As if we needed any more evidence of superior Nordic brainpower, watch this:
Heh heh heh. The BookBook. I can just hear Grandpa Peterson chuckling over that one. Right after he finished his raspberry pie and very-weak-but-constantly-present coffee.
Speaking of food, I’m glad to see that my fellow Swedes are concentrating their brains on what they are good at (witty commercials, impossible-to-construct furniture) because they are certainly no great shakes in the culinary department.
My Grandma Peterson used to serve a traditional dish called lutefisk every year at Christmas. It’s made from a fish that’s been buried in the ground (limestone soil, to be exact) for weeks, or maybe even months. Then it’s dug up and buried in the middle of an innocent-looking bowl of custard. Yes, custard. With cinnamon on top, even. I couldn’t make this up. You can ask the Dude.
My brother Roger married a Swede and lived in Stockholm for a while, where he got progressively skinnier and skinnier (not) eating the food. (It’s a fact that Swedes don’t age, they just shrivel and turn into beef jerky.)
He got into big trouble once opening a can of some sort of preserved fish. Turns out it is against the law to open one of those indoors. It smells that bad.
I guess you now know why you don’t see many Swedish restaurants. Danish ones, yes. Swedish ones (with apologies to Marcus Samuellson, who is, after all, half Ethiopian) — hardly ever. But, hey. Those Swedes sure know how to make a witty TV spot. Or at least pick an agency who knows how.
What’s your favorite Swedish television commercial? Or, what’s your favorite Swedish anything?
Oh, and if you’d like to enjoy another Apple-inspired anecdote (but with no Swedes in it), check out ‘Daddy says ‘Don’t touch’, which talks about Steve Jobs, his kids, and Family Technology. Or, there’s another you might like (no Swedes or Apples, though) called ‘What’s up with all the apps?’ (It was my very first post, ever. See what you think).
Amagansett, New York. September 2014