Norwegian Bacalao Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Salted fish, a tale so grand,
From Norway's shores to sunlit land.
Dried cod it was, sent south with care,
To Spanish sun, and warmer air.

Bacalao, so white and strong,
A clipfish story, told along.
Northern roots, a taste so keen,
Then new days came, a different scene.

Salty need, across the sea,
For hungry hearts, a remedy.
Spices came, from lands afar,
A taste of sun, beneath each star.

Olive oil, a fragrant pour,
Chili's bite, and something more.
Tomatoes red, a vibrant hue,
A simmered dream, forever true.

Old Norway knew, a way to blend,
Bacalao stew, until the end.
First in books, of ages past,
Southern flavors, meant to last.

No garlic then, a shallot's grace,
A different taste, in time and space.
But history's heart, still beats so clear,
Bacalao's love, is always here.

T.M Solvang