Earlier, I boasted that my lefse is better than your grandma’s. My first batch may have been better than your grandmother’s, but this batch probably wasn’t. Still, it’s pretty damn good.
Jake and I come from families with Scandinavian heritages. Our grandfathers epitomized the Stoic Norwegian stereotype and our grandparents drank strong black coffee. My grandparents’ shelves were decorated with rosemaling and books about Norwegian trolls. Although my parents didn’t outwardly embrace their Scandinavian heritage, they wore the wool sweaters decorated with reindeer and played the cassette tape “How to Talk Minnesotan” every time guests arrived. I looked forward to holidays where relatives brought pickled herring and rolls of lefse rolled around thick layers of butter and brown sugar. Growing up in Minnesota, encountering these foods at holiday meals or potlucks was the most normal thing in the world.
Homemade lefse is so special because making lefse is hard. It’s not impossibly difficult, per se, but most certainly a labor of love. The process involves boiling potatoes, ricing them twice, stirring in the salt, butter, and cream, and letting the mixture chill overnight. This step is essential. The next day, one must knead flour into the potato mixture and divide the dough into balls and chill them again. The final step is rolling out the fussy dough as paper-thin as possible and quickly cooked the lefse on a griddle. Making lefse is like a walking meditation.
There’s a reason why one branch of my family prepares it once a year. Everyone pitches in at the lefse-making party to roll out the dough and cook the lefse on skillets and electric griddles.
Lefse cravings are easily solved in Minnesota. Simply visit (most) any grocery store and grab a package from the refrigerated aisle. One can even visit a specialty Scandinavian food store like Ingebretsen’s or cafe like The Finnish Bistro for “lefse scramble” and “lefse wraps.” Pre-made lefse usually doesn’t taste like it’s made with cream or butter, but it’ll scratch the itch.
I am by no means a lefse-making expert, but I know how to make lefse that tastes really good. It’s not paper-thin or perfectly round; some pieces more closely resemble flour tortillas than translucent sheets. I don’t own a special lefse griddle, textured rolling pin, or cloth-covered board. But, if you want to make delicious, imperfect lefse at home, stay tuned as I tell you how to improvise with basic kitchen tools. The one tool you must have is a potato ricer.
Five pounds of potatoes. I use russet. Other recipes specify red.
7 tablespoons melted or softened butter. I use salted
1 cup of heavy cream
1 teaspoon of salt
1 tablespoon of sugar
2 1/2-3 cups of unbleached, AP flour
More flour for rolling out the dough.
Serve with: Butter & brown sugar
1. Fill a large pot halfway full of cold water.
2. Wash potatoes. Peel and cut into similarly-sized chunks. If you save some of the peels, you can roast them into a snack. Toss potato pieces into the cold water as you cut, so they don’t oxidate and turn brown.
3. Place pot on stove top and bring to a boil. Simmer until the potatoes are fork tender or easily smashable with kitchen tongs.
4. Drain potatoes. Rice them twice while they are still warm.
5. Stir in the butter, salt, sugar, and cream. Cover and chill overnight.
6. The next day, knead flour into the potato mixture. I start with two cups and usually end up kneading in about three. You may need more or less. The lefse will have a more delicate texture if you add less flour. Once the dough is mostly incorporated, divide it into two parts for easier kneading. The dough should feel smooth, slightly elastic, and a little bit sticky but not too wet.
7. Roll the dough into small balls and chill for about an hour. Warm dough is almost impossible to work with. It will rip, tear and stick to the rolling surface.
8. Preheat griddle. I use a big electric skillet.
9. Liberally dust your surface and rolling-pin with flour. Gently roll out the ball of dough, making sure to sprinkle more flour underneath and on top as needed so that it doesn’t stick. If you find yourself using a lot of flour, that’s ok. Roll as thin as you can without ripping it. A spatula or dough scraper makes this process easiest. If you find that the particular ball of dough keeps ripping, simply roll it back into a ball, re-flour your surfaces, and try again.
10. Gently transfer your lefse to the griddle with a spatula, dough scraper or lefse stick immediately after rolling it. If you let the paper-thin dough sit on the counter, it will warm-up and stick.
11. Cook lefse until it light golden brown bubbles form. Flip.
12. Transfer cooked lefse to a plate or clean towel. You can fold them in half or quarters. Cover with another clean towl and allow them to cool completely on the counter before storing.
13. To freeze the lefse, layer unfolded sheets between waxed paper. Place in freezer bags and store. Wrapping the bags in foil can help prevent freezer burn flavor. When you are ready to use the frozen lefse, thaw in fridge.
14. This might be sacrilegious, but I like a little crisp on my lefse. Reheat by briefly cooking them in a skillet. Spread with butter, sprinkle with brown sugar, and roll into logs.
Is lefse one of your family traditions? Or have you never seen it before? I love talking lefse.
Helpful Lefse Links:
Heavy Table: Lefse from Scratch: Worth the Effort?
The New York Times: Lefse Recipe by Molly Yeh & Sam Sifton
An Adopted Korean Makes Her First Batch of Lefse: My old Simple, Good & Tasty piece