The Legend

was born over 1200 years ago . . .

in about 772 A.D.

. . . on a Thursday (Thor’s day).

A mighty storm had battered the Viking world for 3 days and 3 nights. At its heart, a shield maiden gave birth to a baby boy.
The delighted father saw how his son shook his tiny fists at the thunder and cried…
“He shall be Thorvald,
named for the ‘Power of Thor’
and he shall perform mighty deeds!”.
This did not go unnoticed by the gods.
Unfortunately, as Thorvald grew he showed little sign of living up to his name. When others displayed the spoils of their raids he just laughed and said:
“There are greater treasures to be had than
wooden cups and tarnished plates.”
At last his father thrust him from the house warning him not to return without a worthy prize.
For three long years Thorvald’s mother watched for her son’s return. Then, one day, he sauntered over the hill with a grin upon his face.
Under one arm was a ewe of purest white, under the other a noble ram with curled horns.
No such beasts were to be found on earth!
He had somehow raided the divine flock of Asgard!
(But, that is another tale.)
The villagers trembled when Thor appeared, hot on his heels. However, the god laughed, delighted by his namesake’s cheekiness, and set the young Viking a test.
If Thorvald could make a yoghurt that was
rich enough,
creamy enough and
good enough
for the halls of Valhalla itself…
he could keep the sheep he’d
stolen from the gods.
And of course that is exactly what Thorvald did.
For he had gatecrashed the feasts of the gods and spied out their secrets. Besides, he had a trick or two of his own.
He truly lived up to his name and his recipes have since become legend…