Lutefisk
Scott Mclean
Didn’t sleep much last night and just got back from the Y so here’s another couple of Grandpa Sorenson stories.
We made a trip up there when I was 14 and Steve 11. Grandpa corralled me to go to a lutefisk dinner at the local sons of Norway hall. Everyone else was smart enough to make an escape. Steve went with Dad to Port Angeles to buy some gear at Swain’s for a fishing trip the next day. Mom and Sherri went with Dorothea to bingo at the grange hall.
I don’t know if you’re familiar with lutefisk but they dry cod and lye is in the ingredients. They later reconstitute it into this slimy smelly mess. I love seafood but can’t get that past my nose.
Anyway, I smelled the stuff as soon as we got out of the truck. I was skeptical about going in but Grandpa insisted. As we got to the front steps, an older couple came out the door. The smell hit me like a slap in the face! I told Grandpa I wasn’t going in and he said I would like it once I tried it. I said “Grandpa it smells like bad #*$@$!”
I’ll let you fill in the blanks but at the age of 14 I didn’t know what good, bad, or indifferent #*$@$ smelled like. I had used a curse word in front of the old couple which was a bad offense in my family. This was the only time I remember Grandpa striking me. He slapped on the back of the head so hard I expected it to land on top of the steps. I heard the man of the old couple quietly chuckling as they went down the steps. I don’t know if this was amusement at my crude remark or of the little bit of Scandinavian corporal punishment I received. Grandpa was embarrassed and we went home.
It was worth the smack on the head to escape that smell! Grandpa gave me an upset glare for about an hour but then went back to his more jovial self. Dad went out to look at something on Grandpa’s truck and they didn’t know I was behind the garage. He told my Dad what I said and they both bust out laughing. Grandpa told him about smacking me and Dad said there was nothing in my head to hurt. Grandpa even admitted to Dad that I had a point about the smell. Neither ever told Mom as far as I know.
I still have not and will not eat the stuff.
We made another visit when I was 18 and Steve 15. I had driven the whole trip fighting a wind storm. When we got on the ferry at Edmonds I stayed in the car to unwind while the rest of the family went to the upper deck. Waves were splashing into the ports on the side and the ferry had a hard time docking. They shut the ferries down after we drove off. When we got to the Hood Canal Bridge, waves were breaking over the top. When we got to Grandpa’s he said it had just come over the news that the bridge had been closed and several sections sank. We were evidently one of the last cars to cross it. I was white knuckled from the drive and tense.
Grandpa had started making homemade wine and even Mom said his raspberry was good. Dad said “Orv, pour the kid a glass please. He drove that whole trip and deserves to wind down.” Dad brought me the glass and I drank it even though I did not like wine at the time. Grandpa seemed to think that was the okay for me to sample his vintages. Steve at 15 was not old enough. Grandpa would hand me a glass and I would pretend to sip. As soon as he went back in the kitchen I would hand it to Steve and he would gulp it down.
When Grandpa would see the empty glass he would bring me another variety. It looked to him like it was not effecting me much so he kept them coming. The end result was little brother drinking about 5 glasses of wine.
I think Mom might have been a little suspicious because Steve seemed a little happier than normal. I think the headache he had the next morning made her wonder a little more.
Trips to visit Grandpa were always a lot of fun!