Why I started Madam Budeie
(And why my waffles are sometimes lopsided)

Somewhere between a soggy ferry ride in Lofoten and a surprisingly emotional moment over a jar of homemade rømmegrøt (could be the menopause…), it hit me: Norway is delicious. And I don’t just mean the food—though, let’s be honest, a warm svele on a windy dock could fix almost anything—but the stories, the smells, the people, the silence, and that peculiar joy of finding a lone cloudberry like it’s a nugget of Viking gold.

I’ve travelled this lanky country from top to toe—fjord to forest—eating my way through traditions I didn’t even know I belonged to. Along the way, I realized something: we’re all sprinting through our days, elbows deep in inboxes and reheated dinners, while the real treasures—wild herbs, foraged berries, forgotten recipes—are sitting quietly right outside our front doors (ok, sometimes we need to walk a bit..). Not to forget the magic tucked in a dusty cookbook. Or folded in the written note and memory of someone’s grandmother. 

And speaking of mothers and cooking: My mum is the kind of woman that don’t measure flour—she feel it. She know how to stretch a pot of stew to feed twelve and still leave enough for anyone who “needs take-away” the next days. She passes on little nuggets of wisdom: stir with the pot, not against it; always use spice and always, always put the butter out early.

Here’s my confession: I’m not actually that amazing in the kitchen. My fishballs look confused. My waffles are often shaped like abstract art. But what I am good at (I think..) is telling stories. And I care deeply about clean, honest food. Like everyone else the last years. And living in Norway I love all 4 seasons, and eating with the seasons. And this blog will be about making meals that tell a story—even if that story includes accidentally setting off the smoke alarm.

So I started Madam Budeie to celebrate the cozy chaos of Norwegian food culture. To share old recipes, yes, but also to look at them with new eyes. Maybe we use a bit less sugar. Maybe we roast root vegetables instead of boiling them into oblivion. Maybe we learn to forage something wilder than our thoughts.

Most of all, I wanted to build a space where food isn’t just something we consume—it’s something that connects. Connects us to our roots, to each other, and to a quieter, kinder way of living.

So welcome to Madam Budeie: From Fjord to Fork. 

Come for the folklore, stay for the slightly lopsided waffles.
This little corner of the internet is your gentle reminder to breathe deep, stir slowly, and never underestimate the humble potato — it’s seen things.

Sure, I love a cheeky pizza night or a good Coq-au-vin (that’s the madam in me).
But here, we’re stirring the soup pot of Norwegian heritage — one tale, one taste, and one buttered flatbrød at a time.
Pull up a chair. There’s always room for one more at the table.

By yours truly,

Madam Budeie-in-Chief

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Siri

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