Commentator Aaron Freeman loves to use dinner parties as a way to check out foreign cultures. Recently, he decided to cook and eat his way to Scandinavia with a little lutefisk.
MICHELE NORRIS, host: Google maps may be a great tool, but you don't necessarily need it or any      map at all to explore the world.  Commentator Aaron Freeman loves to use      dinner parties as a way to check out foreign cultures.  With a quick trip      to one of the many ethnic grocery stores in Chicago, he can begin a      journey to spicy India or steamy Morocco or to somewhere where the      weather is colder and the food is, well, not exactly as he expected.</s>AARON FREEMAN: I passed the lutefisk test.  We decided to have a Scandanavian-themed      dinner party.  I figured it was time to check out the chitlins of      Scandinavia, the gefilte fish of the Fins, the haggis of the frozen      north, lutefisk.  Lutefisk is made by taking dried fish, usually cod,      then reviving it in a solution of potash water and lye.  I drove to      Chicago's Scandinavian neighborhood, Andersonville, and stepped into      Wickstrom's Gourmet Foods.  It's a little bit of Stockholm in the      inner-city.</s>AARON FREEMAN: First, I did some browsing, grabbed a bottle of Glogg, a sort of      Scandinavian hot sangria, a jar of lingenberries, picked up some herrings      in wine sauce, but I was on a mission from Oden(ph).  I walked up to a      gray-haired Nordic-looking guy with a big smile and a name tag that said      Ingomar(ph).  I asked in my best Swedish accent `You all got some      lutefisk?'  `Yah,' said Ingomar, `we got excellent lutefisk.  Fresh,      too.'  Now fresh is an ironic term for fish that might well have been      caught the last time the Minnesota Vikings won the Super Bowl, but there      in the rear of the store floating in an aluminum tub of water was the      lutefisk.  It looked the ghost of a fish, deathly pale, suspended in      water with white wisps drifting off its alabaster corpse.  My thought,      `This fish don't need a chef.  It needs an exorcist.'</s>AARON FREEMAN: Back home I explained to our guests that the treat of the evening was      rotted fish soaked in poison.  They were amazed.  Now I was prepared for      a flavor that would inspire me to turn into an ancient Nordic warrior, a      berserker.  I was ready for an urge to get naked and attack Norway or at      least a strong desire to manufacture sensible cars.  But, in truth, the      lutefisk tasted like ghost fish, as in nothing at all.  But for the      mustard sauce, there was no flavor.  It was gooey white rice but not so      spicy.  The Japanese say you add seven days to your life each time you      try a new food.  But for the sheer overcoming of terror and disgust, I      think my guests and I deserve at least an extra two weeks of living for      sampling lutefisk.</s>MICHELE NORRIS, host: Aaron Freeman, writer and performer.  He lives in Chicago, and      tomorrow night, he's trying out the cuisine of the Philippines.</s>ROBERT SIEGEL (Host): You're listening to ALL THINGS CONSIDERED from NPR      News.