Tell most people you’re looking forward to a lutefisk Christmas dinner, you’ll usually get a disgusted look. But pity. Or “what is lutefisk?” First of all let me say that I am not on the pro-lutefisk bandwagon. I have been subject to the foul stench every Christmas I can remember.

Our Scandinavian heritage dictates that we serve this delicacy (I use this term only in honor of my dearest mother). I’m not caught up in the fervent pursuit of this revered tradition, but somehow it wouldn’t be Christmas without it.

For those in uniform, lutefisk is dried cod that is soaked in lye (yes, the caustic POISON), then soaked again in water to remove said caustic POISON. I won’t bore you with a lutefisk history lesson, but that’s the Reader’s Digest description. Being from Minnesota, it’s certainly a familiar spot at grocery stores and meat markets at Christmas, although it seems to me that it has become less advertised and showcased than it had been when I was younger.

Perhaps this is just another case of how one’s memories and perceptions become distorted as we age. But not. I would not be at all surprised if the per capita consumption of lutefisk is rapidly declining as the geriatric market is drying up as our loved ones pass away. This isn’t meant to be harsh, but let’s face it: lutefisk is not at the forefront of the culinary arts. At least I haven’t seen it as the secret ingredient of the Iron Chef.

So the big day came: Christmas. We celebrate the birth of our Savior and the expansion of our waistbands. Mom has been cooking and baking for weeks. She has Swedish meatballs, potatoes, gravy, lefse, herring, cookies, coffee bread, and all the other Nordic Christmas staples. And then there’s the lutefisk. How do you cook and eat lutefisk?

Well, we’ve tried a few methods, none of which are successful (if by successful you mean an edible product). It is traditionally boiled, but you have to be careful because it tends to crumble into a liquefied mass of goo. . Therefore, you wrap it in gauze. You now have an intact liquified mass of slime. We have baked it. Goo. I heated it up in the microwave. Goo. I think the preferred method of late has been the microwave. I’m not sure, I try to avoid this step.

They say if you cook it right, you don’t get the gelatinous consistency we know and don’t love. I guess I’ve never seen it well cooked. Some people put a white cream sauce on top. We don’t, as it masks the slimy quality of the natural product.

There is a process that my brother has perfected. You have some lutefisk on your plate. Mash some boiled potatoes right next to it. Soak the entire mess in melted butter. It must be REAL BUTTER. Nothing fake to mask the residual bleach taste. Next, salt and pepper. Then you take some potato on your fork, then some fish. They say if you put melted butter on anything it will taste good, but I personally have not found this to be true.

When mom brings out the first plate of lutefisk, you can almost hear the ooo and aah around the table. The dish passes QUICKLY by those of us non-believers, patiently waiting for the Swedish meatballs. As it passes from person to person, the ever-present stench (I mean smell) wafts under our noses like a freight train.

Someone inevitably makes a comment about how well this year is moving. Of course, someone also yells “Where are the straws?” It’s okay, I’m guilty. That’s usually me. The list of jokes and comments goes on, until dinner is over and we’re safe for another year.