Beckville.  Zoe and I were not much help–I bagged the completed lefse while she ate candy corn, rearranged paper cups and toothpicks, and caused one piece of uncooked lefse to hit the floor.  You’re welcome, lefse makers!

This kind of cooking requires way more precision than either of us can handle.  I was mostly in it for the fellowship.  And the chance to taste some broken pieces hot off the griddle.  I can now confirm that this lefse is delicious, and everyone should come buy it at Beckville’s Fancy Cookie Sale on December 3rd.

See?  I helped.

*The post title was inspired by my dim memory of this song, which is actually anti-lefse (and pretty silly, as any song about lefse is bound to be).