The day arrived – First Lutheran’s annual lutefisk dinner.
I wore my white shirt, black pants, and donned my red apron before the noon-time rush. I received instructions for how to set the tables, when to get the lutefisk from the kitchen, and where to find the lefse. I helped a few tables and then it was time – a table of my own.
It was fun. I poured water, carried bowls of corn, and wore this [“I’m the new gal, and I’ve never tasted lutefisk!”] paperclipped to my shirt, courtesy of Pastor Charlie [of First in Blooming – formerly of Salem in Montevideo] –
jD served the noon rush as well and Pastor Charlie made him a little label too, something to the tune of “I’m the new guy. What does it taste like?” Once we were done serving the lunch crew, the workers got to dine. And this girl had to try lutefisk. It was time to prove the paper on my shirt wrong. The white substance between the cranberry salad and the mashed potatoes. This was my lunch time plate:
[suspense builds] I went to the lutefisk supper tonight too. A couple from ROG had invited me as their guest and when a congregation member invites me somewhere, I get excited and hate to turn it down. And so I ate another meal in Blooming.
People asked me lots, “Well. How was it?”
“I tried some at noon. And didn’t have any more tonight.”
Enough said.
The texture was funky. Not quite fish jello but not quite appetizing either. I didn’t even eat the entire piece that you see in the photo, which is quite pathetic to the strong Lutherans who filled their plates – literally filled their plates – with the white questionable stuff.
But I tried it. Check that off the forced bucket list.
there's no place like gnome. 
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