THE HARVEST PORRIDGE

Mother coocing Harvest porridge

In my boyhood days was "Harvest porridge" a fixed annual tradition on line with Christmas. It was an event that had the status of a family fall harvest thanksgiving. But there was a big difference; while the Old Norwegian tradition indicated that Thanksgiving should be celebrated around Michael-mas on September 29, was Harvest porridge until pushed forward to Saturday before school starts.

The Christians Vikings boasted something violently by Archangel Michael (Mikkel) because he, according to Revelation, had led the white angels of the heavenly war against Satan and his black comrades and displaced abominations from heaven down to earth.

On Bringsjord there was no sympathy for the Archangel. This was do to the first Degner on Bringsjord, Ole Omundsen, tragedy. Heading to his church ministry he received a strong personal affliction down in Døldegrova where he had to give up in a fight with the Devil. The Ugly ripped from him Kingos Psalmebok and throw it into river´s Kirk Vade.

After this experience Ole stood on the barn ground and provided a compelling argument that there was no reason to celebrate Thanksgiving that Mikkel had driven the Devil down on Earth, indeed that they had come far better off both  Degner and other Bringsjord-people if The Ugly had remained where he really belonged. He was Degner (clocks and church songs) in Aa Church from 1705 to 1739 when he had to stop because the pastor and congregation for some time had annoyed at his obvious drunkenness.

There was never talk about celebration of Degner or Mikkel that Saturday night mother summoned the family to enjoy "Harvest porridge". The timing was determined by the hay entered the barn house and the farmer's oldest son had to return to her work as a teacher at Storhaug school in Stavanger. It was not so much the farmer's son could contribute to haying, but everyone who had contributed anything, had the right to of bushes around the table when turned porridge was served. And Ludvig was fair to have around in the lengthy coffee breaks where we waited for the hay to dry. Then he shared his vast knowledge with us, knowledge that we a beautiful day could well get use of.

When we, for example, one day asked the master of why his fingers were so much thinner than the father, we got a good introduction to Darwins theory of evolution. "It's so that the giraffe has a long neck because he should be at the leaves that sits at the top of the trees, and the pig has short neck because he has short legs and should only reach down to Sydra in pig faith. Likewise, it is with the hands size. Dad have large, powerful hands because he works hard with them all day long, while I using hands little, mostly for writing with chalk and pencil, and therefore mine fingers are much slimmer”.

He looked searchingly at us twins, to see if the message had sunk in and I hesitated before I came up with a crooked finger: "If it is so father most work with his hands, and you work mostly with the brain, so should you well ..." He realized the drawing and got me forestall: "Yes, Finn, I see enough where you want to go. The reason I have so much higher brow than our father, is of course because I after many years of education have so much more lessons in my head. In the past there has blasted on to his forehead and even has begun to turn bul wearing. "

He bent forward and lifted the straw-hat. "Do you see the two bulges I've gotten at the top of my forehead?". And he was kind and let us respectfully recognizes the bulge with fingers.

Kjell thought about it and came with a clear warning: "If you now will be even wiser, you'll grow horns on his forehead - just as The Ugly!" This heartfelt brotherly warning fell not particularly on good ground and the straw hat came quickly back on space.

Much know and Much Warmth...

My mother took boiling porridge very serious. As long as I can remember was the porridge cooked in milk and rice to "rice porridge." Since I was born in late 1941, I do not remember how it was with Harvest porridge during the war; probably they had to settle for "gruel", porridge cooked in flour and milk. But after the war we got «america packages" from the family "over there, you know," with packets of "Uncle Ben's" rice and other goodies as "Sun-Maid" raisins and Wrigley's gum.

The first years after the war, we still had a large, black wooden stove in the kitchen. Then it was fairly easy for mom to cook rice porridge. The amount and thickness of the sticks of wood, regulated her heat so that the porridge was not burnt in the bottom of the thick iron pot. A stirring now and then with wooden spoon was all that was needed.

Much harder was it a few years later. Then the wood stove replaced with a white electric stove magazine. "Magazine" was a large metal container that was hot all day and always a little too hot to cook rice porridge on. Accordingly, had the mother stand strong and stir in pan constantly. And the pot grew larger year by year. Now it was not just mother and father and the nine kids who were of bushes to rice porridge. As the older sisters our grew, came in-law and grandchildren, "an mass."

And these sons-in-law knew certainly not to stay silent. Mother was glorified for the unforgettable good porridge. And mother flared and tried each year to make it any better than last year.

Everyone in the family knew the great porridge expert was Peder Sandal, married to Lillian, and son of Adolf who worked at “Lyngdal Hattefabrik” before it burned in 1913. Peder had the big biceps that could lift more high on pitchfork than anyone else. 
One could see that he was an expert in the way he ate porridge. A little careful breath at the age of the spoon before he slowly and carefully chewed and candies on porridge, not just once, but five or six times the porridge rolled back and forth across the palate. He used a similar technique a sommelier user when he will sample the wines to fill the basement with.

And we Twins, who did not know better, used to say, "I chew no porridge for you twice times!", when someone was slow and asked, "huh?" even though a laborious had explained a case thoroughly once. Although we realized now that this the saying was all wrong use. The porridge should be chewed several times, perhaps five,!

Peder Sandal; porridge gourmet

There was silence around the table when Peder stuck spoon porridge dish and slowly try tasted at this year Harvest porridge. Then he raised his eyes browns, looked at mother-in-law and said: "Lina, this is the best porridge I've ever tasted!!!" Then the celebration erupted and blackcurrant juice, butter flakes, sugar and cinnamon, were moving fast.

After this porridge-orgy had the men and the kids to stretch their legs and father led the way into the barn where a hay barn filled to the ceiling tempted kids to boisterous cliff. Earlier in the day, while my mother cooked porridge, we had swept the barn and yard with paste of birch twigs, and disconnected “hay drum” - with the brand new “drumtonga” - from the long sled and stowed it along the wall on grain hayloft. There were still several weeks to grain harvest would begin and everything was well presentable and organized.

Years later, when mother was retired in the yellow house on Riverside and Kjell harvest hay in "white plastic farmer-eggs" at all times of the year, admitted mother that she had not quite coped pressure of expectations from Peder and the rest. Some years, she had mixed in a little cream to rice porridge. At first it was just "a little bit", later it became something more...

This story was printed in the local newspaper "Lister" on Saturday 8 August 2015