It was a combination of nostalgia, cooler weather, and sheer madness that inspired me to dig deep into my Norwegian heritage and attempt a baking feat unlike any I've ever undertaken [by myself]. Norwegian girl gone made lefse...with A LOT of help from my daddy and my baby girl.
I've had the tools for lefse making for a couple of years now. The griddle with the ability to get super-duper hot. The potato ricer. A pastry board. And the most important thing of all: the lefse stick. And despite my best intentions, I've never pulled them out to use them. Oh, I've had the best of intentions. Those intentions just never went anywhere.
Until now.
Thursday I was out running errands and picked up a 5 pound bag of potatoes. Russet potatoes to be specific. It HAS to be Russet. (Or as my Uncle Mark hollered to my grandma as she read off her recipe to me "the white potatoes, NOT red!")
Friday, all of those white potatoes found themselves cleaned, peeled, and boiled 'til fork tender before taking a trip in the potato ricer operated by a near-naked four year old. Something about "Isn't it so funny that I am cooking naked mama?!" Umm...sure?
Eight cups of riced potatoes--minus one spoonful courtesy of Libby, who valiantly tried a bite to see if they tasted like more like rice now (which she loves) instead of potatoes (which she hates)--and a lot of butter sat overnight in the fridge to cool.
Which brought us to: LEFSE SATURDAY!
In all truthfulness, I didn't plan perfectly. I was all set in my apron, my lefse-making tools at the ready when a little hiccup occurred in regards to a recipe. I had found one online that I intended to double...except the doubled measurements didn't match up with the measurements of the recipe that came with the lefse griddle. There were discrepancies regarding all of it: the amount of cream, the amount of salt, even the amount of flour! A quick search online didn't exactly help...I found a lefse recipe on FoodNetwork that didn't even call for potato! (Honestly, you can't call that lefse!)
Family to the rescue. A series of calls and call backs and I had a tried-and-true, Grandma-worthy lefse recipe. Two actually. One called for sour cream and sugar, the other for whipping cream and salt. Thankfully they both used the same amount of flour.
I did a little combo of the recipes. Buttered, riced potatoes got mixed with salt AND sugar, heavy cream, and flour. Before you knew it, Libby and I were on our way making balls of potato dough that went straight to the fridge to stay cool.
One by one, those balls of dough were rolled out...on a floured board...with a floured rolling pin...with flour sprinkled liberally at various intervals until they were paper thin.
Hold up...that made it sound WAY too easy. I've got a lllooonnnggg way to go before I can call myself an expert lefse roller outer. Seriously, that is a hard job! Sometimes the dough was too sticky. Sometimes the board was. I had to start over more than once. And just when I thought I'd gotten into a rhythm and was getting the hang of the whole rolling thing, I'd knulle one up. (Yeah, that's a Norwegian swear word thrown in there...deal with it!)
Nevertheless, they all made it to the griddle.
Check out my handsome helper. My daddy and the newest family member to learn how to flip lefse left-handed! Can't lie...he had some mad skills picking up that paper thin dough and transferring it to the griddle.
And that's how we spent Saturday mid-afternoon. I'd roll (occasionally with help) and he'd cook, until we had a pretty impressive stack of homemade lefse! Some went home with dad, some stayed home with me, and the majority was folded and frozen for Christmas dinner. Lefse at Christmas...that's a holiday tradition that can't be messed with. Especially now that I know how to make lefse myself!
Elsker alltid,
Kendra
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