I am descended from Vikings, and I try to bring that wild-eyed berserkergang ferocity to blogging. But have you ever seen Swedes cook?
YEEEEAAAAAH! That’s the way to do it. You should have seen me this morning, when I was preparing the vegetable soup that will be simmering all day for our dinner here (yeah, it’s a vegetarian soup. What can I say? I’m only half Scandinavian. The blood has been thinned with that of those domesticated English and Irish and Scots). I was flinging the big knives around viciously, and I’ll tell you, their own mothers wouldn’t recognize the bodies of those tubers and onions and whatevers when I was done with them.
And while you tremble in fear at the fury of the Northmen, keep this in mind: these are the Swedes. The Norwegian edition would violate the Youtube terms of service, and would probably feature much more herring mayhem.
(I probably shouldn’t have said that. If the Swedes hear of it, it will stir their competitive instincts, and they’ll strive to outdo even the hypothetical Norwegians, and then…Ragnarök.)