15 September 2008

I grew up in a very heavily Swedish town in Northern Illinois.  I guess it’s more of a city, really.  And I guess it’s probably only the side of town where I grew up – the northeast, but generally the side east of the river – that is or was heavily Swedish.  I could be wrong about that, though.


I grew up in a heavily Swedish church in a heavily Swedish town, and the thing to do on Sundays after church was to go to Stockholm Inn for Swedish pancakes and lingonberries.  It didn’t seem odd to have several Andersons, Ericksons (or Ericsons), Gustafsons, Johnsons, Olsons, or Petersons in any of my classes.  I never thought anything of this until I moved away to places that were not overwhelmingly Swedish or – like where we are now – weren’t Swedish in the least bit.

None of this is the point of this post, however.  For work today, I made my Swedish Apple pie from the Kitchen Table Cookbook.  I’m not in the least bit Swedish, and I have no idea why the pie is Swedish, but it’s delicious, and tangentially related to another food that I have sentimental memories of, and there you have it.


0 thoughts on “15 September 2008

  1. That sounds delicious. The only place I’ve lived that had that neat ethnic enclave feeling was Northeast Ohio, where it is perfectly normal to go to a Hungarian restaurant for dinner and people easily pronounce 4 syllable names that seem to have no vowels.


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