Sarah Nigbor

I can cook, but it’s not a passion of mine. I much prefer eating others’ cooking. I’ll even do the dishes afterward. One of the most dreaded questions I hear is “What’s for dinner?”

But alas, last night was my turn to make supper and as usually happens when I try to think of something delightful that can be scrounged from the depths of the pantry and fridge (did I also mention I despise grocery shopping?), my mind went blank. Like a white page in a notebook or dead air on TV. Completely and utterly devoid of any creative thought or idea.

I read a statement not long ago that hit me straight between the eyes: “Being an adult means figuring out what to cook for dinner for the rest of your life.” This statement was accompanied by a photo of a banana, Cheerios and spaghetti sauce in a pan on a stove. Not appetizing, but funny. I’ve never forced the family to eat anything like that, but I wonder if they would volunteer to cook more if I did?

I gave up on thinking about supper and went back to putting up our St. Patrick’s Day and St. Urho’s Day decorations. Through the wonder of 23 & Me DNA testing, I discovered that not only am I half Finnish, one-quarter Norwegian and almost one-quarter Swedish, but I am 1% Irish. Some Irish lad or lass weaseled their way into the lineage somewhere with all the Scandinavians.

I’m sure many of you are wondering, what in the world is St. Urho’s Day? It’s the Finnish answer to one-upping St. Patrick’s Day, that’s what. The legend originated among Finnish Americans in northern Minnesota in the 1950s. St. Urho is celebrated for chasing the grasshoppers out of Finland, thus saving the grape crop, vineyard workers’ jobs and of course, wine. St. Urho chased them away by saying, "Heinäsirkka, heinäsirkka, mene täältä hiiteen,” which is telling the grasshoppers to go to hell. Apparently it worked and St. Urho saved the day; therefore, you must drink wine in his honor. Celebrated on March 16 (especially in Finnish communities across northern Minnesota, Michigan and Wisconsin), revelers wear green and purple and fill up on wine and Mojakka, which is a creamy fish stew seasoned with Allspice.

While I will be making Mojakka on March 16 (it’s delicious with a slice of rye bread), that wasn’t going to help me think of supper last night. As you can see, my mind was going in circles as I attended to household chores. But thinking of St. Urho’s Day made me think of my crazy friends of Finnish/Irish descent in the Upper Peninsula, which in turn made me think of the delicious food they made when we were roommates long ago.

My friend Alex was a union painter at Flint Hills Refinery for a time before the UP called him back (a true Yooper can’t stay away long). When we roomed together, he made something he called “Painters’ Potatoes.” I’m assuming because it could be made on a grill in a tinfoil packet while they were at a jobsite painting. I don’t know, but they’re really good.

I wasn’t about to fire up the grill in the blizzard, so I diced potatoes, ham, green peppers, onion and garlic and sauteed them in olive oil in a cast iron pan until they were crispy. Call them what you want, they were delicious, made from odds and ends in the house, and solved the dinner conundrum for one more night. Phew! No one had to eat a banana and Cheerios in spaghetti sauce.  

And yes, I’ll be wearing green and purple on March 16.