Rather, it is a mindset that involves toiling over a broiling hot round griddle with a pine wand flattened at one end used to weave a Nordic magic redolent of burnt flour and soggy pine cones. The end result is often considered inedible by the Southern nations of the world -- places like Italy, Brazil, and Australia consider lefse a hiss and byword. It is outlawed in Tasmania; anyone caught trying to smuggle it into the country is pilloried without scruple.
The Way of the Lefse began as the only way to destroy the mid-winter potato threat in Norwegian households. Being a prudent, not to say hoarding, bunch, Norwegians begin collecting burlap sacks of raw potatoes in late autumn, and continue through the Yuletide season. By then their rustic cottages are so jammed with spuds that there is no space left to sleep. So the wily Norsk starts boiling up the potatoes in huge kettles, then mashes them with flour and butter, rolls them out, and cooks them up on a griddle. The result makes a tasty mid-winter snack, or can be used to patch the roof after a nasty syklon.
During the process of lefse-making, it is traditional -- nay, expected -- that other foodstuffs and potent beverages will be brought out to nosh on. Pickled herring; goat cheese; flagons of aquavit -- a generous smorgasbord is spread before the lefse makers to keep up their stamina and strength. The whole process will continue late into the night -- or until the alkohol runs out.
The next day the entire household is usually paralyzed with calorie poisoning and stays in bed until the rats start gnawing on the yule log. At least, a few of the poisoned will imagine they see rats gnawing on the yule log . . .
The Way of the Lefse is only for the hardy Northern soul. All others should go read the Pickwick Papers or some other sentimental Holiday pap and drown their seasonal sorrows in treacly eggnog.
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