Eating Like a Viking in Minneapolis

Travel Blog  •  David Farley  •  12.29.08 | 6:45 PM ET

Photo by kalleboo via Flickr, (Creative Commons)

The first indication I knew I was in trouble was when the waitress told me I was the youngest person to order the dish since they put it on the menu a month ago. And I’m 37. The second—and the worst part—occurred when the dish actually arrived. Staring at me from a plus-sized plate was a variation on the theme of pale: diced boiled potatoes, golf ball-sized pearl onions, lefse (a flatbread not unlike lavash or tortilla), a thimble of butter, and, the plate’s tour de force, a three-inch quivering gelatinous beast. Otherwise known as lutefisk.

Welcome to Minneapolis, home of Ancel Keys (the man who gave post-World-War-II Europe K Rations and, later, the Mediterranean Diet), Prince, a burgeoning East African population, and, of course, the patron saint of adventurous eating, Andrew Zimmern. It’s also home to lutefisk (pronounced loot-a-fisk), a “fish,” for lack of a better term, that was brought over by Scandinavians. Lutefisk actually starts out as a typical Scandinavian white fish (cod or haddock, for example), but thanks to a rigorous drying technique (it’s rehydrated with lye, commonly found in drain cleaners, by the way), it becomes something else. And that “something” is actually consumed more in the state of Minnesota than in Scandinavia today. I’d visited Minneapolis more than a dozen times, but I always opted for the city’s better, more ethnically diverse restaurant fare. This time, however, smack in the middle of lutefisk season (October-March), I thought it was time.

Lutefisk lovers say the putrid-smelling fish squirms down your throat so quickly, you can’t really taste it (that’s a positive attribute, I guess). Throughout the season, lutefisk is served regularly at church suppers where (usually) geriatrics of Scandinavian descent go to slurp down their heritage. I opted for the “safer” option: the recently created “haute” version at the white-table-clothed Landmarc Grill. I had no idea what was so “haute” about the offering, except that it was tall. The waitress didn’t ask to see my AARP card, so I picked up my fork and let it glide through the nearly transparent clump of fish.

I’d love to write here that lutefisk wasn’t so bad after all, that it’s received a bad rap, probably due to a younger generation of Viking descendants eschewing what their grandparents ate. I won’t. I can’t. But I will say this: it wasn’t so bad that I had to plug my nose while chewing. It was like having a forkful of phlegm in my mouth that quickly disintegrated when it hit the palate, the taste of nothingness—eventually eclipsed by a non-intrusive, but unforgiving fishy aftertaste. Its only offense was the $18 bill afterward.

A few of the older staff—wearing open smirks—stopped by to ask how I liked the lutefisk. “It was…good,” I said, trying to play the diplomat.

When I left, however, I was still hungry. So, having tasted my slice of Scandinavian Minnesota, I opted for something a little more typical of Minneapolis: one of the city’s many Ethiopian restaurants.

Tags: Food, North America, United States, Minnesota, Minneapolis-St. Paul, News and Briefs


7 Comments for Eating Like a Viking in Minneapolis

Lola Akinmade 12.29.08 | 8:52 PM ET

If you think Lutefisk is bad, you need to try its badass cousin, surströmming.

Doug Mack 12.29.08 | 9:01 PM ET

I’m a native of Minneapolis, and I only know one person who’s eaten lutefisk (I have not) ... and that was on a dare. 

For much better eating here, head to Eat Street (Nicollet Avenue), where you’ll find a wide range of cheap, delicious options, including Somali, Vietnamese, German, Malaysian, Mexican, Greek, and Indian restaurants—but no lutefisk!  It’s a goal of mine to eat at every restaurant on Eat Street.

Norma 12.31.08 | 1:06 AM ET

Surströmming is a “delicacy” for northern Swedes, or so I’ve been told. However, please do not as my husband did take a dare and try it.  The smell makes it illegal to eat in Swedish city appartments! 

Now Lutefisk is a different story.  I am Swedish, and lutefisk was not part of my family’s
Christmas tradition, but I have eaten it, and when served correctly, it is not bad just rather without tast.  You must have potatoes, on which the lutefisk is placed and then covered by a good white sauce.  Some Aquavit and beer create the right flavor!  God Jul!

Darrin DuFord 12.31.08 | 1:14 PM ET

Oral lore has made lutefisk into a putrid monster.  Thanks for busting the myth.

Carrie 01.08.09 | 2:48 PM ET

Where did you go to eat the lutefisk? I live in the Twin Cities, although I’m a transplant, so perhaps that kind of explains why I wouldn’t know the first place to go if I wanted to try it. I’m glad you washed it down with more palatable fare.

David Farley 01.08.09 | 3:06 PM ET

Carrie: I indulged in the lutefisk at Landmarc Grill (http://www.landmarcgrill.com/) which is on S. 4th Ave. and S. 8th St. in the Normandy Hotel. You can also try more traditional versions at Pearson’s in Edina and at the classically fancy Jax. Make sure you knock back some acquavit with it—it helps wash out the fishy aftertaste. I’m now considering starting a Scandinavian-style death metal band called Lutefisk (written, of course, in a heavy metal font).

Michael Yessis 01.09.09 | 9:18 AM ET

I want to hear that band way more than I ever want to eat lutefisk. No way I could handle the “unforgiving fishy aftertaste.”

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