Potato Lefse With Brown Butter

Lefse is the Norwegian flatbread that crossed the Atlantic with the Scandinavian immigrants in the second half of the nineteenth century and has remained a Minnesota holiday ritual without serious interruption since then. The original Norwegian lefse tradition is itself varied — there are dozens of regional versions, from the soft potato lefses of eastern Norway to the dryer, more cracker-like versions of the western coast — and what arrived in Minnesota was already a hybrid form, adapted to the potatoes and flours and equipment that the immigrants found here. The Minnesota lefse has been further refined and re-refined across generations of grandmothers, each of whom has an opinion about how it should be made and each of whom is entirely correct.

The arguments are deeply held. Butter or margarine in the dough? Sugar or no sugar? Lutefisk accompaniment or sweet accompaniment or both at the same meal? Roll it paper-thin and risk tearing, or roll it slightly thicker and accept a more substantial finished bread? Every family has settled these questions, and every family's settlement is the right settlement for that family. Walk into any Sons of Norway lodge or any Lutheran church basement in central or western Minnesota during the Christmas season and ask about lefse, and you will get answers that contradict each other while remaining individually unimpeachable.

The Cold Potato Imperative

The single most important technical point in lefse-making is that the potatoes must be cold when you incorporate the flour. Warm potatoes release starch differently. The dough that results from warm potatoes is sticky, hard to handle, and tears when you try to roll it thin. The dough from cold potatoes is supple, manageable, and rolls without tearing. The cold step is not optional. Cook the potatoes a day ahead, rice them while they are still warm, spread the riced potato on a sheet pan to cool completely, and refrigerate overnight. The next morning, when you mix in the flour and the butter, the dough will behave.

The choice of potato matters as well. Russet potatoes — the standard baking potato — have the high starch and low moisture content that lefse wants. Waxy potatoes like Yukon Gold are too wet and too low in starch; they make a heavier, denser lefse. The russet should be baked rather than boiled if possible. Baking drives out more of the moisture, which produces a drier base and a more cooperative dough. If you must boil, drain thoroughly and let the riced potato dry uncovered in the refrigerator overnight to evaporate additional moisture.

Rolling Thin

Rolling lefse thin is a skill. The standard tool is a grooved rolling pin — a specialty item with raised ridges running along its length, which produce a slightly textured surface on the finished lefse and help to roll the dough more evenly. The grooved pin is not strictly necessary; a standard rolling pin will work, but it takes more practice. The rolling surface should be a pastry cloth or a clean cotton dish towel rubbed with flour, which prevents sticking better than a bare board.

The target thickness is about an eighth of an inch or thinner. You should be able to see the shadow of your hand through the rolled lefse if you hold it up to the light. The dough wants to spring back as you roll it; let it rest briefly between passes if it resists, and turn it a quarter-turn frequently to keep the shape roughly circular. Use a long, thin lefse stick — also a specialty item, but a thin metal spatula or a thin wooden dowel will substitute — to transfer the rolled lefse to the griddle. This is the trickiest moment in the process. The thin dough tears easily during transfer. Practice helps.

The Griddle

The traditional cooking surface is a dedicated lefse griddle — a flat, round electric griddle, usually about sixteen inches across, designed specifically for this single purpose. The lefse griddle holds a consistent temperature across the whole surface, which is important because lefse cooks in about a minute per side and an uneven heat will give you a lefse that is burnt in one spot and pale in another. If you do not have a lefse griddle, a large cast-iron skillet works. The cast iron holds heat well and produces the right kind of light spotting. The skillet must be dry — no fat — and at medium heat. Too hot, and the lefse burns before it cooks through; too cool, and it dries out and gets tough.

Cook the lefse for about forty-five seconds on the first side, until you see small bubbles forming and the bottom is lightly spotted. Flip and cook for another thirty seconds or so on the second side. Stack the finished lefse between dish towels to keep them soft and pliable. Do not stack them on a bare plate or they will dry out and crack.

The Church Basement and Brown Butter

The politics of lefse in a Minnesota Lutheran church basement during the Christmas season are particular. The lefse is being served by women whose grandmothers and great-grandmothers served lefse at the same kinds of events, and the standards have been calibrated across decades. Folding technique, accompaniment, the question of whether the lefse should be served warm or at room temperature — all of these are matters with correct answers in any specific congregation, even if those correct answers differ from congregation to congregation. Defer to the local authority.

The brown butter and sugar accompaniment that this recipe finishes with is one of the older traditions and one of the most defensible. Brown butter — butter cooked until the milk solids caramelize — has the nutty depth that elevates the lefse beyond what plain butter could do. The sugar is sprinkled lightly. Some traditions add a dusting of cinnamon as well; this is contested. Roll the warm lefse around the brown butter and sugar like a small jellyroll and eat it warm. This is what lefse tastes like when it is made at home and shared with a small group, which is what it was always meant for.