Gary’s note: Everyone has a lefse story, and this is Leslie Olsen’s. This blog is the first of a thorough, three-part look at Leslie’s family, their rolling pins, their flatbrød, and their krina lefse. You are probably familiar with the simple-yet-delicious flatbrød, but you may not know about krina lefse, which is as yummy of a treat as you could desire. The lefse rolling pin Leslie describes here is unique in that it tapers at the ends. It was carried from Norway by his grandmother.

My paternal grandparents came from the Lurøy community, west of Mo I Rana, Norway, to Anacortes, Washington, between 1905 and 1910. They were married in the Anacortes Lutheran Church on December 27, 1910.

My grandmother brought a lefse rolling pin with her, made by her father who had the only treadle lathe in the area. The rolling pin measures 26-1/2 inches tip of handle to tip of handle. The rolling area is 17 inches, and it is 2-3/4 inches in diameter in the middle, tapering to 2-1/2 inches in diameter at the ends. The handles are integral fixed and are as smooth as silk, after many loving hours rolling flatbrød and lefse. It intriguing to me how the longitudinal grooves were cut.

My mother married into the Olsen family on New Year’s Eve of 1940 at the Anacortes Lutheran Church Parsonage. In the early 1950s, my mother (of Scotch-Irish and German descent) diligently measured her mother-in-law’s “dump-and-pour”recipe to create a measured recipe that produced yummy lefse and flatbrød every time. This recipe was passed on to her sons. Grandma had seven children. Of those children and their spouses, only my mother learned the traditional baking of the Norwegian Christmas goodies: krina lefse, potatokake, flatbrød, fattigmann, krumkake, and gomme. It wasn’t until I spoke with members of the Daughters of Norway in Olympia, Washington, in the 1980s that I was told krina lefse is named for the tool that makes the pattern in the topping.

My grandmother’s and parent’s homes were a stone’s throw apart. Grandma always kept the rolling pin in her dresser drawer, wrapped in a pillowcase. At Christmas in 1976, Grandma told Mom to keep the rolling pin at her house. Mom said, “No, Momma. You take it back to your house.” That was the last time the rolling pin was ever seen or used by Mom. Grandma moved into a nursing home at Easter 1977. She was 84 years old the last time she rolled flatbrød and krina lefse with that rolling pin.

The rolling pin we have now (pictured) is a duplicate of Grandma’s rolling pin, also make by her father. I found it in my grandmother’s childhood home (Aas hjem) in Norway while visiting there with my parents in 1998. My cousin, Jergen, who was living in the house, said, “Yes, you take it home. No one here will use it. I buy my lefse.”

So, like Grandma nearly 90 years earlier, I wrapped it, placed it in my suitcase, and brought it to America. Before we left Norway, I made flatbrød for my cousins in the northern part of the country and also south of Oslo. As far I know, they have been making flatbrød at Christmas ever since.

Upon inspection of the rolling pin, I found it be to be inhabited by powderpost beetles. When I got home, the rolling pin spent 24 hours in the oven at 200 degrees, hopefully killing any living critters. Have we eaten some dead beetle bodies? Well, that would be a small price to pay to have such a priceless heirloom.

Next blog: How to make krina lefse and flatbrød.

It’s party time!

As we approach the February 4^th Super Bowl with NFC and AFC Championship games this weekend, think about taking to your extravagant football parties one of the 13 lefse wraps in Keep On Rolling! Life on the Lefse Trail and Learning to Get a Round.

Just as I can guarantee a Minnesota Vikings victory, I can also guarantee your lefse wraps will be the talk of the table because:

• Everyone loves a tasty wrap. It’s fun finger food, and you don’t fill up on a lot of carbs—just the savory combinations inside.
• A lefse wrap is the tastiest of all wraps. Most other types of wraps have wrappings with no taste—zilch. But velvety, toasty, potato-y lefse adds to the texture and the ensemble of flavors. Plus, lefse is pretty with its brown spots and freckles against a golden background.

So forget all the same-old, same-old dishes you’ll find at typical football feasts. Wow revelers with this simple, can’t miss lefse-wrap:

Hamlet and a Pickle

• Danish ham-and-cheese lefse wrap
• 4 tablespoons stone-ground mustard
• 1 pound thinly sliced Danish ham
• ¾ pound thinly sliced Havarti cheese
• 8 crisp kosher dill pickle spears

Spread 4 lefse rounds with stone-ground mustard. Cover lefse with a layer of ham, and then cover with a layer of cheese. Lay two pickle spears across the diameter of each lefse. Roll up lefse and cut into pinwheels.

Enjoy, and enjoy the games. Skol Vikes!

If you want an executive summary of our annual lefse fest, here it is:

• One griddle
• Two rolling boards
• Seven people (one non-Scandinavian)
• 19 potatoes
• 40 lovely lefse
• Thanks to our Lefse Leader: Gary Legwold!!!

For those who want to savor the full report, read on.

It doesn’t really take seven adults to make a batch of lefse this lovely. One experienced lefse maker could do it. But what’s the fun in that?

On a Saturday evening each December for nearly a decade now, my mother, her three daughters, and the sons-in-law share a dinner. Then we all roll lefse while watching the Christmas classic Elf. The movie is so familiar that we can focus completely on getting perfect rounds of Potato Heaven — and we never forget to turn the lefse at the right moment. Well, except during the scene where Buddy the Elf is testing the Jack-in-the-Box toys. Cracks us up every time.

But like Papa Elf’s story about Buddy, this lefse-fest tale needs to go back a few years to its beginning.

Limited Edition Lefse

With two Norwegian grandmas, kids in my family grew up appreciating lefse as a “Limited Edition” treat. It was in short supply, and its fans were not. We watched it being made, but the skill didn’t transfer to us that easily. As adults, we resorted to — brace yourself — grocery-store lefse for our fix. I know. It wasn’t the same, but we adapted in order to survive.

In 1998, brother-in-law Dennis obtained a “fool-proof” lefse recipe from a coworker and bought equipment and supplies. We dusted off a couple of lefse-turning sticks, which had served as kitchen-wall décor, and everyone brought lefse stuff to our family Christmas vacation, where we could devote time to lefse making.

With great enthusiasm and 10 pounds of potatoes, we made the most durable-looking stack of pancake-thick potato slabs you ever saw. It qualified as “potato jerky,” as author Gary Legwold once labeled his own first lefse.

So it was back to the drawing board … and the grocery store.

Lefse Class

Our family’s lefse luck changed a decade ago when Gary became my office coworker. His reputation as a lefse legend preceded him, and when I learned about his sideline of teaching the art of mixing dough and rolling dinner-plate-size lefse rounds, I recruited him to coach our family.

Six of us, including Dennis, attended Gary’s evening class. Dennis had recovered from the Potato Fail of ’98 and was ready to tackle the taters again. That year for Christmas, Dennis asked Santa for a real lefse griddle and a ribbed rolling pin.

We learned to make real lefse, and ever since that class Dennis has spearheaded our annual lefse fest. I have to say that each year our lefse is more round and delicate and melt-in-your-mouth perfect than the year before. Our grandmas would be so proud, and I think Gary might even feel a bit like a pleased Papa Elf himself.

Connie Bastyr is a former editor of Handy Magazine and a lefse aficionado from Minnetonka, Minnesota.

One of the joys of the marketplace is listening to customers. It’s gratifying to hear praise for my books, and it’s a joy to keep learning from other aficionados about the art of making lefse.

Example: When I was selling my books at the Linden Hills Holiday Market in Minneapolis in November, I had the pleasure of meeting Rev. Charles Colberg of Minneapolis, who gave me two tips that have pleased my feet and especially the consumers of my lefse.

First, Rev. Colberg turned me on to Darn Tough socks, which are unconditionally guaranteed for life. Can’t kick about that guarantee, so I asked for and received a pair for Christmas. I love the fit, feel, and warmth.

The second tip from Rev. Colberg has lifted my lefse to the next level — and I already made very good lefse. The tip: Switch to King Arthur Flour.

This tip was so simple that I pooh-poohed it initially. After all, flour is flour, right? Well, no, as I discovered. There are reasons why King Arthur Flour is twice as expensive as the flour I have been buying. It is never bleached and has a protein content (gluten) that is carefully calibrated so that you have the same results every time you bake.

I was not put off by the price. I will pay what is asked if it makes my lefse better. And it did. When I rolled lefse for customers in the week before Christmas and for the Christmas Eve family gathering, my dough was velvety but tender. And my rounds were round with edges that were reliably smooth and not ragged. Same recipe I’ve always used but different flour.

So that is my tip: Switch to King Arthur Flour. It is arguably the second best tip I can offer lefse makers striving to improve. My best tip? It’s not mine but a tip from Bonnie Jacobs, who owns Jacobs Lefse Bakeri in Osakis, Minnesota. “Here’s my best advice on trying to make perfectly round lefse,” Bonnie told me in Keep On Rolling. “Do it more than once a year.”

If you lived in southeastern Minnesota or southwestern Wisconsin in the late 1950s and 1960s, you may have purchased “Skarstad’s Delicious Lefse” from local grocery stores. My Grandma, Thora Skarstad, had a lefse bakery in her home in Holmen, Wisconsin. She was quite the business woman during a time when women-owned businesses were uncommon. Neighbor ladies (we called them “lefse ladies”) were hired during the fall and winter busy times, since everyone wanted lefse for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Lefse season was in full swing!

As the demand for Grandma’s lefse increased, Grandpa, James Clarence Skarstad, remodeled their home to accommodate the lefse business, and he marketed the lefse to grocery stores. Grandma’s recipe is somewhat unique; it’s dairy-free, unlike most recipes with cream and butter in the dough. In the days before preservatives, dairy-free lefse most likely kept longer in the stores. She experimented with numerous varieties of potatoes before settling on russet potatoes for her lefse.

The lefse-making process for Grandma and the lefse ladies began with potato peeling. An electric peeler was rigged up for commercial use to grate the peelings off the potatoes using a disc of heavy sandpaper. During the busy season, the lefse ladies peeled an estimated 1,000 pounds of potatoes per week! Then potatoes were boiled, mashed (with a commercial masher), and cooled overnight before flour and other ingredients were added. Then came the best part: shaping the dough into balls followed by rolling and grilling — and tasting!

Grandma had coffee breaks often, to “test” the lefse and to share the goings-on of the day.

We lived out of town, but we’d visit Grandma and Grandpa for Christmas when the lefse bakery was in full swing. I have fond memories of the lefse ladies and the lefse bakery. Even though my sisters and I were young, the smell of lefse and boiling potatoes still lingers, especially during “lefse season!”

Becky Latka lives in Omaha, Nebraska, and owns The Lefse Shoppe, an online store that carries her book about Grandma Skarstad lefse bakery. Contact her at BeckyL513@gmail.com.

After years of writing about lefse and teaching lefse classes and, upon occasion, selling lefse to friends for special events, I have decided to hang my shingle and sell Keep On Rolling Lefse!

I hang my shingle knowing my limits. Keep On Rolling Lefse will not be big enough — it’s just my daughter, Kate McIntosh, and me — to compete with the six commercial lefse makers I chronicle in Keep On Rolling! The big factories ship just about anywhere and make enough to supply grocery chains and church dinners. We cannot. We’re for the local Twin Cities individual market; we can ship if you are willing to pay the two-day shipping cost.

But our advantage is Keep On Rolling Lefse is fresh and made to order. Just tell us how many rounds you want and the pick-up date, and the lefse will be rolled and grilled on the pick-up date or the day before. Lefse is so much better when it is fresh! If your order is so large that it requires filling with some frozen lefse, your cost is lowered. That’s a fair deal. And we can do lefse-wrap lefse rolled at a thickness that’s perfect for the juicy ingredients of lefse wraps.

So give Keep On Rolling Lefse a try. Tis the season!

In the bridge of the lefse song “Keep On Rollin’”, which I co-wrote with Erik Sherburne, the lyrics are:

A lefse maker I once knew/She said “Here is what you do/

When in a storm/Just let your faith take form/

Keep on a rollin’/The sun will shine anew/

So stand tall, be true/Stay strong, be you!”

I came upon this story called “Lefse Apron.”

It’s an excerpt from “New Land, New Life,” produced by the St. Paul Sons of Norway Lodge, Synnøve Nordkap. Members shared stories about their Norwegian ancestry. Erna McGuire embodies the faith, gratitude, strength, and resilience that are often fundamental to our elder lefse makers.

As you make your lefse for Thanksgiving, listen to this podcast. Oh, it’s OK if tears fall upon your lefse.

 

I have an intriguing chapter in Keep On Rolling! that I call “The Lefse Revolution!” That chapter celebrates five very good lefse makers who have bucked tradition. I celebrate them because, too often, lefse makers get locked into THE WAY, rigidly rejecting all other recipes and ways to make lefse.

Well, in writing two lefse books, I have interviewed more lefse makers than any writer, and I will say there are many ways to make lefse—and one is not superior. But too often we grow up intimidated or put off by the rigidity of THE WAY promoted by an elder, fearing being scolding by not following THE WAY.

In my lefse classes, which start Monday and continue for two weeks, I preach openness and experimentation. I give you my way—which is traditional and has worked for me for years but is different from THE WAY—and I pass on methods and recipes I have picked up over the years that intrigue me. Three examples:

1. We will try rolling lefse made with instant potatoes. Whoa!
2. We will try rolling lefse dough that is warm and has not cooled overnight, which is the traditional way.
3. We will try rolling lefse dough made with olive oil, not butter or cream.

So I give you a mix of tradition and revolution. What do you expect from a Gemini?

Two of my classes, November 8 and 9, are full, but please join the “traditional revolution” fun in my other lefse classes.

Wanna know how to scare the krumkake out of most true-blue, traditional lefse makers on Halloween? Tell them they have to make lefse using instant potatoes!

This has been a forbidden ingredient in lefse because, say traditionalists, instant potatoes are not real (although the box says the contents are 98 percent potatoes), and using instant potatoes is perceived to be cheating.

Part of lure of lefse is in the anticipation that is increased with the time required to boil potatoes, mash them, rice them, make the dough, and then cool the dough overnight. This potato-prep time is a nostalgic labor of love that connects us to those who made lefse before us, to grandmas and aunts in the “good old days.” But with potatoes that are instant (can’t you just see the sneer as traditionalist sputter that word), the anticipation is diminished, and the connection to grandma is hurried by an unquestioned and unwelcomed need for speed.

On the other hand, there are times when you don’t want—or physically cannot pull off—the big production; you just want a little lefse. Why not use instant potatoes and get right down to some fun rolling?

When I wrote The Last Word on Lefse 25 years ago, I was one who sneered at instant potatoes. But with age and with the writing of Keep On Rolling! this year, I no longer sneer. Over the years, I have interviewed too many lefse makers who make excellent lefse using instant potatoes.

So for the first time I am going to explore using instant potatoes as an experiment in my lefse-making classes, which begin next week. We’ll make dough with “real” potatoes and dough with instant potatoes, and we’ll see how the lefse rolling and baking go, and how the lefse tastes. I’ll let you know.

This morning I look out my window, and a howling north wind is shoving treetops severely south, and slushy snow is slanting sideways. Ah, lefse season has begun!

Lefse is the ultimate comfort food, and pausing to eat it with a cuppa tea underscores the fact that you are nice and cozy and warm when the world outside is not. I maintain that making lefse has the effect of an anti-depressant. Rather than being subject to the dim, bleak, gray conditions that characterize foul weather, lefse makers defiantly thumb their nose and merrily roll a few rounds.

So, I welcome the first snowfall just as I welcome my annual appearance at Ingebretsen’s. Last week, I spoke there about lefse and lutefisk, signed books, and talked shop with Julie Ingebretsen, pictured.

I remember the first year I signed books at Ingebretsen’s in 1992. The Last Word on Lefse  was brand new, and the outside temperature on the day of my signing was frigid. And yet, as I approached to the store in my car, I could see a line of rather cheery pre-Thanksgiving shoppers coming out the door.

I quickly set up my table, which Julie had positioned right inside the store door so that shoppers could not miss me as they entered. Let’s sign some books!

And yet, bundled-up shoppers would invariably enter the store and move right past my table to the market section. Their primary mission in coming to this grand, old establishment was to purchase lefse, lutefisk, cheese, polse, smoked ham, meatballs, herring, blood sausage “klub,” and liver pate.

I waited, crestfallen, thinking something was wrong with my book or me.

Nothing was wrong. After shoppers had succeeded with their primary mission and allowed their bones to thaw in the warmth of the store, they relaxed and roamed—and eventually found my table full of lefse books. They’d smile, pick up that beautiful blue book, and say, “You wrote a whole book on lefse, then?”

In the end, sales were brisk, and it was a very good day. Bad weather, but a good lefse memory.