07.23.08
genetic malnutrition
My great grandfather died (of a ruptured appendix) when my Nana was only ten years old, her mother, my Granny, had only ever been a wife and mother and in those days it was far more difficult for a woman to find work especially when she had four young children at home. Granny managed to pay the bills by doing a bit of sewing and housework for other people but there was little left at the end of the week for anything extra…even food. The five of them had to subsist on what they had or could grow which was very little at that time so their cupboards were bare and their meals were meager at best. Granny tried to stretch her groceries as far as she could but times were tough and she had to fill her babies tummies as best she could with what she had. There were a few staples that could be bought cheaply back then and it’s funny to me that many immigrants used similar ingredients to feed their families…Italians had gnocchi, my husband is of Russian descent and his Doukhoubor ancestors made perogies from flour and potatoes, my Irish clan did about all that can be done to a spud and were nearly wiped out without them. Granny could buy old potatoes for much less than the new ones and was often given the soft spongy spuds that other people thought were no good. Flour and salt pork were also inexpensive so she called upon her Swedish heritage to fuel her family.
We call it palt but when I looked it up online it had other names as well, pult, kumla, kropps and klub, and some just call them Swedish potato dumplings. Apparently the original recipe was for blood pult and called for blood (cow blood I would hope) instead of potatoes…I am thankful that that was not the version handed down in my family. We peel the tubers and grate them…last time I used my food processor and that saved the added bonus of knuckle meat in the mix…we then add a little salt and enough flour to glue the shreds together in a sticky doughy mess. The salt pork is chopped into small pieces and while some suggest pre-frying them we prefer them raw. The dough is formed into baseball sized orbs and a tablespoon or two of the salinated pig is inserted into the center. The balls are then placed in as-big-as-we-can-find pots of boiling water and let them cook for an hour. We salivate waiting that sixty minutes for the palt to be ready. It’s sick really but we can’t wait to dig into the leaden spheres of high carb, high sodium pasty goodness. This may very well be the most dense dish ever but it slides easily down the gullet with the slab of butter we slather on each hemisphere as the balls are cut open. It sounds disgusting (and honestly they don’t look terribly appetizing either) and really there are very few non-family members who enjoy the heavy meal like those of us who were raised with it…though there are a few who don’t mind it fried up the next day with a little ketchup…which is a waste and sacrilege to those of us who preserve the purity and blandness of the freshly boiled blobs. We only eat palt once or twice a year (because it takes six months to digest it) but when we do we make it to share with as many relatives as possible… which also serves to distribute the guilt that comes with eating such a meal.
My nana called my (tattooist) brother a few months back and after their chat he was so homesick he made palt for his family. It’s just one of those little ties that bind my maternal family together. We were going through my grandmothers old photos a few weeks ago at the lake when we decided we should boil up a batch the following weekend. My youngest brother (sic) is a celiac and unable to eat gluten (flour etc.) so he has not had the ‘treat’ in years. He and his wife were coming to the lake the morning we decided to make the dish so I made them a few with soy flour, it may not have been the same but he enjoyed it nonetheless and I think he appreciated being re-included in the tradition. We boiled the balls over the campfire as we all sat around visiting and drinking coffee, celebrating the moments of our lives (General Mills International coffee) as we waited the sixty minutes until we could dig in.
I think part of the appeal of palt (because really it’s not about the gourmet-ness of it) is that it’s a meal that is prepared collectively, we all pitch in, peeling, grating, chopping mixing and whoever is not in a palt-coma afterwards even helps wash up the messy pots. It’s a beautiful thing really…too bad we don’t get that excited about salad.
Last Saturday my mom’s cousin Kris and his daughter were on their way home to northern Alberta when they decided to pop out to the lake to visit us and take a break from driving. We were all quite excited that they stopped in, it’s been far too long since we last saw them and it was barely moments after hugs and greetings when he announced in what is like a familial battle cry “We brought potatoes and salt pork!” We didn’t have the heart to tell him that we were still digesting the palt from two weeks prior so first thing the next morning with our peelers and graters in one hand and our coffee cups in the other we tackled yet another batch. It was while we were waiting for the palt to cook that Kris told us of their origin and the hardships my great-grandmother faced and triumphed over. I think my granny would be proud to know that what was once a monotonous staple to her children is now a delicacy and as much about comfort and family to her descendants.
Steve said,
July 23, 2008 at 11:35 am
I’m having troubles with my gut just reading that. But it does sound fun to make, what with everybody helping and getting under each other’s feet and all.
Our family tradition was just getting drunk, but that stopped when acouple of us landed in AA and the rest got too old for it. I like your way better.
Reed out.
Kinnigurl said,
July 23, 2008 at 2:48 pm
Palt sounds positively like crazy carb catastrophe, but I’m sure it tastes like all things wonderful and homey. My grandfather was Swedish, but we never had anything like palt. However, we did have the salt pork, which my grandmother used to lightly cover in flour and then fry in lard and then she used to make white gravy with the pork drippings which we would then slather all over our boiled potatoes. Kind of the same idea, just not in one big ball! LOL….I used to make this when I first got married because I miss home and my grandparents a lot, but over the years I made it less and less. I think if I ate it now with all the grease I would probably have a gallbladder attack that would never stop!
heartinhand said,
July 23, 2008 at 2:50 pm
Palt sounds strikingly familiar to “Poutine Rapee” that we used to have at my Grandmere’s house when I was a kid. I don’t know, but it sounds really close! Ever sprinkle brown sugar in them? That’s what the Acadians do!
LOTGK said,
July 23, 2008 at 4:13 pm
Sounds like a meal the Grassy Knoll institute clan would enjoy.
And photograph…..
Bitzky said,
July 23, 2008 at 5:58 pm
Oh my God! Palt, the flagship of northern Swedish cuisine! I have no idea that you have it as a family dish! It’s awesome, just like all other dishes containing pork and potatoes!
And I just had some pierogis with cheese and shrimps yesterday (it’s a very experimental combo but turned out to be quite good).
Btw, I had some poutine at the Calgary airport. It was served as a side dish but it should be a dish in its own right.
bohemianhippie said,
July 24, 2008 at 1:56 am
That’s an awesome story. I love things that are routed in heritage and then become a tradition with families. I think many families let a lot of traditions fall to the wayside in this fast paced digital world. Glad to see you’ve got the “balls” to keep the family tradition alive Ben.
sladewilson said,
July 24, 2008 at 4:22 am
That was a beautiful story and I’m sure you’re granny would be proud. Traditions are meant to be passed on and revered…
Melissa said,
July 24, 2008 at 10:54 am
What a neat story Ben. Traditions are a great thing!
sic said,
July 24, 2008 at 3:23 pm
I figured Bitzky would know all about palt. Too bad we didn’t make it for him when he was here. Next time!
You forgot to mention that, the next morning, we slice the palt into pieces that we fry in butter. Better than any hash browns ever.
We’re going to try it with tapioca flour instead of soy next time, it should bind better. If I evre decide to blog again, I may just blog about it.
Man, I really want some now… mmm…
Deej said,
July 24, 2008 at 6:24 pm
I think the tradition behind it makes it really special. My tummy was doing loops and rolls as I read about it, but it made me smile to see how your family has hung onto this meal and still make it into an event to share.
I hope you always have your boiled blobs!
slayerbarbie said,
July 24, 2008 at 11:40 pm
I love family traditions. They are awesome. I think they’re awesome because you’re doing the same things that generations have done.
We have our lovely matzo. Not nearly as cool to make as your palt.
aintgotno said,
July 25, 2008 at 6:33 pm
what a freaking fabulous story
Bitzky said,
July 26, 2008 at 5:59 pm
Sic: OR you could come here and enjoy the local palt!
ulla said,
July 27, 2008 at 1:23 pm
happy birthday sweetheart, i spammed you on fb also.
heidiland said,
July 27, 2008 at 6:41 pm
Stories about old family traditions are always wonderful, and I think that when food is involved, it creates a different kind of connection than just a story alone.
I enjoyed this. It reminds me of eating my Gramma Rose’s homemade chicken & noodles, particularly the gut-busting carb blast.
Chica said,
July 29, 2008 at 2:29 pm
I didn’t know what palt was so I had to google it, and it sounds like an awfully weird way to easy potatoes, but it would totally work! In fact I may just try and cook some myself one of these days.
Traditions are great, but meant to be changed slightly by every person.
heavensdevil99 said,
July 30, 2008 at 10:40 pm
I found you!!! ~huge hugs~ I’ve missed you soooo much.
On the palt, I’m not too sure if I would like it (I’m picky) but I would give it a try.
With our family it’s Grandma’s fudge and some of the desserts she made at Christmas time. My Mom makes them and we all look forward to them.
Take care! ~another hug~
thyme said,
July 31, 2008 at 12:34 pm
Our family traditions stopped when my grandmother got too old to uphold them. That is on my mothers side. On my fathers side there were no traditions, not even birthdays. I must confess the palt doesn’t sound very appealing at all, but if I could have the tradition with it, I’d gladly eat a ton!
Lady Visine said,
August 11, 2008 at 3:59 am
I like Luke’s idea of going to Sweden to try some palt. Wanna go with me?
You’re driving, since I can’t swim that well.
Seriously, if/when I make it up your way, I’ll give your palt a taste. Anything to help your family traditions flourish. That’s a lovely tribute to your Granny’s endurance under hard times.