YCGL - Extra Bonus (Maybe) - Ode to a Potluck - October, 2000
Because I was writing about our camping potluck, I thought of this. I'm sorry.
Due to popular demand (meaning I decided to do it on my own), I give you:
An Ode to the Potluck
Kind of fun, but not required reading...... This was written for a church potluck in 2000. The chairwoman of the fellowship committee, Jan, asked if I would say a few words about the importance of potlucks in Lutheran tradition, and I wrote this instead.
An Ode to the Potluck
The service is ended, the choir has sung,
The postlude is finished, the acolyte’s done.
The counters are counting, the coffers increased,
It’s now time to gather for a Lutheran Feast.
So shake with the pastor, the intern and all,
And walk down the stairs to the Fellowship Hall.
And so we do gather, by car and by truck,
To join in the dinner that’s known as Potluck.
We gather to dine and to sup and to Praise,
For Potlucks mark the Lutheran High Holy Days.
It’s not like a Seder, with youth’s questions keen,
For newcomers, not confirmands, ask “What does this mean?”
Or “what is a Potluck that’s better than dinner,
Is it something to do with being a sinner?
And what’s this with Hotdish that you carefully dole,
And why is it better than just casserole?
And something else that I don’t think is right,
Is there something sacred with food that is white?”
Well, listen real quiet and I will explain,
The mysteries of Potluck, both complex and plain.
My viewpoint’s Norwegian, I must explain with great pains,
I can’t speak for Germans, Swedes, Finnish or Danes.
But here is the history, as I understand,
That Scandinavian settler’s brought to this land.
Living was tough on those Norwegian farms,
Thin crops stored in Stabburs, which are only small barns.
And only the eldest received any land,
So America must have looked pretty grand.
Winters were long, with deep snow and ice.
Conditions there just were not very nice.
But religion ran deep in those simple farm folk,
And the pastor’s important, in ruffled collars and cloak.
And most traveled far to reach the stavekirk,
And saw church as rest away from hard work.
As my family, the Bungum’s, would row across the bay,
They’d sing hymns in the boat as they passed through that way.
And with them, brought dinner along in the boat,
With bread from the land and cheese from the goat.
And so after service, they’d sit under the eaves,
And eat their big dinner of produce and cheese.
And spend time with food from the net and the dairy,
And spend time with family in the church cemetery.
And their families and friends would extend a warm greeting,
As they’d meet at the church and share in the feeding.
So food and the church were never far parted,
And that’s, I believe, how Potlucks were started!
They came to the states; it was quite a large quota,
Most of my family settled ‘round Minnesota.
The Bungum’s on dad’s side were in Mower County,
And shared with newcomers, the gifts of their bounty.
For immigrants stayed at their farm for a rest,
Till they were ready to travel to the north and the west.
And the Morvig’s on mom’s side helped in a way,
The first church in Polk County was Little Norway.
Brothers Anders and Ashkel both lent a hand,
And the church was built on a piece of their land.
So Potlucks took up an important place,
There was sharing God’s blessing and saying the grace.
And what did they bring to these fancy church feasts?
The best that they had from both produce and beasts.
The food that they brought, whether fancy or crude,
We always called it “Minnesota Soul Food.”
White is the color, due to flour or cream,
Except pickles or Jell-O, which could be red, blue or green.
And bland is the flavor; (it's like food with the blahs),
Too much peppers or spices would bring the “Oofda’s”.
Beef and fried chicken, and also glazed ham,
Or if times were tough, then there might be some Spam.
Mountains of potatoes, with butter and gravy,
And cream corn and beans, both lima and navy.
And there’s rice and there’s barley and creamed soups and stew
But all mixed together to form a new brew.
You take a deep dish, made of glass or of clay,
In the bottom a pound of browned ‘burger you lay.
And then add a can of cream-mushroom soup.
And corn, peas or beans, you add to the goop.
Then fill in the voids with cream, sour or sweet,
For each different flavor forms a new treat.
But if you follow this recipe without any stopping,
It sounds pretty boring, till you get to the topping.
For the cook who thinks of a creative new topper,
Will be commended for a “basement show stopper.”
Potato chips work, but you’ve got to have lots,
Really it’s better to use Tater Tots.
Chow Mein noodles have a taste that some savor,
Fritos with peppers give a Spanish-type flavor.
So for those who grew up on this exciting hot dish,
Memories abound for this food that’s delish!!
But side dishes are important for these church potlucks, too,
And more is much better than only a few.
Here ethnic dishes truly abound,
And their tastes are as strange as their names sound.
And cheeses that range from those mild to those stink,
It’s enough to make a non-Lutheran think,
That While maybe this was a fruit of the farm,
Maybe some of it should have been left in the barn.
And lefse, that round, thin potato pancake,
Us kids would spread butter and then sugar shake.
But grandma would roll up as much as was able,
All of the foods spread out on the table.
Eight cups of potatoes and two cups of cream,
Enough flour to roll it, and fry till no steam.
Homemade was much better than you’d buy off the shelf,
With the whole table for filling, it’s a meal in itself.
And Jell-O, that cold wiggler so close to our heart,
The primary flavors were only a start.
There’s orange, lime and cherry to suck and not chew,
Straw- and blue- berry to name only a few.
Bananas and marshmallows and pineapple slices,
Could be added to stretch it in case of a crisis.
Add nuts and some apples and celery so bold,
A Waldorf salad will chill in a mold.
But Jell-O and others raise a question that’s valid,
How could that much sugar ever make you a salad?
And Pickles, those spicy green nuggets of wonder,
Can come from a watermelon or a cucumber.
And we’ll mention a veggie that’s long and greeny,
Let us not forget the lowly zucchini.
The king of the cuke’s, both in number and size,
Can be the basis of all foods, but pies.
As a filler for hot dish, it cannot be beat,
And zucchini bread, cake and cookies are really a treat.
There’s probably a lesson there, not to be faulted,
Even the lowly zucchini can be exhaulted.
But back to the potluck, ever alert,
The last station before coffee is always dessert.
Pies in abundance, with whipped cream to put on,
With fruits and berries, (though I favor Judy’s pecan!)
And cakes, and cookies, and brownies galore,
That a true cook would never buy from a store.
And then there are bars, I can hardly relate,
All the wonders that make these little squares great.
But chocolate, and frosting, and nuts are a start,
Maybe coconut for accent, or spices for tart.
Made of flour and sugar and lots of butter,
A good bar with coffee can make men’s hearts flutter.
For on the last table sits all the drinks,
There's Koolaide and lemonade made up in sinks.
But it’s the last container that makes us stop,
For there is the liquid, from container or pot,
A drink that can make Lutherans praise rhapsodic,
'Tis the drink that is made from the beans exotic.
Black roasted berrys crushed for maximum flavor,
The coffee, ahhhh, coffee, is a taste Lutherans savor.
Controversy rages o'er the way that it's made,
Either dark and thick liquid or a thin, wat'ry shade.
So coffee, dear coffee, whether weak or strong mud,
You truly are Lutheran Norwegian Black Blood.
So potlucks have held a high place in the church,
The Lutherans will have one wherever you search,
But there’s one type of Potluck that’s held with such fear,
That rarely it’s done more than once in a year.
Its name is so frightening, it’s said at great risk,
For only us Norse folk can stand lutefisk.
Yes, folks, I’ve said it, as I stand before God,
I have eaten, and lived, that foul piece of cod.
A fish that is caught in the great Northern Sea,
It's cut up and dried, till it’s hard like a tree.
Dried, Exposed and open, you mark my words,
Only the rank pieces survive the attack of the birds.
Then people preserved it by soaking in lye,
The contest is to see if the birds or you die.
To prepare it is soaked; it is quite a deal.
The lye will corrode through pans made of steel.
After days of soaking, it makes kind of a gook,
Only then can it safely begin to cook.
It’s boiled and boiled long after it’s caught,
Some of it’s flaky, and some it its not.
Laid out on a platter, the smell makes you stutter,
Until it is covered with mashed potatoes and butter.
Ahh, lutefisk, the lesson you bear,
Covet not, its truly much better to share.
Yes, give it quite freely, without any greed,
If you’re a Norwegian, then give to a Swede.
I’ll tell you a secret, if you won’t sue for libel,
Lutefisk is mentioned right in the Bible.
When crowds followed Jesus to hear what he’d say,
Only lutefisk could possibly feed all 5 K.
Yes, potlucks have always had a great title,
It lives on in churches, active and vital.
Yes, tradition lives on, in this meeting today,
Where Lutheran Church Women still hold their sway.
So with cheers and with laughter, and coffee to boot,
A Lutheran Potluck “er sa godt!”
(Yet I wonder if Luther, as he watches this cheer,
Wonders, "what’s dinner without any beer?")
Thomas Edgar
Written for a Potluck held in October, 2000,
at Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church,
Laramie, WY
To join in the dinner that’s known as Potluck.
We gather to dine and to sup and to Praise,
For Potlucks mark the Lutheran High Holy Days.
It’s not like a Seder, with youth’s questions keen,
For newcomers, not confirmands, ask “What does this mean?”
Or “what is a Potluck that’s better than dinner,
Is it something to do with being a sinner?
And what’s this with Hotdish that you carefully dole,
And why is it better than just casserole?
And something else that I don’t think is right,
Is there something sacred with food that is white?”
Well, listen real quiet and I will explain,
The mysteries of Potluck, both complex and plain.
My viewpoint’s Norwegian, I must explain with great pains,
I can’t speak for Germans, Swedes, Finnish or Danes.
But here is the history, as I understand,
That Scandinavian settler’s brought to this land.
Living was tough on those Norwegian farms,
Thin crops stored in Stabburs, which are only small barns.
And only the eldest received any land,
So America must have looked pretty grand.
Winters were long, with deep snow and ice.
Conditions there just were not very nice.
But religion ran deep in those simple farm folk,
And the pastor’s important, in ruffled collars and cloak.
And most traveled far to reach the stavekirk,
And saw church as rest away from hard work.
As my family, the Bungum’s, would row across the bay,
They’d sing hymns in the boat as they passed through that way.
And with them, brought dinner along in the boat,
With bread from the land and cheese from the goat.
And so after service, they’d sit under the eaves,
And eat their big dinner of produce and cheese.
And spend time with food from the net and the dairy,
And spend time with family in the church cemetery.
And their families and friends would extend a warm greeting,
As they’d meet at the church and share in the feeding.
So food and the church were never far parted,
And that’s, I believe, how Potlucks were started!
They came to the states; it was quite a large quota,
Most of my family settled ‘round Minnesota.
The Bungum’s on dad’s side were in Mower County,
And shared with newcomers, the gifts of their bounty.
For immigrants stayed at their farm for a rest,
Till they were ready to travel to the north and the west.
And the Morvig’s on mom’s side helped in a way,
The first church in Polk County was Little Norway.
Brothers Anders and Ashkel both lent a hand,
And the church was built on a piece of their land.
So Potlucks took up an important place,
There was sharing God’s blessing and saying the grace.
And what did they bring to these fancy church feasts?
The best that they had from both produce and beasts.
The food that they brought, whether fancy or crude,
We always called it “Minnesota Soul Food.”
White is the color, due to flour or cream,
Except pickles or Jell-O, which could be red, blue or green.
And bland is the flavor; (it's like food with the blahs),
Too much peppers or spices would bring the “Oofda’s”.
Beef and fried chicken, and also glazed ham,
Or if times were tough, then there might be some Spam.
Mountains of potatoes, with butter and gravy,
And cream corn and beans, both lima and navy.
And there’s rice and there’s barley and creamed soups and stew
But all mixed together to form a new brew.
You take a deep dish, made of glass or of clay,
In the bottom a pound of browned ‘burger you lay.
And then add a can of cream-mushroom soup.
And corn, peas or beans, you add to the goop.
Then fill in the voids with cream, sour or sweet,
For each different flavor forms a new treat.
But if you follow this recipe without any stopping,
It sounds pretty boring, till you get to the topping.
For the cook who thinks of a creative new topper,
Will be commended for a “basement show stopper.”
Potato chips work, but you’ve got to have lots,
Really it’s better to use Tater Tots.
Chow Mein noodles have a taste that some savor,
Fritos with peppers give a Spanish-type flavor.
So for those who grew up on this exciting hot dish,
Memories abound for this food that’s delish!!
But side dishes are important for these church potlucks, too,
And more is much better than only a few.
Here ethnic dishes truly abound,
And their tastes are as strange as their names sound.
And cheeses that range from those mild to those stink,
It’s enough to make a non-Lutheran think,
That While maybe this was a fruit of the farm,
Maybe some of it should have been left in the barn.
And lefse, that round, thin potato pancake,
Us kids would spread butter and then sugar shake.
But grandma would roll up as much as was able,
All of the foods spread out on the table.
Eight cups of potatoes and two cups of cream,
Enough flour to roll it, and fry till no steam.
Homemade was much better than you’d buy off the shelf,
With the whole table for filling, it’s a meal in itself.
And Jell-O, that cold wiggler so close to our heart,
The primary flavors were only a start.
There’s orange, lime and cherry to suck and not chew,
Straw- and blue- berry to name only a few.
Bananas and marshmallows and pineapple slices,
Could be added to stretch it in case of a crisis.
Add nuts and some apples and celery so bold,
A Waldorf salad will chill in a mold.
But Jell-O and others raise a question that’s valid,
How could that much sugar ever make you a salad?
And Pickles, those spicy green nuggets of wonder,
Can come from a watermelon or a cucumber.
And we’ll mention a veggie that’s long and greeny,
Let us not forget the lowly zucchini.
The king of the cuke’s, both in number and size,
Can be the basis of all foods, but pies.
As a filler for hot dish, it cannot be beat,
And zucchini bread, cake and cookies are really a treat.
There’s probably a lesson there, not to be faulted,
Even the lowly zucchini can be exhaulted.
But back to the potluck, ever alert,
The last station before coffee is always dessert.
Pies in abundance, with whipped cream to put on,
With fruits and berries, (though I favor Judy’s pecan!)
And cakes, and cookies, and brownies galore,
That a true cook would never buy from a store.
And then there are bars, I can hardly relate,
All the wonders that make these little squares great.
But chocolate, and frosting, and nuts are a start,
Maybe coconut for accent, or spices for tart.
Made of flour and sugar and lots of butter,
A good bar with coffee can make men’s hearts flutter.
For on the last table sits all the drinks,
There's Koolaide and lemonade made up in sinks.
But it’s the last container that makes us stop,
For there is the liquid, from container or pot,
A drink that can make Lutherans praise rhapsodic,
'Tis the drink that is made from the beans exotic.
Black roasted berrys crushed for maximum flavor,
The coffee, ahhhh, coffee, is a taste Lutherans savor.
Controversy rages o'er the way that it's made,
Either dark and thick liquid or a thin, wat'ry shade.
So coffee, dear coffee, whether weak or strong mud,
You truly are Lutheran Norwegian Black Blood.
So potlucks have held a high place in the church,
The Lutherans will have one wherever you search,
But there’s one type of Potluck that’s held with such fear,
That rarely it’s done more than once in a year.
Its name is so frightening, it’s said at great risk,
For only us Norse folk can stand lutefisk.
Yes, folks, I’ve said it, as I stand before God,
I have eaten, and lived, that foul piece of cod.
A fish that is caught in the great Northern Sea,
It's cut up and dried, till it’s hard like a tree.
Dried, Exposed and open, you mark my words,
Only the rank pieces survive the attack of the birds.
Then people preserved it by soaking in lye,
The contest is to see if the birds or you die.
To prepare it is soaked; it is quite a deal.
The lye will corrode through pans made of steel.
After days of soaking, it makes kind of a gook,
Only then can it safely begin to cook.
It’s boiled and boiled long after it’s caught,
Some of it’s flaky, and some it its not.
Laid out on a platter, the smell makes you stutter,
Until it is covered with mashed potatoes and butter.
Ahh, lutefisk, the lesson you bear,
Covet not, its truly much better to share.
Yes, give it quite freely, without any greed,
If you’re a Norwegian, then give to a Swede.
I’ll tell you a secret, if you won’t sue for libel,
Lutefisk is mentioned right in the Bible.
When crowds followed Jesus to hear what he’d say,
Only lutefisk could possibly feed all 5 K.
Yes, potlucks have always had a great title,
It lives on in churches, active and vital.
Yes, tradition lives on, in this meeting today,
Where Lutheran Church Women still hold their sway.
So with cheers and with laughter, and coffee to boot,
A Lutheran Potluck “er sa godt!”
(Yet I wonder if Luther, as he watches this cheer,
Wonders, "what’s dinner without any beer?")
Thomas Edgar
Written for a Potluck held in October, 2000,
at Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church,
Laramie, WY
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