Hidden gems

Who knew that there's an old Danish settlement and active community only a half hour from my home in Lindstrom, Minnesota?

I discovered, well, not on my own but through a friend, the little community of West Denmark, Wisconsin. It is a hidden gem.

Tucked away on beautiful Little Butternut Lake, about a mile and a quarter from Luck, Wisconsin, this small unincorporated community still thrives in the Danish traditions, mostly centered around the Danish Lutheran Church, its historic schoolhouse and town meeting hall.

The church is beautiful and in most respects resembles those country churches I have seen in Denmark. It's actually much like the church my grandfather, Søren Roed, and his family belonged to near Lundby, Denmark.

Danish Lutheran Church, West Denmark, Wisconsin

Many of the parishioners at the West Denmark, Wisconsin church have a long line of history to Danish emigrants here. Many were born here and intend to be buried here. It is a quiet, quaint, close-knit but outgoing community that boasts more activities honoring their heritage than I could have imagined.

 

Their calendar offers an annual aebliskiver breakfast, for example, and monthly community dinners with Danish food served: medisterpølse  (Danish sausage), rødkal (red cabbage), parsley potatoes, herring, frugt suppe (fruit soup), delectable desserts. Their library contains many texts in Danish, along with Danish songbooks, storybooks and CDs. The parish hall has an extensive exhibit of historical photos from Denmark and the local area.

 

The upper level of the parish hall is the place for educational offerings and song gatherings. 
The lower level boasts a wonderful dining room leading to an outdoor patio, and a large kitchen.

Each year, the church community hosts a summer family camp. Of course, I registered and counted the days to its start.

 

I had heard of Danish folks camps in the tradition of N.S.F. Grundtvig, a Danish pastor, author, poet, philosopher, historian, teacher and politician. He was one of the most influential people in Danish history, and his emphasis on continuous learning later evolved into the folk school movement across Europe. In short, Grundtvig's philosophy was to promote a spirit of freedom, poetry and disciplined creativity within the education system. He promoted values such as wisdom, compassion and equality. He opposed all compulsion, including exams, as deadening to the human soul. Only willing hands make light work. Therefore a spirit of freedom, cooperation and discovery was to be kindled in individuals, in science, and in the civil society as a whole. (Source: Wikipedia)

 

The idea of the Danish folk school is to be residential, and for all ages so families are encouraged to attend together. Typically, the day includes morning singing, a coffee and gathering time, lectures, classes in all forms of art from fiber arts to wood carving to water color, papercutting, music and dance. A hearty Danish lunch is served while dinner is lighter fare. There is a lecture or demonstration in the evening, followed by dancing and singing.

 

My mother attended a Danish folk camp in Tyler, Minnesota, for many years and was an instructor there in Hardanger embroidery for the last several years she attended. I have a scrapbook of her wonderful memories from the folk camp days.

 

Although for the camp I attended, I opted to drive home at the end of each day, I enjoyed the best of the day. Those who attended came from far and wide, but many were very local. All were welcoming, easy to get to know, encouragining in learning new things, and many new friends were made.

 

This year's slogan printed on my T-shirt

Some days later, my husband and I drove to West Denmark to take some photos and learn more about the area. The school house, shown below, had been used for many years as a single room with no bathroom and no basement. It has since been remodeled to include a bathroom, a lower level living quarters, and two upper level rooms for eventual sleeping quarters for guests. During camp, the upper level was used for the wood carvers.

 

There is a path to the left of the schoolhouse leading to Little Butternut Lake.
(During camp, there was also log rolling and swimming there.)

 

We learned the area next to the meeting hall was the site of a Lutheran seminary.

We also discovered on our little excursion through the town of Luck, right there on Main Street, a wonderful meat market, Van Meter's Meats. There we found medisterpølse sausage, fresh ground that very day right there at the market. 

 

Medisterpølse is an almost sweet-tasting Danish sausage made of finely-ground pork, seasoned with clove, allspice, onion, salt and pepper, and packed into casings and formed into round links. I followed the butcher's suggestion to gently boil it in water for a few minutes (about ten), then discard the water and brown it up a bit. They had served it at camp but my husband had not tasted it yet so the next Sunday I served it to him, my son and daughter-in-law, all of whom gave it a hearty thumbs-up.

 

Continuing on our little day trip, right on Wisconsin State Highway 35, before making the turn to West Denmark, there is a historical marker commemorating the West Denmark creamery and the first buttermaker, a Danish woman, employed there in the late 1800s.

 

Historical sign on highway

The cooperative was another movement from Denmark that originated as early as the 1300s whereby farmers would join together and share their crops and the proceeds from its harvest using shares. Today in America we see cooperatives used not only in farming, but the dairy industry as well as the gas and electric industry where cooperatives pay dividends from the surplus unused fees charged the user.

 

It always excites me to uncover hidden gems such as West Denmark, and this one so close to home.  I have another excursion in mind, this time to Ida Grove, Iowa, where my paternal grandmother was raised. That will be a later story.

 

Until then, let me know what hidden gems you have discovered right in or close to your own back yard!

 

 

Orange socks

Perhaps every family has a strange wedding tradition. Or perhaps not.

But ours, the Steffen family, has such a tradition.

The men in the wedding party wear orange socks. Yes, orange.

To understand it, you have to go way back to my 1965 wedding, the first wedding in our family. And you have to understand my Dad, who had the most wonderful sense of humor I have ever known in anyone. He lived to tease the six of us kids and went on to tease the heck out of his grandkids as well. To them, he was "Boppa" and they adored him.

So as I was dressing for my wedding in 1965, nervous and frantically telling everyone in my house to hurry up and get ready, I passed my parents' bedroom to see my beloved Dad dressed in his suit, pulling on orange work socks. I'm sure he was posed this way just waiting for me to pass by to see him.

Of course, I freaked. YOU ARE NOT WEARING THOSE SOCKS, I'm sure I screamed. To which he simply casually replied, "Why not?"

This, I am quite certain, put me right over the edge and I went running for Mom to plead with him to change his socks.

It was a joke all along. A word of advice: You do not joke with a bride an hour before her wedding.

Well, the rest of my younger sisters and my brother saw the humor in it. So much so, and possessing a much better sense of calm and humor than me, that for their weddings, they insisted Dad wear orange socks.

Thus, a tradition was born.


This is my daughter, Kristie, and husband Rich, proudly sporting his orange socks on their wedding day.

I have to give credit to the men who marry into this family of ours. Some of them knew Dad; some did not.

But they all have agreed to go along with this tradition to honor my Dad. And they have had a lot of fun doing it.

We celebrated another wedding in our family over the weekend, this time in Hawaii where my sister's youngest, Mac, married Ren Chang, an Oahu native.

I regret I could not attend. What a picture-book setting and what a perfectly lovely couple.

And, of course, the men in the wedding party wearing, what else?

Pictured are the groom, Mac, in the middle; nephew Josh on the left, whose groomsmen also wore orange socks when he married Heidi ten years ago; and my niece Madeline's husband, Eric, who followed this tradition for their own wedding three years ago.

The last wedding for Dad to sport his orange socks was my son, Steve's wedding to Julie in 2001. We continue to honor him; some would think in this strange way, but always he is at the center of the tradition and we remember how he would laugh and show off his socks.

He also always carried a small flask of spirits in an inner pocket of his jacket to every wedding, to "calm his nerves." So far, we've only followed the orange socks-rule.

When my then five-year-old granddaughter was in a dance recital recently and my son was participating in a father-daughter dance with her on stage, it was such a special occasion that he felt compelled to adopt his own orange-socks tradition.

The little dancer and her proud Daddy.

Dad is gone now, but the tradition lives on and he will always be remembered. Strange how these things start.

If you haven't adopted your own family wedding tradition, you might consider starting. However outlandish, however not understood by anyone outside your family, it will be yours and will warm your heart.

Just as the sight of orange socks warms ours.

Rysgryngröt

Every family has its holiday traditions. Ours is Rysgryngröt.

What's that, you say?

Rysgryngröt is a traditional rice pudding. It's made like porridge and served warm and creamy, with sugar and cinnamon sprinkled generously on top. Mmmm....so good.

It is a Scandinavian custom to serve it before Christmas dinner, passed down from my grandmother Ragnhild. Grandma was a Swedish immigrant to America, and kept this tradition, as well as many others, alive in her home.

The reason for serving it first, before the Christmas feast, is that it meets two criteria for those with little food and meager funds, as in our forebearer's time: it's cheap, and it's filling. So eating it first fills the stomach and you need less meat and other Christmas fare.

My mother also kept the tradition alive for us, and we have since carried on for our families. Rysgryngröt has been served at every Christmas Eve celebration in my memory. It's the very first course, usually ready for guests upon arrival.

When my then-husband and I moved to Ohio where we lived for several years when our children were small, and we couldn't be present for the large family gathering, we felt closer with our servings of rysgryngröt on Christmas Eve.

What is most special, besides the fact that it's delicious to eat, is that the custom calls for the Christmas Elf to hide a nut, usually an almond, in the pudding. If the almond lands in your serving, you receive a special gift, maybe a decorated gingerbread cookie, or a candy bar. And with it comes good luck for the coming year!

When we were growing up, the nut truly was hidden, and there was only one recipient. My mother sticks to her story that she never "planted" it, but since I recall a different one of the six of us children getting the nut each year, I have my suspicions. What do you think?

Nowadays, there are numerous nuts and gifts from the Christmas Elf. As new members join the family, or boyfriends or girlfriends attend our celebration, the Elf sees to it that a nut is found in their serving.

The cooking process has changed and the tradition has been altered a bit since Grandma's time. We now make a double and a half batch for our Christmas gathering, cooked in a large crock pot.

Here is the original recipe, which you can alter by doubling or cooking in a crockpot, if you prefer:

Traditional Rice Pudding (Rysgryngröt)
Put into top of double boiler:
6 cups milk
3 tablespoons sugar
1 cup raw rice
1/2 teaspoon salt

Cover and cook over simmering water for 2-1/2 to 3 hours. The rice should be entirely soft and the mixture thick. (Remove the cover the last 10 minutes if not thick enough.)

Serve with cream (half-and-half) and a mixture of cinnamon and sugar.

My granddaughters say Rysgryngröt is their very favorite part of Christmas.

Whatever your holiday tradition, embrace and enjoy. Traditions are an honored part of our past and bind us together.

Merry Christmas!