 Tomten love to take care of animals. You’ve all seen those Christmas gnomes. You know, the cute ones with chubby bodies, stubby little feet, long gray beards, and tall, festive wooly hats that stand straight up (i.e., as if Santa’s cap took Cialis). They’ve likely been on the shelves of your local department store since the very second that Halloween officially ended. You may have already purchased a few of them. They may be decorating your Christmas tree or children’s bedroom right now. Well, dear reader, we have some important information to impart... information that might save you and your pets' lives. There are a few things you need to know about these guys. What are they? First off, they're not technically gnomes. They sure do look like them at first glance, but as any nerd who misspent large portions of their youth reading fantasy novels or the works of the Swiss physician Paracelsus knows, gnomes typically live underground and guard treasure. Gnomes, these are not. These little bundles of Christmas cheer are actually called Tomten (singular = tomte). They are nisse in Danish and tonttu in Finnish. At one point in time, so the story goes, they were normal-sized humans just like us. Farming was their gig. Many stories tell of their being the original owner of a nice homestead, caring for their land until death.  1900 Christmas card by Jenny Nyström. Nyström is considered the creator of the modern Swedish Santa Claus (jultomten), a small man with a long white beard and a red top hat. Creative Commons License (https://snl.no/Jenny_Nystr%C3%B6m) After they shuffled off their mortal coil, they somehow gained immortality, shrank a bit, and decided to stick around the farm. They’re kind of like miniature household deities. However, it would appear that one downside of a tomten’s eternal life is that they are forced to buy their hats exclusively from one very deranged haberdashery. There’s always a catch to immortality… What do they do? Tomten can be very helpful. Stories abound of them doing chores for the new owners and taking good care of animals. They legitimately care about their farm and want to help keep it running smoothly regardless of who owns it. Thus, they don’t behave much differently from any other good Swedish farmer. As you all know, Swedes are a diligent bunch, so these immortal ones are handy to have around.  This is a classic tomten tale with very good and traditional illustrations What do they like? Tomten generally like to work hard, be left alone, and be shown respect. Thus, if you accidentally spill a drink on the floor, you should apologize to any tomten who might be working below you. Apart from respect, tomten don’t need much in compensation for all their hard work. Unlike gnomes, they’re fairly uninterested in money or other fancy things. But, again, everything comes with a cost. So, if you want to truly keep your tomte happy, you can’t forget one important rule: make sure to give them porridge on Christmas eve with a pat of butter on top. Tomten are greedy for butter. They love the stuff as much as Golem loves The Precious. However, they apparently only need their #1 vice one day out of the entire year (don’t ask us why – we didn’t come up with this shit). Therefore, you would be wise to comply with this humble request, making sure to have a single bowl of porridge laid out for your squat friend every Christmas eve. Also, keep in mind that tomten are a bit like Mogwai from Gremlins movies: bad things can happen if you don’t follow instructions. We will type this again in bold: bad things can happen if you don’t follow instructions. Always please put the pat of butter ON TOP of the porridge. If you don't, you could make them angry.  Please don't forget the butter. What happens when they get angry? One story tells of a work-weary tomten who stopped by the house after everyone went to bed to enjoy his Christmas Eve repast. Looking down at the bowl of porridge, there was no butter. The audacity! The insult! A year’s worth of hard work and the stingy farmer can’t even spare one little dab of creamy goodness?!?! The tomten understandably flew off the handle. Red with anger, he ran out of the kitchen as fast as his stubby legs could carry him – his long beard blowing in the wind like he was in a diminutive Victoria’s Secret photo shoot. He threw open the barn door and entered. He stood at the door a moment in silence, his moonlit shadow much larger than his childlike frame would imply. Tension hung thickly in the air, and every single animal in the barn held its breath. Then, in a fit of blind, butter-induced rage, he killed the first cow he saw, blood spurting onto his red felt cap and bits of gore lodging into his long gray beard. When it was over, the tomte noticed rivulets of crimson melting the snow outside the barn. Righteous vengeance was his. Boathrocide isn’t easy work, though, so after he calmed down, he realized that he was still a hungry little tomte. He then walked back to the kitchen, leaving a trail of bloody little footprints in the snow, and tucked into his seemingly bland porridge. Then, he made a startling discovery… there WAS butter, but it was at the bottom of the bowl! Oceans of dairy-induced remorse overtook the tomten, and he bolted out the house again. The penitent little livestock slayer ran to the neighbor’s barn this time, quickly stealing a of cow to replace the murdered one. This tale doesn’t reveal whether or not the farmer noticed that he had a purloined heiffer in his barn, but who cares? The scales of tomten justice were righted nonetheless (except for the neighbor – tomten morality can be a bit fuzzy sometimes). Conclusions
Before deciding if tomten are right for you, consider the details we mentioned above. Though they are cute, remember that they are not ornaments. They can be helpful additions to any family, but they must be paid the buttery respect they deserve. And, before you ask, margarine is not an acceptable substitute. Don’t even try to give them any of that boujee whipped stuff either. Do you want your pets to die?!?! Disrespect can have consequences. Caveat Emptor, indeed… Happy (and safe) holidays from the PD team! Travel Notes: Tomten don’t seem to be associated with any particular part of Sweden. They instead seem to be generally Scandinavian. You can find authentic Swedish tomten at various stores. We purchased our very first tomte (named Ost) at a Maxi ICA Stormarknad (i.e., supermarket) outside of Uppsala, Sweden. We should also say that Ost was not very amenable to being on a plane, so we thank the old gods that we remembered to bring extra pats of butter in our carryon luggage. Even Samuel L. Jackson couldn’t have saved us from Tomten on a Plane.
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We were once again in Sweden and staying in a flat not too far from Nykoping Castle (i.e., site of the infamous Nykoping banquet). The main reason we were there was not for fun or to see this dark tourist destination, but for work. One of us, not the writer of this tale, needed to visit a Swedish collaborator to do some research. We both knew that it would not be boring or tedious, though. The Swedes – and Scandinavians in general – are very warm and generous hosts. It was therefore not terribly surprising that the collaborator and his wife rolled out the red carpet and treated us like family. They invited us over for a homemade vegetarian meal and were also generous with serving up wee glasses of the local tipple, Akvavit*. As the “water of life” flowed along with good conversation, the patriarch of the family started talking about history and, more specifically, what it was like to live in Sweden after the second World War. As you can imagine, there were some very bad times, but as you can also imagine, the Swedes are a pretty stoic people, so it wasn’t all grim. There was still fun to be had. He then told us about a favorite childhood dessert that was quick, cheap, and easy to make, even with post-war rationing. He mentioned the Swedish phrase for this childhood classic, but I can’t remember it – there was too much akvavit that night, but it sounded pretty good. All you needed to do to make this sweet was get a bunch of fresh or frozen berries and boil them with water and sugar. After the berries start to fall apart and turn into a pie filling–like consistency, you add some potato starch to thicken it up. He said that they often added cream if they had any. This fresh berry pudding sounded pretty good and healthier than most desserts we eat in the states. He also noted that it was also easy enough to make that he and his siblings would help his mother prepare it.  Random castle ruins outside of Gothenburg, Sweden. Not related to our tale, but fun nonetheless. He then started laughing and disclosed that there was another name for this favorite childhood treat: “spit cream”. The story was a little confusing to my English ears, but what I gathered was that cherries and other stone fruits weren’t pitted using one of those fancy metal contraptions we have now. They were instead chewed in the mouth to remove the stones. Then, the stones were spit out. Hence the quaint name: spit cream. I thought this was a really funny and touching memory. It was also a bit unexpected. I know that certain foods and drinks are prepared like this (e.g., chicha, a fermented corn beverage), and we all know about how mama birds feed their young, but I never saw the Swedish Chef preparing food this way on the Muppets. I recall laughing out loud as we all listened to his animated and vivid descriptions of making this dish. Then he said, “You know, I have a bag of frozen cherries from last year. That tree out back had a big harvest. Why don’t I make us all some authentic cherry spit cream?” I gasped inaudibly (at least I hope it was inaudible) and my smile faded faster than a Swedish sunset in January. My mind then exploded in a torrent of nausea-inducing possibilities as I contemplated the bare-bones reality of what it would be like to eat a spoonful of this kindly old man’s mouth-pitted cherries as they floated in a pool of hot sugar water. Cherries - my favorite fruit - now seemed as appealing as a group of gross, sunburnt tourists swimming in an unclean swimming pool on a Riviera holiday. This truly felt just one step below cannibalism in terms of grossness. I quickly said, “No, no! You’ve already been far too kind to us. You just made us a huge meal and we don’t want to put you to any trouble.” He replied, “Nonsense! It won’t take long at all! I must go into the kitchen and get it going.”  Fresh sour cherries from the yard. I gasped inaudibly (at least I hoped no one could hear it) and my smile faded faster than a Swedish sunset in January. My mind then exploded in a torrent of nausea-inducing possibilities as I contemplated the bare-bones reality of what it would be like to eat a spoonful of this kindly old man’s mouth-pitted cherries as they floated in a pool of hot sugar water. The cherries seemed as appealing as the sight of a group of gross, sunburnt American tourists swimming in a pool on a Riviera holiday. This truly felt just one step below cannibalism in terms of grossness. I quickly said, “No, no! You’ve already been far too kind to us. You just made us a huge meal and we don’t want to put you to any trouble.” He replied, “Nonsense! It won’t take long at all! I must go into the kitchen and get it going.” My god. Could this really be happening? My heart sank. I looked over at the the other half of the Proper Degenerate team and didn’t see even a hint of a negative reaction. I know she has a far stronger stomach than mine, but this was really pushing it. I guess I’m on my own… I frantically tried to think of excuses. Could I be too full to eat? No, they’d want me to at least try this local delicacy. Could I be allergic to cherries? No, as they already asked about food allergies before they prepared the meal for us. Who does that!? What happened to that callous Viking spirit… ? But, these random thoughts are merely distracting me from solving this problem. I must admit that I was at a loss. I must have generated at least thirty different reasons for why I couldn’t eat these diabolical cherries, but they were all fruitless (unlike my culinary future). There was apparently NO WAY I was going to be able to avoid putting this drooly dessert into my mouth and swallowing it without being viewed as a very poor guest. These people were just too nice (damn Swedes!). I couldn’t be rude in any way to them, even if it grossed me out. So, my goalposts shifted to how I could (a) accept the fact that I am going to be eating this slobbery sweet and (b) make sure that I could do wo without throwing up, thus becoming an even worse house guest. The kindly chef then came back in the room and said “They’re boiling now. Shouldn’t be too long. Who wants a bit of cream poured on?” As I watched him taking requests, I could swear that I saw a fleck of cherry flesh dangling from his neatly cropped beard like a fishing lure. This was going to be a rough night. I internally steeled myself as best as I could for the forthcoming "dessert" and now wondered whether it would be more or less gross with the addition of cream. ‘Well, on the one hand it would make it thicker and cool it down (i.e., what’s worse? warm or cold spit? Probably the latter), but on the other hand it would at least dilute the saliva.’ I couldn’t decide. I resigned myself to this terrible way to end an otherwise wonderful evening. Then, the moment of truth arrives…. Our host brought out the spit cream and my heart quickened. It was clearly hot, as I could see steam emanating from the top of the ornate serving dish that, like everything in a Swedish kitchen, seems to be both functional and attractive. Our happy host then filled up all of our bowls with this bright red dessert that I had been obsessing about over the past hour. As he finished up the plating he said, “I’m sorry that it took so long to make. It usually only takes about 15-20 minutes, but it took me some extra time to find the cherry pitter.” Alas, I misunderstood our nice host's initial story. Essentially, if they got a bit "lazy" (i.e., if they temporarily became very Un-Swede-like), they would boil the cherries whole and spit out the pits while they were eating the dessert. Small differences can be important... *The quickest way to describe Akvavit is vodka flavored with various spices and/or herbs. Each area, and probably even town, has their own special recipe, but the most common flavors seem to be caraway or dill seed. There is another, very bitter version flavored with wormwood.  Fresh cherry "spit cream" in a fancy glass. RECIPE
Ingredients: -2.5 cups fresh or frozen cherries with the pits removed (it's up to you how you choose to do this) -5 cups water -1 cup + 2 tablespoons of table sugar -3-4 tablespoons of potato starch (more = a thicker dessert) -1-2 pinches of salt (optional) -1-2 ounces of cherry vodka (optional) Directions: -Add cherries and sugar (and salt if desired) to the water in a large enough saucepan --Slowly bring the mixture up to a slight boil. -Reduce heat as need to keep the cherries at a slow simmer, stirring occasssionally -Simmer for 20-30 minutes or until the cherries break apart -Turn off heat -Mix the potato starch with just enough water to make a smooth slurry -Add in the potato starch slurry and stir quickly to prevent lumps; continue stirring every now and then as the spit cream cools down slightly to prevent a skin from forming on the top. -Serve hot or cold with or without fresh cream Being a minimally observant human comes with some consequences. A number of basic questions come into one’s mind, sometimes unexpectedly. For instance, “What is the meaning of life?” “What, if anything, created our infinite universe?” “Why do Swedes love licorice so much?” We probably need to table answers to the first two questions for other posts, though, as the Swedish licorice one takes obvious priority. Licorice is all over Swedish grocery stores. If you throw a rock in any random one of them, you’ll probably hit something with licorice in it (however, be warned that public rock throwing is generally frowned upon by the Swedes). And, please keep in mind that we’re talking about real licorice here, not the ropey red stuff that tastes of chemical strawberries that is more common in US movie theaters. We’re focusing on the black chewy licorice that tends to polarize Americans: you either love it or hate it. Some have also found it “an acquired taste” like stinky cheese or IPA beer.  Close up of Salta Häxor Even stranger for the American palate, a good bit of Swedish licorice is salty. The salt content can be very mild – essentially a flavor enhancer – but in other candies it can be fairly dominant. There’s one brand, salta häxor (i.e., salty witches), that was probably the most intensely salted licorice ever tasted by man or beast. They look like any other black licorice bits, but the soft purple-black candies were coated in what can only be described as finely powdered salt. When you pop one in your mouth you get a nuclear detonation of salt that is soon followed by the soft sweetness of a very well-executed black licorice. To be honest, at first taste they were a bit off-putting but then became addictive. It was sort of like the experience of tasting a way-too-hot hot sauce and then deciding that you needed to keep putting it on every part of your meal. The description of salta häxor “salt for the wicked” seemed very appropriate…  A bag of "Salt for the Wicked" Interestingly, the salt is a bit different from normal table salt. It’s called ammonium chloride and is, in general, more potent. Ammonium chloride was apparently even mixed with licorice root in earlier times as a medicine for coughs. As a warning, though, too much ammonium chloride can be a bad thing. If can cause high blood pressure and may even have a decalcifying effect on bones. But, in small quantities, it is very popular in Scandinavian treats. But licorice isn’t just limited to candies in Sweden. One of the best things we found there were lakrits dates (i.e., licorice dates). These are normal pitted medjool dates coated with a very fine dusting of licorice powder. Yes, we realize this may sound strange, but you should give them a try. They are even more addictive than regular licorice candies, and probably a lot better for you, too. These things are not just found in Sweden, either. You can buy them in Iceland, too. But back to this all-important question… why do the Swedes love licorice so much. In order to get answers, we found an unlikely source: Scandinavian Vogue magazine. According to their interesting article on the topic, the Swedes and other Scandis had a long tradition of salting food in order to preserve it through those long, cold, and dark winter months that happen when you live so far up north. So, in a sense, the ancestors of current Swedes were no stranger to intensely salted food. Further, the Vogue article states that a Scandinavian staple, pickled herring, also has this strange mixture of salty and sweet. One of us has never tasted pickled herring, and the other finds this description of the preserved fish a bit “off”, so we may need some other opinions to properly sus this out.
Regardless, if you don’t live in Sweden, you can order some lakrits from a number of online sources. You could even make your own lakrits dates. Just get a bunch of fresh, shiny looking medjools and dust them with lakrits powder which you can buy in little jars online. Be careful adding any ammonium chloride, though.
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