There still are. My late mother-in-law was a Yooper who laced every sentence with 'eh.' My son would go visit his grandparents in Ann Arbor each summer, and then they would caravan back to the greatgrandma's farm in the UP for a few weeks.
The folks up there are Finnish Apostolic Lutheran w/a low tolerance for a lot of worldliness like drinking and card playing, tho getting the whole family naked in the sauna is not a problem.
These people haven't met a food product that can't be improved by adding butter or cheese. When my son and I came up for my husband's funeral, the first thing my MIL did was give us a bag of cheese to take back to the hotel. : ) To heck w/the funeral - let's eat some cheese.
Was impressed by ... how a Pasty (PAH-sty) sticks to one's ribs.
For years my late husband wanted to start making pasties on a commercial basis (starting in my kitchen, of course). He thought he would be bringing civilization to the east coast. Between that and trying to get me to make some Scandinavian cheese his grandma used to make, we had some interesting arguments our first years of marriage.
The first time I tried to make pasties (from my non-cooking M-I-L's recipe, save me), I mixed up the potatoes and the hamburger, and it seemed so bland ... so I added whole-kernel corn, and chili powder, and garlic.
You'd've thought I put nails in the durn things. He cou;dn't wait to get back up there and get one of the authentic ones! And poured ketchup all over it!