Why Lutfisk will never reach my Christmas table.

Lutfisk. Another one of those Swedish traditions that demands a place on the Christmas table just because. It's rather like our Christmas plum pudding, in the sense that you are not entirely sure you like it, rather you eat it because it's tradition and you've grown up used to the taste of it.

Two years ago, when when we hosted a family Christmas here in Sweden, I served a traditional, flaming Christmas pudding for desert (brought over to Sweden from England curtesy of my mother).

Not one person, apart from myself, ate it. Not even the brandy butter. Just plain horrible, they thought.

Now, I truely do love Christmas pudding. You can imagine my delight when, unwrapping a small gift I spotted under the tree this year, I found my very own, single-portion size of Walker's Christmas Pudding. Tired of hearing me moan that I couldn't find a Christmas pudding anywhere throughout the entire nation of Sweden, my husband had scoured the shops in the city until he found me one - tucked away in a tiny speciality shop in the old part of town. I had to eat it immediately of course, so missed out on brandy butter. But the fresh cream worked fine and this time I didn't both offering anyone a taste.

Back to Lutfisk. What is this odd-textured fish all about? For the first time ever, I was invited to try some from a traditional Christmas table.

Lutfisk is air-dried white fish (such as cod, haddock or whiting). First of all, the fish is soaked in cold water for about a week, then in a solution of cold water and lye (yes, this is caustic soda). This process reduces the protein content of the fish and give it it's famous jelly-like consistency. Of course, the fish is now poisonous, so needs another week of soaking in fresh water before cooking. Traditionally, the lutfisk, when not on the Christmas table, is served with green peas, white potatoes and bacon.

Sounds revolting? Yep. If someone had actually told me before hand, about the process of making lutfisk, then I probably would have politely refused to try some. However, in my ignorance and curiosity, I did. The jelly consistancy and odd taste were nothing compared to the terrible texture of the fish. Unable to swallow the mouthful I had taken, I had to quickly spit it back onto the plate.

I don't think anyone was looking.

I have to commend my husband for actually swallowing his, although I did notice he pushed the remainder of his helping to the side on his plate. Later on, he commented to me that it was probably his worse eating experience ever.

So, to all you Scandinavians of Nordic countries, I have just one question about your tradition of eating Lutfisk at Christmastime - or indeed at any other time - why, why, oh why?

Christmas Days in Sweden

True to Swedish tradition, Santa did come knocking at the door bearing gifts on the 24th December. He slowly entered the room and looked around .... my children's eyes wide with expectation. "Are there any good girls and boys here?" he boomed with a chuckle.

Now, it must be told that my children had already met the "real" Santa, the previous weekend. Shortly before Christmas we took them into the city. We had planned a Christmas shopping spree and a tour of the city to see the giant Christmas trees, Santa's cottage, a ride on the vintage carousel in the main square...you get the picture. As we started weaving our way through the hundreds of other Christmas shoppers, it quickly became clear that this had to be an excursion for fun only, and forget the Christmas shopping. Children are far too excited and impatient to stand at a checkout queue this time of year.

We greeted many Santas, but the one that really won our hearts was sat up high, perched on a glittering silver and purple throne, next to a mesmerizing 10 meter high Christmas tree, in the foyer of the most lavish department store in the city. "This is the real Santa mom!" whispered the children as they ran to greet him. In a steady hand Santa wrote down the boys' names in his enormous gold book, somehow already knew their age, and wrote down their requested gift. "Playstation please" said my oldest, boldly. "Is that Playstation 1, or 2?" asked Santa. Hey!, this guy really did know his toys! This big beautiful Santa had just made my children's Christmas. He offered them pepperkaka (gingerbread cookies) from his secret stash as a parting gift. "Be good!" Santa whispered as he turned to wink at me as we left.

So who was this other chap sitting in the living room of my sister-in-law's house this Christmas Eve? After 5 minutes, it didn't really matter who it was, because the gifts were distributed and children hurried to hug Santa and wave him goodbye as quickly as possible. For they had been instructed to wait until Santa was gone to tear off the wrapping.

And suddenly, there was the Playstation, just as Santa had promised.

On the 25th, it's my turn to celebrate in my true British style (with a few American dishes thrown in for good measure). Having eaten a Swedish feast the evening before, somehow I still had room for a full-blown traditional Christmas dinner with my family and the in-laws. The cranberry sauce was my best ever and the stuffing I made from a new recipe, vanished so quickly that the plan of having cold-stuffing-turkey sandwiches on Boxing Day was soon out the window. The day continued to get busier and busier as family members came and went. Not least, they were also here to celebrate my husband's birthday this day. So the gift-unwrapping continue well into the evening. The log fire kept ablazing, the chocolates melted, and the whisky, wine and champagne disappeared.

The only thing missing was crackers. I didn't forget to buy them, I just couldn't find them here. Only one party shop in the city stocked them and unfortunately they were rather small and pathetic and were really not fit for the Christmas table. What I was after was the true luxury Marks and Sparks variety.

Next Christmas I'll have them flown over to Sweden in good time.

On a high note, I did discover an American and British food shop in the city. Coleman's horseradish sauce, Ocean Spray Cranberry Jelly, Branston pickle and lemon jelly cubes are now stacked in the refridgerator. Unfortunately, the Christmas crackers were sold out.... hey! the Swedes aren't stealing our tradition of pulling crackers and wearing silly hats are they?

Upon spotting Betty Crocker cake mixes, I breathed a sign of relief. I need never attempt to bake my own cake again. God bless Betty, for at last she has reached Swedish turf.