We are entering the final week of increasing darkness, and come next Thursday, the sunset will be incrementally later each day and the daylight will therefore be just a little bit longer. I can still remember coming out of a 3 o’clock class my first semester of college in Maine and feeling both worried and confused that it was dark. Alas, I quickly learned that it was quite normal and was going to be that way for a challengingly long portion of Maine’s wintry months. The solstice is a welcome marker of the longed-for reversal of the darkening process. On Dec. 21, the official solstice, the sun stands still, according to the Latin roots of the word — sol means sun and sistere means to stand still. At this point, in the northern hemisphere, the Earth is tilted the farthest distance away from the sun. But from this point forward, it will begin to shift back a little closer each day.

The solstice also officially marks the beginning of winter, a season that I love but can take a little getting used to. However, the impending decrease in temperatures feels balanced out by the fact that, every day going forward, there will be little increase in daylight. One of my favorite traditions around this time of year is the Scandinavian practice known as hygge. It does not rhyme with Miss Piggy, although she does sing the best part of the Muppets’ rendition of the “Twelve Days of Christmas,” but is instead pronounced “hoo-guh” — a sort of exaggerated version of “hug,” which embodies part of the tradition’s essence. Hygge was introduced to me by a good friend whose family is Swedish. It is the practice of gathering together with friends to do cozy things together in the dark parts of winter. It includes lots of candles and lots of shared, warm foods.

While Maine is not exactly geographically close to Scandinavia, the two parts of the world are connected by a shared culture around and appreciation for good seafood. The waters of the Baltic and North Seas are similarly clear and cold as those that touch the Maine coast. For that reason, we share some of the same species of seafood harvested from those waters — species like cod, haddock and herring, for example.

Some of the traditional dishes served as a part of hygge gatherings are seafood dishes that feature these species. For example, frikadeller, which are codfish cakes, are often served with lemon and dill tartar-style sauce. Another common dish is fiskesuppe (fish soup). I like this one because it centers on a homemade fish stock that is made by boiling the fish carcass, which is an excellent way to get rich flavor and also make use of every last bit of protein on that fish. It can also include clams and langoustines, a lobster-like crustacean, along with root vegetables and cream, and infused with saffron, which gives it a sunny color.

For those looking for something really traditional, and who are also feeling brave, there is surströmming. “Sur” refers to the fish being soured or fermented. This recipe starts with whole Baltic herring that are salted and then left to for about a month before being put into cans. The lactic acid in the fish’s spine causes the fish to ferment. The fermentation process doesn’t end when the herring is tinned, however, which results in a bulging tin if the fish isn’t eaten soon enough. You can only imagine the smells that emerge when a can is opened, hence the tradition of eating surströmming outside whenever possible. Apparently, the best way to prepare it is by opening the can in a bucket of water so that you can rinse it first. Then, you gut it and serve it on buttered tunnbröd, a Swedish sweet bread, topped with sliced potatoes, onions and almonds. People sometimes throw surströmmingsskiva (herring parties) to brave what has become known as the “stinky fish challenge” together. There are some amusing videos of this on YouTube that provide good humor on a dark, chilly December evening.

So, in this last week of increasing darkness, perhaps a little hygge is in order to get through to the growing light that lay ahead. It turns out that surströmmingsskiva don’t typically happen until August anyway, so you don’t even have to include that one in honoring hygge’s fishy components.

Susan Olcott is the director of operations at Maine Coast Fishermen’s Association.

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