Soothing Saturday: The Day the Fish Turned to Jelly

Soothing Saturday — is my little corner for slowing down and stepping away from my usual genealogy deep dives. Think of it as a gentle exhale at the end of the week — a space for reflections, small joys, and simple stories written just for the pleasure of it.

And yet, I’m Norwegian. I love tradition. I write about ancestors for fun.

Welcome to this week’s Soothing Saturday, where the coffee is strong, the air smells faintly of pine, and Christmas is sneaking up faster than I’m ready for. The neighbour’s lights are already twinkling, the grocery stores are humming “Deilig er jorden,” and somewhere out there, someone is enthusiastically preparing… lutefisk.

Now, I know this may be risky to admit — especially in Norway, where lutefisk season is practically sacred — but I have to say it:
I hate lutefisk.

There, it’s out in the open.

Every December, it starts the same way. The invitations roll in: “We’re having lutefisk next weekend, you’ll come, won’t you?” The photos appear on social media — proud smiles beside steaming plates of translucent cod. And me? I nod politely and quietly hope someone will serve meatballs instead.

I’ve tried to like it. I really have. Each year I give it another chance, usually armed with a heroic amount of bacon, peas, and butter sauce. I’ve even tried psychological tricks — whispering encouragements to my plate (“Come on, we can do this”) and pretending it’s just another kind of Christmas nostalgia. But no. Lutefisk still feels like something that escaped the lab before it was ready for dinner.

It’s not that I dislike tradition. Quite the opposite — I love the flicker of candlelight, the snow on the window ledge, the smell of gingerbread and spruce, the sound of a children’s choir from the radio. But some traditions are better admired from a safe distance, preferably from behind a cup of hot coffee.

Meanwhile, the true believers sit in quiet reverence, eyes closed as they take the first bite, whispering things like, “Ah, this is Christmas.” I smile and agree — but my heart belongs firmly to the ribbe, pinnekjøtt, and a well-behaved medisterkake that doesn’t slide away when you look at it.

So this Soothing Saturday, while the brave among us prepare their annual encounter with gelatinous heritage, I’ll be over here, wrapped in a blanket, sipping my coffee and enjoying the peace of knowing that Christmas joy comes in many forms — and not one of them has to be lutefisk.

And honestly, that thought might be the most soothing thing of all.

Whatever your position, I hope your weekend includes something warm, something comforting, and something that does not wobble when you poke it.