Mimi has three Mondays off school in the month of January, and today was of course one of them. Long weekends mean 50% more entertaining-of-the-child, so today we made the best of it and visited Poulsbo, an ex-Norwegian enclave on the Kitsap Peninsula.
Poulsbo’s Norwegian roots are legit. The town was Norwegian-speaking until WWII and still today has a notable number of surnames ending with -sson as well as the tallest people I’ve ever encountered, anywhere.
No surprise that there is a grocery to cater to them. This place is amazing. I am used to seeing down-to-business Asian markets; every town of any size has them. To see the same sort of thing filled with Scandinavian/Nordic fare, though? Bizarre. Start by imagining Dollar General. Now imagine it’s 1959 in a remote Norwegian fishing village. There you go. I say this with the utmost affection, by the way. I am 4.3% Scandinavian by heritage.
It’s good for a thorough poke-around every couple months, and we have developed a taste for gjetost. But I digress.
The cheese aisle. I thought I was getting the tinned butter in here, but apparently not. Today they were out of Natural Viking cheese, which is my favorite. I know I like MY Vikings natural, don’t you?
I understand that much of northern Europe loves this stuff.
The pickle aisle. Because they can pickle that.
I can’t exploit a store this way without buying something (especially not when a clerk catches me mid-snapshot and pointedly asks if I’m finding everything), so I bought some licorice. I’m 25% Dutch so I figured it should be at least 25% enjoyable.
It was not as bad as the black “licorice” jellybeans of my childhood.