Joel stared at it.

“This is going to be disgusting,” said Flora. “It was just we had some spare.”

“Oh, it’s nice,” said Joel, completely surprising her.

“What?”

“Oh, I was out in the Midwest for a while. They eat it there.”

“Yes!” said Gaspard. “They eat fish in America when they are thousands of kilometers from any sea. Here, we have the problem. Norwegians and Americans .”

They all looked at it. With a furious snort, Gaspard covered the white inflated fishlike substance in a thick layer of salt, twisted it in paper, and threw it in the steamer.

“Thees ees a bad experiment, ” he said grumpily.

Konstantin, on the other hand, was rather excitedly going through drawers and cupboards.

“What are you doing?” asked Isla suspiciously. She was always trying to get him to make less mess, not more.

“We need bacon and peas,” said Konstantin. “And look! I have boiled the potatoes.”

Isla blinked and looked into a pot. He had boiled potatoes—not new potatoes, just ordinary potatoes—with their skins on. There were bits of dirt floating in the water.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone as useless as you,” she said, shaking her head.

Konstantin was crushed. He’d felt he was doing well. She caught his expression.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s solvable. Quick, set the big pot on, there are some local potatoes somewhere and they boil fast. And there are some fresh lardons in the larder.”

Konstantin jumped to what she was saying, and Flora gave Joel a look, as if to say, Look how much better we’re all doing, and found it slightly amusing how excited Joel was suddenly looking about lunch.

TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER and, amazingly, there were mashed peas, fresh tiny boiled new potatoes covered in butter and salt, some little bits of crisped-up bacon, and some sour cream on the side of the old washed table, as Gaspard crossly slung down the pan of lutefisk without even putting it on a plate.

“Okay,” he said. “I am finished with thees experiment. I am going to look for snails. Fintan, you come weeth me.”

The others laughed and beckoned him back and made him sit down, as Konstantin divided the fish and Joel smiled cheerfully as the familiar salty scent reached his nostrils.

“This was about the only happy Christmas I ever had,” he said quietly to Flora. “In Minnesota. I had to go out of state; they couldn’t manage to keep us all on. It wasn’t for long. They were good people.”

Flora laid a hand on his arm. “I think that’s the only nice memory I’ve ever heard you mention from your childhood.”

“Meanwhile Douglas already has a model railway set.”

Flora smiled. “It’s okay, isn’t it?”

Joel tucked in. “Oh, it’s better than that.”

Against all odds—and Gaspard refused to touch it, like a grumpy toddler—the lutefisk was a great hit, and Flora immediately made a mental note to put it on the menu. It was complicated to make, but not difficult, and the ingredients were cheap and local and authentic.