\u201cOkay, okay. You want traditional Jewish, you got it.\u201d Hutch held up both hands in surrender, \u201cGuess I\u2019ll give the bacon to the Dobeys. I made some applesauce, but if you want sour cream -\u201d<\/p>\n
Starsky\u2019s eyes and taste buds lit up. \u201cBacon? You make raggymops with bacon?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRaggmunk. Yeah, Maja used salt pork, along with her ligonberry jam, but it’s easier to find thick cut bacon. Karen sent me some jam she made from Maja\u2019s recipe and I guess it got me a little nostalgic.\u201d He removed a foil cover from a platter, revealing a mouth watering heap of perfectly cooked bacon, \u201cBut since this is treif \u2013 too bad\u201d he sighed, \u201cand I was going to fry them in butter and the bacon drippings, nice and brown crispy, just like Maja did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWait, is this a joke? You? Cooking in butter and bacon grease and eating fried foods?\u201d the brunette\u2019s eyes narrowed in suspicion and he made a show of looking around. \u201cOkay, where\u2019s the hidden camera and Alan Funt? Or should I check your greenhouse for a spacepeople pod?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo tricks or space aliens.\u201d Hutch began stirring the potato-onion shreds into the batter \u201cLike I said, just a little nostalgia. So enjoy it before I come to my senses and feed you tofu and wheat germ pancakes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Starsky gave a mock shudder, \u201cDon\u2019t make sick jokes like that, not while you\u2019re cooking our new tradition of latke-raggmumps!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRaggmunk.\u201d Hutch pronounced slowly, then noticed what was going on behind his back, \u201cStarsky!\u201d But it was too late, the pilfered slice of bacon was gone.<\/p>\n
The unrepentant thief swallowed, then grinned. \u201cYou know, I like this idea. Old family traditions brought together. A little Jewish, a little Swedish\/Norwegish, an all-American frying pan!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s all-American melting pot.\u201d Hutch automatically corrected.<\/p>\n
Starsky pointed to the large skillet on the front burner, \u201cLooks like a frying pan to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rather than strangle the smirking imp, Hutch made shooing motions. \u201cOutta my kitchen!\u201d<\/p>\n
Starsky swiped another slice of bacon and headed towards the couch. Hutch started ladling batter into the hot pan, the smell of crisping potatoes bringing back pleasant memories. Maja had sung to them as she cooked, mostly tunes from the radio or hymns. Searching for something appropriate, he started singing the first thing that popped into his head:<\/p>\n
R!<\/em> Doo-doo-doo-dah-dee-ah-dah<\/em> Sniff\u2026 sniff\u2026 snniifff. \u201cNot enough onions. (sniff sniff). What else is that smell?\u201d Hutch sighed at the curly head imposed between him and his work. He elbowed Starsky out of the way, \u201cAs for your last question, don\u2019t feed me … Continue reading
\nI say R-A<\/em>
\nR-A-G<\/em>
\nR-A-G-G<\/em>
\nRag<\/em>
\nR-a-g-g M-U-N-K<\/em>
\nRagg – Munk!<\/em><\/p>\n
\nRagg \u2013 Munk!<\/em><\/p>\n![](\"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2017\/calendar\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/12\/raggmunk.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"