The Tantes

Within a few weeks of being settled in our home in Norway, we invited my husband’s three “Tantes” (aunts) over for dinner. I was pleased they were our first dinner guests since they are all such fine old ladies.

They couldn’t have been more impressed with our place, and how “koselig” (cozy) it was. They wondered how I knew what to ship over since I didn’t know what furniture I’d end up with and it seemed to them everything matched perfectly. They thought our living situation was more than a miracle (it was – we lived RENT FREE) so they were just shy of genuine shock over the whole situation because nothing is free is Norway. They squealed for a very long time over every decorative detail, and again at dinner over all the things they tasted (I made American food). Tante Kari had never eaten yams in her entire life (she’s 81) and she wondered if I added food coloring to them to get them that orange. I was glad they were so pleased with the food since it was a genuine challenge to make that dinner.


I shipped over my beloved Cuisinart food processor so I could make some of my favorite things like Potato-Cheese soup. It needs to be pureed and I discovered too late that it was a waste to bring that machine. The electrical converters I brought to deal with the voltage differences between America and Europe only go up to 85 watts and that food processor sucks at least 110, so it blew a few fuses before I gave up trying to use it. I served the worst looking soup in my entire life as I tried to puree it with a hand mixer but the carrots just wouldn’t mush up like the potatoes. I apologized for its appearance, but it still tasted good so I was off the hook for presentation.


Then I made a Lemon-Blueberry bread for dessert that is to die for, but I wasn’t used to the difference in Celsius versus Fahrenheit ovens and I cooked it too hot so that the top burned and the innards were raw. I was quite frustrated with the whole mess but I served it anyway because I had no other options since all the stores are closed on Sundays. Fortunately, I had some Vanilla Sauce. The Tantes all smothered their bread with the sauce and then raved about how good the dessert was. Like I said, they are fine old ladies.