Hi-Line Living - No lye: Annual Lutefisk Dinner continues to draw a crowd

For decades, a tradition with roots from more than 4,000 miles away has been a staple in Havre culture, and for the 86th year, the annual Swedish Meatball and Norwegian Lutefisk Dinner was held Saturday at First Lutheran Church.

What started as a small gathering putting together a traditional meal is now the oldest running ethnic event in Havre, said Jim Griggs, chair of the event.

"Originally it was a small group of people in the old Norwegian church getting together in the parsonage basement," Griggs said. "At that time in town there were a lot of Swedes, Norwegians, Germans, and as more people heard about it, more people just wanted to go."

"They added the Swedish meatballs because not everybody likes lutefisk, and from there it just catapulted," he added. "Into the '50s and '60s they were trying to feed 1,200 people."

Chamene Plum, Griggs' daughter, said that for decades, the dinner crowd would swell beyond the capacity of the church.

"Thirty-five years ago, when I was a little girl," she said, "we had to sit upstairs and wait for our number to be called before we were brought down so we would have somewhere to sit."

In recent years, however, the numbers have dwindled significantly.

Griggs said last year was maybe the lowest turnout he's ever seen in his 44 years working at the event, but this year saw some improvement because of better weather.

"Well, (the turnout) isn't as high as I'd hope, but we are above 300 people so it's better than last," he said.

Griggs said the shrinking turnout is due to tradition-oriented generations of people dying off.

"The ethnic dinners are kind of going away," he said. "Ours is still holding pretty good, but the younger generation doesn't care for lutefisk. It's just a total decline in people that go to these types of dinners."

In spite of the event's lower turnout, though, attendees and workers - many of whom have been going to the dinner their whole lives - remain dedicated.

"We had people from Canada here today, and from up and down the Hi-Line," Griggs said.

With such a long history, the event pulls people from all directions, and, Griggs said, it's because of the personal connections people have to the event.

"The biggest thing is the fellowship that you get here," Griggs said. "We had people show up at 11:30 and they waited to eat, but they didn't leave until 3:30. It's just visiting, talking for hours."

Plum said that the meal itself is also a huge draw because of how unique the different offerings are.

For more than a week leading up to Saturday, volunteers were preparing for the meal. In the end, there were 400 pounds of lutefisk, 200 pounds of Swedish meatballs, 200 pounds of boiled potatoes, nearly 1,000 pieces of lefse - a potato-based Norwegian flatbread - 530 cup-shaped sugar cookies called sandbakkles, plus a myriad of side dishes and toppings.

At $18 a plate, Griggs said the fundraising aspect of the dinner did okay. He said the money raised selling the meals goes to a number of "worthwhile things" including Flathead Lutheran Bible Camp, Feed My Sheep Community Soup Kitchen and the local Boy Scouts, who assisted during the dinner. Anything not eaten Saturday afternoon was boxed up and sold during church the next morning.

Also, as part of the tradition, Plum delivered six meals to people around town who are unable to leave home, and volunteer Judy Solomon, who headed the production of the lefse, brought a family-style dinner for 13 former attendees and workers at Northern Montana Care Center.

So, what's the deal with Lutefisk?

"It's a piece of cod that surpasses all understanding," Hank Tweeten said as he worked alongside Jack Spinner and Jeff Holsapple to prepare hundreds of pounds of lutefisk for the dinner.

The three men turned the garage behind First Lutheran Church into a makeshift kitchen complete with a prep table, boiling station, and a sign that warns drivers of "Parking For Lutefisk Lovers Only."

Working in assembly-line fashion, they prepared the fish by wrapping it in cheesecloth, dropping it in scalding-hot water and then cooking it for seven minutes at over 220 degrees Fahrenheit. Salt is added to the boiling water to increase the temperature and, in turn, cook the lutefisk faster.

Prior to reaching that pot of boiling water in the garage behind First Lutheran, though, the fish had to be preserved with lye, dried and then rinsed and soaked in water. It is only after these processes are complete that the lutefisk arrives in Havre by way of a special order through Gary & Leo's Fresh Foods each year.

Because of the odd preparation tactics involved in making lutefisk, it has become a polarizing meal in many communities.

"It's terrible if you don't like it, excellent if you love it," Spinner said.

"I only try it once every four or five years and I never liked it up until today. Today is the first time that I liked it," Holsapple said. "I've gone for some twice already and I'll probably go back for more."

"It's a way of preserving the fish. The Norwegians or Swedes would go out and catch all these codfish, but they'd have to preserve it. So, they'd sprinkle lye on it and dry it on huge drying racks," Tweeten said.

This preparation of the cod results in a gelatinous, semi-translucent piece of meat with a mildly fishy flavor. If done properly, the fish will be flaky and retain its form. However, if the lutefisk is not cooked at a high enough temperature, or if it sits out too long, it becomes what many people consider repulsive.

Chamene Plum said the result of poorly-prepared lutefisk can turn people off of the delicacy for life.

"If you get a bad piece of fish it is really bad. It can have a Jell-O consistency," she said. "But it was really good this year. My granddaughter will turn 1 next weekend, and she came down for the first time and she ate it. She loved it."

"Start 'em early and then they're hooked!" Jim Griggs said.

A note from the reporter

For all the notoriety lutefisk has as a repulsive foodstuff, it was obvious at Saturday's dinner that with an acquired taste, it can become a sought-after dish for some.

Going into this event, I knew I wouldn't be able to leave the church without giving lutefisk a try, not just because my fellow reporters reminded me every day for a week that I said I would but also because it is a hard-to-find specialty item.

I'll say right now that I was biased against lutefisk, and it didn't help that throughout the day, I heard multiple amusing tales that warned against eating the dinner's featured item. Jack Spinner, one of the lutefisk cooks, had a particularly good one.

"I told a guy the other day I was cooking lutefisk today and he said, 'Oh, I know about this lutefisk. In Minnesota they cook it with a cedar shingle for flavor and when they take it out of the water they throw the lutefisk away and eat the cedar shingle.'"

After a little encouragement from the gentlemen cooking in the garage, and despite my better judgement, I accepted a decent-sized hunk of lutefisk right out of the boiler and dressed it up with melted butter - as is custom - plus a little black pepper.

I watched the wet, translucent meat jiggle on my plate as I took a photo to prove to my Instagram followers that I am adventurous, damnit!

My fork struggled to cut off a bitesize piece, which just prolonged the staring match I was caught in with my snack. Finally, I got some buttery lutefisk on my fork, and without really thinking, I ate it.

And you know what? After worrying all day that I wouldn't be able to choke down a single bite, I loved it.

If you, the reader, haven't had lutefisk, I say give it a go. It's a taste of the history of Havre, and it is rooted deeply in the bloodlines of many Hi-Line residents. And when all is said and done, it's fish. It's prepared in an odd way, and when it's on your plate it might aggressively jiggle at you - but don't be afraid. It's really, really good.