by Laura on March 2, 2012

It’s thirteen degrees here this morning.  The young pines are bending under the weight of heavy, wet snow, threatening to break, and the tall shrubs are splayed out like snow-covered wreaths strewn along the pathway I’ve shoveled to the house.  Annie, our little terrier, thinks the snow is a platform across the patio out back; it creaks underfoot until it gives way and she has to tentatively leap her way back to me, falling through the snow.  I had my own challenges this morning.  My Honey Girl can pull on a cold, wet bathing suit without cringing—not me.  But somehow I don’t mind stepping barefoot every morning and evening into the pair of leather clogs I keep by the back door for chicken care.  They’re often wet from rain or full of snow.  But this morning they were soaked and beginning to freeze.  I teetered out in my nightgown and old bathrobe, trying to get settled into them, thinking about socks and whether or not they were worth the trouble.  And then, in slow motion, a pitcher full of fresh water in one hand, metal water fount in the other, I stepped onto ice in front of the hen house.  Into the air went both legs, both arms, the metal fount, the pitcher, and into the air high above me, the water.  Down onto the ice came my back and, onto the snow, my head.  The metal fount and the water pitcher followed with a thud, and, like a punch line, the water, which soaked me.  At six o’clock on a cold morning, that is a jolt to the bones.  I lay there surprised for a moment, and then laughing, as the hens rushed back and forth like a school of fish and Annie harrumphed through the snow to help.  I love winter, but mornings like this, I think about California now and then, people eating al fresco with the golden sun beating down on their faces.  It seems so civilized and so easy.  After a hot bath to warm up and some clean, dry clothes, I joined my Sweet Boy in the kitchen and found him making lefse.  California?  Watching your 17-year old son making Norwegian lefse on a cold day and eating it together, the last tender pieces fresh from the griddle smeared with good butter and sprinkled with a little sugar, isn’t part of that picture.  I’ll stay right here.


{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }

1 Susan Brinson March 2, 2012 at 8:28 pm

I love this post. It makes me wonder what food I have been missing out on if I didn’t live in NYC and I stayed in Wisconsin. My family has Norwegian and German heritage. Eh, I will keep checking back on your blog to see the lovely food! I never knew what that style of rolling pin is for, even though I have one. ; )

2 Lizzi March 2, 2012 at 8:49 pm

My goodness. Why have these never graced my stomach lining before? They look just PERFECT! (especially, as you mentioned, in gloomy weather. Even here, summer has given way to cold, damp, winds, and widespread flooding. It’s miserable, but I suspect anything potato-based would cheer me up enormously)

3 Laura March 3, 2012 at 8:29 am

Thank you so much, Susan. Isn’t that funny. I’ve had a few moments like that myself with my grandparents’ cooking tools.

4 Laura March 3, 2012 at 8:35 am

Lizzi, You will love them. Imagine gnocchi rolled paper thin, browned, buttered, and sugared. They’re a bit labor intensive, but homemade lefse (versus the store-bought stuff we get here) is amazing.

5 Barbie Van Horn March 4, 2012 at 8:16 pm

I spent many years in Poulsbo WA, also known as “Little Norway”. Lefse could be purchased at just about any grocery there but fresh lefse looks much better!

6 kris jacobson March 5, 2012 at 1:03 pm

What a cool post, Laura.
I love it.
But I’m sick about your fall!

7 Laura March 5, 2012 at 3:55 pm

Thank you, Kris. xo

8 Laura March 5, 2012 at 3:56 pm

Barbie, How wonderful! We can buy it in grocery stores here around Christmastime, but it doesn’t compare to the tenderness of homemade.

9 Mrs Ergül March 7, 2012 at 2:58 am

That looks so yummy! Almost like a mega piece of potato chip!

10 Laura March 7, 2012 at 10:54 am

Lim Pei Lin, They do like like giant potato chips in that photo! They’re quite supple, though, almost like a giant, pressed gnocci.

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