Scandinavian Delicacies

In 2020, the Joy of Christmas is under pressure. It's unlikely we will experience the normal large family gatherings, the fabulous church services and music .. many of the traditions that make the season so special. People are hurting both mentally, physically and economically. Many have died or are in hospital.

My wife loves Christmas.  She's a giver, at times over the top but it gives her joy.  She loves the specialness of the season, the family love and closeness, the Christmas music (which starts about Halloween around here), the church services, the decorations that trigger a childhood nostalgia and the foods that make the mouth water with anticipation of that Christmas Eve dinner table. She loves to bake so the bounty overflows, much to the delight of friends and family. Trilbies, krumkake, flatbread, pies, fudge, brownies, almond bread, cookies ... and of course, *lefse.

Lefse is the one tradition that cannot be skipped in this household.  Lefse lights the Christmas spirit.

Here's a tutorial.

1. Block out 2 days on your calendar and a 3rd for cleanup.

2. Pick out good potatoes.  If you fail this step, you are doomed.  Russets are best. Others absorb too much water during the boil (see below). 10-20 lbs.

3. Buy a lefse grill.  The one we have is from Hoplin & Nelson circa 1970  $18.95. You'll have to outlay a bit more today.  And a lefse stick.

4. Peel and boil.

5. Rice. If you're up to it, twice. Find a volunteer with strong hands.

6. Mix riced potatoes with the flour, butter & cream.

7. Roll into balls. Refrigerate overnight

8. For each ball, roll and roll and roll on a lightly floured pastry cloth.

9. When it is rolled to exactly the right thickness, use the special lefse stick to flip it on the grill. (Remember to plug it in.)  Brush off excess flour. New unused paint brush works well - watch for loose bristles. Don't worry about the shape. It's not a beauty contest and it doesn't affect the taste.

10. At precisely the right time, flip and repeat for side two. Then add to the finished lefse to the stack forming on a clean towel.

10. When cooled, fold and package. Two to a package, three if you're feeling generous.

11.  Consume. Butter & white sugar (brown if you were not brought up right) and roll into a tube. Some people go sugarless - can't understand that.

12.  Give some away.  It's really not Scandinavian nice to hoard all your lefse. 

This is a mediocre specimen.  I am only allowed to eat the less than perfect. But the misshapen taste just as good as the "good enough for company" pieces. 

Best wishes to you'all this holiday season.  Stay well.

Copyright © 2020 Dave Hoplin

* Lefse is a traditional soft Norwegian flatbread. It is made with potatoes, flour, butter, and milk or cream. It is cooked on a large, flat griddle. Special tools are used to prepare lefse, including long wooden turning sticks and special rolling pins with deep grooves.
 

Spectator

Royal fever returns. Season 4 of "The Crown" released on Netflix November 15th. The saga of the House of Windsor. Philip, Elizabeth, Charles, Margaret, Anne and Diana - but the character that most intrigued me in season 3 was Princess Alice.

Princess Alice of Battenberg was the mother of Prince Philip, mother-in-law of QE2.  She is quite a story.  She was diagnosed as congenitally deaf as a young child and learned to communicate by lip reading in multiple languages, becoming fluent in German.  She married Prince Andrew of Greece in 1903 at the age of 18.  They had 5 children, Philip the youngest, the only son.  During the Greek-Turkish war, 1919-1922 the family fled Greece, becoming royal refugees. Philip was sent to boarding school in England. Alice converted to Greek Orthodox and became deeply religious. In the late 1920's, she was diagnosed with schizophrenia and institutionalized, garnering interest from Sigmund Freud.  In the mid-30's, she left treatment and returned to Greece, volunteering with the Red Cross and soup kitchens and a life of poverty.  During the occupation of Greece by the Nazis, she hid a Jewish family friend and her daughter in her apartment.  When questioned by the Gestapo, she pretended she could not hear or understand. While Philip served in the British Navy during WWII, his four sisters were married to German men who fought for the Nazis. None of these sisters were invited to Philip & Elizabeth's wedding in 1947.

In 1949, Alice, taking the name Sister Alice-Elizabeth founded the Christian Sisterhood of Martha and Mary, an order of nuns caring for the sick in Greece.  In 1967, after a military coup in Greece, she moved to Buckingham Palace. She formed a special bond with her granddaughter Princess Anne.  She died in 1969 at the age of 84. She was interred in Jerusalem. 

She makes a fairly brief appearance in The Crown, but she makes a statement that caught me on the chin:

    "When I hit 70, I realized that I had become a spectator, no longer a participant."  

Ouch. 

A spectator!  In this age of vile name-calling, this one might be the most wounding. To be complacent and fiddle while the world crumbles certainly begs self examination.  

But what to do?  I fall back on my mother's words: "Bloom where you're planted." Regardless of your age, do what you can, as long as you can, where you are, to better the conditions for others.  You don't need to change the world, rather work on "your" world. That is sufficient.  Share a pie or hotdish with neighbors, volunteer, give money if you can, speak out against injustice, be kind.  Imagine if this were a universal ethic.

One of my favorite poems and inspiration is Lord Tennyson's Ulysses with this to the point section:

...

   Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;

    Death closes all: but something ere the end,

    Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

    Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

    The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:

    The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep

    Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,

    T'is not too late to seek a newer world.

...

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

T'is not too late. T'is never too late.

Copyright © 2020 Dave Hoplin

Losing the Middle

You might be expecting an inspiring weight loss story, but no, in the time of pandemic that is but a pipe dream.  Rather this is another nostalgia piece, this time over shrinking middle class America.

Growing up in the small town of Lowry in the 50’s, I didn’t know any poor people. Oh, there were a few families that lived across the tracks that were “needy”, but poor - not in our town. 

Most people lived in single family homes but some families lived in apartments: Molander Apartments, Lowry Flats or other rental properties. Several Main Street businesses had apartments above the business level: McIver’s Store, Chan’s Tavern, Lowry Telephone and the Dahl House.

My first six years were in an apartment above the Dahl House. From the alley in the back, it could have been mistaken for a big city tenement.  But in my memory it was great. The stairs led straight to Hank Bosek's roof and in the winter the snow banked high allowing for "jumping off the roof". 

My mom worked as a nurse for Doc McIver my dad worked as an electrician for Hoplin & Nelson.  Most apartment dwellers were retired, single parents or families trying to save enough for a down payment on an $5000 home. Lowry State Bank was notoriously conservative in its lending practice having survived the depression without being forced into closure. My father was turned down by LSB as a poor risk- and 2 other banks as well - even though the the Hoplin family had operated a business in Lowry since 1916. Luckily, WWII vets had the option of appealing to the Veterans Administration for a loan, so in 1953 my father obtained a 3% loan for $8500  ($38/mo) to build a home on Drury Ave. 

So, in 1953 our family moved from Dahl House apartment, straddling the poverty line to 249 Drury Lane, lower middle class. Mom was no longer "working", rather managing a home, cooking 3 meals a day & 2 little kids. Also money management & paying the bills, unusual for the day.  My father worked 6 days a week from 7 AM to 6 PM, plus summer Saturday nights at the hardware store when the county came to town (see: Saturday Night). Sunday morning church & Sunday School. Summer Sunday afternoons at the Lowry Leghorns ballgame. And Sunday nights were generally devoted to working on next week work plan and bids for future electrical or plumbing work. (Not to mention, emergency calls at all hours - doctors had nothing on Glenn Hoplin).  Not exactly the Life of Riley.

From my POV, we were comfortable. There was always good food on the table - mom was a great cook - but the boiled ring baloney once a week was not my cup of tea - to mix a metaphor. I had my very own room. I'd get a new pair of Buster Brown's and a winter jacket from Bob's Clothes Shop in Alex every fall. And a pair of Red Ball Jets from McIver's Store for the summer and skates from Hoplin & Nelson for the winter.  Eating out was Sunday dinner at Esthers and a trip to the Starbuck DQ a couple times a month in the summer. That was about the extent of the luxuries. There was usually vanilla ice cream in the freezer tho. 

There were a couple Lowry swells who purchased a new car every 2 or 3 years but most people drove theirs to the ground. Our family did not own a car until 1960 and that was a hand-me-down '57 Buick from Uncle Dave. We made due with the work truck, packing the 4 of us into the seatbeltless cab. On the rare vacation or trip to Iowa or Minneapolis to see the sisters, Uncle Dave graciously made loan of his Buick. 

We did have a black & white TV pretty early, coupled with a tower antenna on the south side of the house. The nearest stations were 150 miles away in the Twin Cities so reception was sketchy at best.  I spent considerable time fiddling with the rotor to try to position the antenna so I could make out Roy Rogers in the snow. In the late 50's, Alexandria brought KCMT & Huntley-Brinkley to the area, assuring 1 clear channel.

This is a pretty typical story of small town USA in the 50's and I think a fair description of middle class life in rural America.  Hard working, optimistic families striving to secure home ownership and improved quality of life. 

This picture of course is no longer familiar.  The middle class doubled in numbers in the 50's but since the 80's has been dropping precipitously. A middle class existence now requires two wage earners with families one serious illness away from bankruptcy. (Covid of course changes this equation even more radically) Small towns are on the wane, losing their young people, their schools, churches and businesses. (Covid is accelerating this)

The wage and wealth gap is ripping a hole in the middle. The country is dividing between the very wealthy and the working poor. As the old saw goes .. "thems whats gots keeps."  

And a few data points.

The pay gap between CEO's and their workers is now roughly 270x, CEO's averaging ~$15 million/yr. Average USA wage is ~$52K but this is misleading because the very high earners jack the average up.  The median wage is $34K, which means 1/2 earn less than that. 34M people live below the poverty line. The top 1% reap 20% of the income and own 80% of the wealth.

Source: Census.gov 

Source: EPI.org

The minimum wage in 2020 is $7.25/hr.  For full-time (40 hrs/wk) employment, this yields $14,500/yr before deductions.

Think about it.

Copyright © 2020 Dave Hoplin