Lefse and a Way to World Peace

You see that red thing over there? That is a potato.

That flat thing? That is a potato, too: boiled, riced, with a little added butter, cream, salt, sugar, and flour. It is rolled flat, and lightly browned on a big, round hot plate.

Lefse. It is what Scandinavians ate when they wanted to jazz up their favorite fruit: a potato. Schmear on a little butter, maybe a little sugar, roll it up, and pretend it is a tortilla.

When we first moved into this house in Tucson, some of our neighbors stopped by, asked where we were from, whether we knew what we were doing, moving here in the middle of summer, what our names were, and generally being good and gracious people.

However, they secretly noted that we did not have a lefse pan, or those paint sticks that are needed to turn the lefse, so when they organized their annual lefse making party, they invited us to bring some red potatoes and learn a thing or two.

This was the day. About eight of us boiled, riced, and generally humiliated humble potatoes into what might be thought of as holiday delicacies. We drank coffee, laughed, lied, drank more coffee, lunched, exchanged recipes, explored common customs and adventures, and broadened the definition of what it is for Tucson to be a multi-cultural society, even while failing to convince even ourselves that a potato is a the ideal starting place upon which to build world peace.

It is, without doubt, a fine place to build community spirit.

"Oh, no!", our hostess said. "Take the extra potatoes home with you! We never eat potatoes!"

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