Lutefisk is an abomination that proves Evil still stalks the land. It offends and destroys all the senses.
Sight: It looks like boogers or broiled phlegm.
Smell: It reeks like a rat decomposing under the cellar furnace.
Touch: It has the lovely consistency of a corpse’s innards that have finally exploded in the hot summer Sun, but you’re a dectective and have to search through the body with your glove-covered hands to find the bullet that the killer used to commit this cowardly murder.
Taste: Oh gosh, you’ll want to set your razor to its highest level and shave off your taste buds off your tongue just to prevent tasting the next bite.
Sound: After eating lutefisk, just the mere mention of it will set off PTSS.
It’s been a half century since I had lutefisk. Not enough time has elapsed.
I give up lutefisk every year for Lent. I have a will of iron. I have never even been tempted to backslide.
If you ever are invited to a dinner when lutefisk is served, my I suggest that you join the French Foreign Legion and politely send your regrets from some combat zone.
My cookbook, Following Good Food Around the World, with 180 wonderful recipes is available on amazon.com. My newest novel, Do Lutheran Hunks Eat Mushrooms, a hilarious apocalyptic thriller, is also available on amazon.com