It’s hard to sell what’s supposed to be a celebratory meal: a pile of translucent jelly with a questionable aroma.
But as I prepared to celebrate Christmas in my native Norway for the first time in at least 20 years, I found myself once again faced with the food that haunted December 24th of my childhood: lutefisk.
Pronounced rota-fisk, a traditional Norwegian festive dish made from dried white fish, it has a smell that suggests the fish has experienced some kind of trauma.
And that’s definitely the beginning. Rootfisk is translated as lye fish because it is exposed to sodium hydroxide, commonly known as caustic soda or lye.
This caustic agent is also used as a drain unclogger and is applied to stockfish (in this case, dried cod) and washed off before eating. Although it may be a little alarming, this is a completely safe cooking technique.
And you can’t argue with tradition. I grew up in Trøndelag, where many Norwegians still choose lutefisk as their main Christmas dish.
“Why do I have to eat this?” I used to cry when I was younger, turning my nose up at the fish and stuffing my lefse (Norwegian potato flatbread) with potatoes, butter, and the bacon bits that my father, who is from Westland, Norway, had incorporated into his meals as a compromise.
However, after all these years, I was excited to return to lutefisk. Taste changes, right?
My mother, Magni Li, reassures me that for her, lutefisk is as much a part of her festive nostalgia as tomtebrig, a homemade fermented malt drink.
“When I was a kid I didn’t like lutefisk either, but now I love it,” she said. “It’s about mood, tomtebrig and tradition. Lutefisk belongs to Christmas.”
It’s true that lutefisk once dominated Norwegian Christmas tables. Swedes, Norwegians, and residents of some parts of Finland traditionally invite rehydrated fish into their homes during the holidays, as do many descendants of Scandinavian people living in the United States.
But times are changing. Nowadays, Norwegians are less inclined to include such traditional foods in their main Christmas meals, and delicate fish dishes are steadily disappearing.
Currently, the national festive dish of choice on Christmas Eve, when Norwegians usually celebrate Christmas, is usually pinneck yacht (boiled lamb ribs) or pork belly, with only 1% still opting for lutefisk.
But as Norwegians become more interested in their food traditions, lutfisk is experiencing something of a resurgence.
Those visiting Norway in the months before Christmas should not be surprised to find lutefisk on the menus of many traditional restaurants.
“Among young people, it has become fashionable to organize lutefisk nights,” says Anegen Bahar Bugge, a researcher at the Norwegian Survey of Consumer Affairs (SIFO), who has observed the revival of lutefisk over the past decade. “Norwegians have become more proud and curious about their food history.”
And it looks like rootfisk’s challenging consistency, flavor, and aroma may be the saving grace.
“Food trends are all about pushing the boundaries of edibility,” adds Burl Bugge. “You have to eat something unusual and give your taste buds a bit of a shock.”
So how did this “strange” dish come about? No one knows exactly how the rootfisk was invented. The story goes that about 500 years ago, a stockfish rack caught fire somewhere in northern Norway, and the fish were covered in ash.
Then it rained, basically replicating the lye bath process that would later be adopted, but in order not to waste precious food, someone decided to find out if it was still edible.
“In the 1800s, lutefisk went from being an everyday food to a Christmas food,” says Burl Bugge, explaining that the dish gained “a real foothold as a Christmas ritual.”
Norwegian food traditions often date back to tough economic times and a simple desire to make the most of what was available.
Fish was compulsory as a Christmas dish during Norway’s Catholic period, which began around the 9th century in the 16th century, but we don’t know whether lutefisk became a festive dish for lack of something better, or because people really loved it.
“It’s definitely a humble dish,” says Jostein Medus, food and beverage advisor at the Norwegian Academy of Culinary Arts in Oslo.
Even today, many people still eat rootfisk at some point during the holiday season, even though it’s unlikely to become much of a celebratory meal on Christmas Eve.
Bar Bugge says Norwegians have become more adventurous with lutefisk since the 1800s, and “that’s when they started adding toppings and the dish became a delicacy.”
Today, lutefisk accompaniment has spread throughout the universe, and everyone wants something different.
“A plate of proper lutefisk with all its decorations is never a small thing. It’s a big feast. There are so many colors, flavors and variations,” says Odvar Hemsoe, director of the Lutefisk Festival, an annual festival celebrating this unique dish.
“We like bacon lardons, peas and potatoes, especially almond potatoes. We also have a lot of mustard, and some people like shredded brown cheese.
“Some people like to drink a little bit of golden syrup for sweetness. It’s not unusual to have two glasses of rootfisk, but no one can afford dessert.”
At the Lutefisk Festival, which has been held in southern Norway since 2013, lutefisk meals are served at a series of events in the lead-up to Christmas, just as many Norwegians are introduced to fish these days. A prelude to the festival is also held in Minnesota, which has a large Norwegian-American population.
Hemsoe, who eats up to 10 plates of lutefisk during the season, explains that the kitchen is carefully evaluated to ensure it provides high-quality lutefisk that people will come back for.
Eating “jelly-like fish that you actually have to eat through a straw” is the reason many people avoid it these days, he added.
But Hemsoe is no purist. I’m all for adding new elements, such as serving dishes with sparkling wine or cider, rather than just beer and akevit (a potato-based spirit).
“This way we can recruit more people to Lutfisk,” he says.
No one really wants to fight about accompaniment, but tension inevitably arises on the topic of what makes a good lutefisk.
“You’d be hard-pressed to find a more unusual dish. What can I say, there’s a huge difference in quality,” says food and beverage advisor Medus.
“Simply put, some people like to lye the fish pretty heavily, so you get a more jelly-like consistency. And if you lye the fish less, the result is more like fresh cod with whiter flesh.”
It’s true that the latter is easier to love, but my mother won’t ask me that. “For me it’s not lutefisk,” she says. If you’re going to do it, you should do it properly.
The lutefisk meal I grew up with was a more humble dish of the time, just butter and lefse.
My aunt, Turid Li Bjornerd, still likes to eat that way. “I want to experience the taste and remember the feeling of Christmas when I was a child,” she says. “And I’m looking for a sense of simplicity in a time of excess.”
My mother still bakes lutefisk in the oven, a method recommended by Medus, who is also a chef.
“Salting the fish at least 20 minutes before grilling will release more moisture and firm it up a bit,” he says.
Medus likes mustard and bacon with lutefisk. For something a little different, he suggests serving it with toasted garlic and browned butter, or chili peppers, ginger, and soy sauce.
Medus is all for “dipping into tradition”, but says Norwegians shouldn’t get too picky about ingredients if they want more young people to try lutfisk.
“For these traditions to survive, we need to embrace reinvention and involve the next generation in it,” he says.
I returned to Lutfisk in 2023 for my grandmother’s last Christmas at home before she moved to a nursing home. I’m so grateful to be able to have that experience with you again.
But while my adult palate enjoyed this encounter with lutefisk with the help of very modern toppings, the best part of the experience was preparing the dish with my mom while my grandmother supervised from her chair. This goes beyond taste, it is a cultural heritage that has been passed down to me.
As my mother said when I asked her what she thought of our lutefisk tradition, “It is what it is.”
