tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72281715078992127392024-03-13T03:03:36.648-07:00Svacina Projectfamily + history + food = meDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-59937882587409839122022-05-05T11:58:00.000-07:002022-05-05T11:58:36.466-07:00Buttermilk Pie<p><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNz5FmSflr_AY46jwcGmt2eZ6nNbMZ677sGeNrXZfkvTmAqm4LMT_fCLIq_pyquTWoDhZs8fRg2VWnIlxGCcmKxijAKUJspdaRr-ikEN2R6uFMdNG2e8iu6szEDRiIqPTkJh2ApynXFUTD7vycqfEyhqz0WLSlS_oHf4amikcvsBGq3OQDf36Csruszg/s320/IMG_0056.JPG" width="240" /></span><span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41); color: #292929;">I did not grow up eating buttermilk pie, but have seen it consistently (</span></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41); color: #292929; font-family: times;">always passed up until now) </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41); color: #292929; font-family: times;">at school bake sales and on family reunion dessert tables or as one of many different gifted pies to teachers at my son's school around Thanksgiving. It is one of those classic Southe</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292929;"><span style="font-family: times;">rn dishes that Texas Czechs have embraced and recipes for it are included in many community cookbooks. I have actually seen old recipes written by Czech-speaking ladies that spelled the word pie phonetically (in Czech) as paj. </span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: times;">From TasteAtlas.com, I read "</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;"><span style="color: #292929;">The origins of this pie date back to the Depression and WWII, when women used pantry staples and what they had on hand." Of course, living in an apartment in suburban Austin, I never have buttermilk "on hand", but I do use it for some dishes (biscuits, pancakes, marinating fried chicken) after which I may have some leftover. What to do with extra buttermilk? Make pie. </span></span></span></p><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #292929;">The recipe I used is from Mrs. Joe F. Blinka, Jr. included in a cookbook called <i>Frenstat's Favorites</i>, compiled by the altar <span style="caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41);">society</span> of Our Lady of the Holy Rosary Catholic Church in Frenstat, Texas. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #292929;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7V78mKqggbE1MVjiG-y4W_YYiOwno5JTLATA5ty8Y5M0VKAu-McuUUfv0RZqnAnvI_sxYu8gY5iuWkuTzo2pJlvnbUZEsHF-6emE4dmMUuBlsXEw-ho4ZIDnVjEFv7ZDOAtUa5JVYn_TY7vc0NW7WP5jDAZzgOomKR4vJPag4a8tryT7Es72E8ObbLQ/w400-h300/Buttermilk%20Pie%20Recipe.JPG" width="400" /></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #292929;">Frenstat is an unincorporated community in Burleson County, Texas. My great grandparents John and Anna (Marek) Orsak (pictured below) were married in </span></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41); color: #292929;">Holy Rosary Catholic </span><span style="color: #292929;">Church and my grandfather, Joseph Anthony Orsak, was born in Frenstat, which was named by the Czech people that settled it for the town of </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); color: #202122;">Frenštát pod Radhoštěm</span><span style="color: #292929;"> in Moravia. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5lCGDAAkf5G6t13pTIKs5VaN9QMkc-_kdtBVMbo0zz0wfdCX8G75nOHqmLDWjoDYnyKgelC_jsBdqsmdgG_ARzmRjgpeHNqPk4gk2nGk_nzRhAeYBcTyQMiYlMbAD67O-fDJ2EyEq8IsgmqBFVdRRGjmLTslyrPRD8jV2Ykepqmf1JDQ1zYeCZVdgqw/s3333/John_Anna_Orsak_1947.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3333" data-original-width="1874" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5lCGDAAkf5G6t13pTIKs5VaN9QMkc-_kdtBVMbo0zz0wfdCX8G75nOHqmLDWjoDYnyKgelC_jsBdqsmdgG_ARzmRjgpeHNqPk4gk2nGk_nzRhAeYBcTyQMiYlMbAD67O-fDJ2EyEq8IsgmqBFVdRRGjmLTslyrPRD8jV2Ykepqmf1JDQ1zYeCZVdgqw/s320/John_Anna_Orsak_1947.jpg" width="180" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>My great grandparents in 1947.</i></span></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41); color: #292929; font-family: times;">I made the pie for my father in Houston. On many Sundays since he moved </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41); color: #292929; font-family: times;">into assisted living, w</span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41); color: #292929; font-family: times;">e pick him up for </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41); color: #292929; font-family: times;">lunch at my sister's house </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41); color: #292929; font-family: times;">very nearby. He</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #292929; font-family: times;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(41, 41, 41);"> has an irrepressible sweet tooth and says things like "I need something sweet" like a parched person would say they needed water. He thought the pie was delicious, of course. </span></span></span><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292929; font-family: times;">I am not a fan of overly sweet desserts, so decided to pair it with canned peaches that my brother and I put up last summer. A spoonful of sweet-tart sliced peaches on the side and a cup of coffee helped</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #292929; font-family: times;"> cut though the richness. </span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: times;">The recipe worked perfectly in a store-bought, deep-dish pie crust with no need for alterations (except a homemade pie crust, I think, next time.) </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;">The pie bakes to a lovely golden brown, almost like creme brûlée. The inside is creamy, but make sure you leave the pie in the oven long enough to get very brown and then cool completely or it will be a puddle of pie.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0V2ZZscSci_ns1CyOpdapn61poE2Gkv8AGV1o8fpBtehQFFatLooFqHTQ-awB3igPh1mJiK6OK--Ke1nrAPTJjsmW5Z4iEO8d3Gqvtu5mGc6BjL3wulrxvFE_IUycifNbfst3_xVvMokfN8AfjjI_-VGDVIV-Q3d5WPXoVGD_ssVFgRrc5URrxRgT4A/s320/IMG_0043.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before baking.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;"></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRpLMtL8cDNSUhO6XSMyRn5iKd1_cl3MjQaazCQ_AU0XU0Wqr6Q2OLp6Y5douZAzjZeRvZrJPEgHIEIm08oFeouQwAv-uJaqyeMIXu-RLuV2yMHBS1dK0to8QvJftOQlmaA-G5orLozHSIJ0xhGpa2igAJlDyppkxKZtalq74Oh0k1x4Nr_bTUGr-r8w/s320/IMG_0055.jpg" style="font-family: times; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;" width="240" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After baking. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;"></span></div><p></p>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-56302801756818680312022-04-19T18:18:00.003-07:002022-04-19T18:18:32.636-07:00Easter Leftovers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJVLwvJUi33JKwtUj3e8Ifh3WBvEkpmN7VNA8DHxzJkuN9wXagcjJonACClLu5SI0_wUi5D1wF1y_AbpaDa_59gH71CgdAsgAoFoA9E70BQaRNy_YpHN--fd0s7DjiVbetdPM8rODv9pDwYYE7v17vT7UTr7QmBtrKpANpIUc-ir5uyBZlAIwKrvVJtQ/s4032/IMG_3702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJVLwvJUi33JKwtUj3e8Ifh3WBvEkpmN7VNA8DHxzJkuN9wXagcjJonACClLu5SI0_wUi5D1wF1y_AbpaDa_59gH71CgdAsgAoFoA9E70BQaRNy_YpHN--fd0s7DjiVbetdPM8rODv9pDwYYE7v17vT7UTr7QmBtrKpANpIUc-ir5uyBZlAIwKrvVJtQ/w300-h400/IMG_3702.jpg" title="My gorgeous sister holding court in her gorgeous dining room." width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>My gorgeous sister holding Easter court in her gorgeous dining room, 2022.</i> </p><p>Holiday meals at my sister's house yield ample leftovers to experiment with and our gathering for Easter last Sunday was no exception. We devour the plentiful appetizers, eat meager lunch plates, and then I fill up multiple Tupperware dishes of leftovers. Though there were 11 adults and five teenagers, I came home with ham and the ham hock, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, boiled eggs, most of the mascarpone torta appetizer I made, and most of the strawberry tartlets I made. We were all too stuffed from lunch to eat the three desserts that were there. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhZp6-2f5oSZKGBCQrOORDqM5G9p7q2ieEBuhaWw5lyhTL6Tq-N1sca5sOEUkypEAA2TBtyaex6uodcjOb4vkmdGNSvs8pmvBBgrbAyResKsuirdbSc830mG0d9ii0KGZBCCQPkpIL359-c_p63VKeD3OybNsTcPzjeVG0Uu76VaTqEDkt8Xt_qGH6Q/s4032/IMG_0163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhZp6-2f5oSZKGBCQrOORDqM5G9p7q2ieEBuhaWw5lyhTL6Tq-N1sca5sOEUkypEAA2TBtyaex6uodcjOb4vkmdGNSvs8pmvBBgrbAyResKsuirdbSc830mG0d9ii0KGZBCCQPkpIL359-c_p63VKeD3OybNsTcPzjeVG0Uu76VaTqEDkt8Xt_qGH6Q/s320/IMG_0163.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>My mom's recipe for Strawberry Devonshire Tart prepared as individual tartlets. </i></p><p>I love turning leftovers into other dishes, stretching the work I did into another meal while stretching my culinary creativity muscles so we don't eat the same dish over and over. Like so many other people this week, I will make egg salad or deviled eggs from the Easter eggs my brother and I dyed. The ham will be fried up for breakfast, chopped and added to lentils, or ground for ham salad. I'll make red beans and rice with the ham hock. With guilt, I ate strawberry tartlets for breakfast.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9p_Xl2CuN9G-u2D6s5jpM_txzSLNoNCDKCvIquV6tJpmQ9Rsn1GACUOLo5GwI5XRe6RQ9uXJsglFzPMTkiCu12uQURVcK8l4Q4Ul614X-HCtXn7b3WFWTioT_NlV66CpM3kpAlBxowQNFVsxViYrbw6tUkR0OIfKqRDlxKWgYOMhc8ANNaFEMKlW8A/s4032/IMG_0153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9p_Xl2CuN9G-u2D6s5jpM_txzSLNoNCDKCvIquV6tJpmQ9Rsn1GACUOLo5GwI5XRe6RQ9uXJsglFzPMTkiCu12uQURVcK8l4Q4Ul614X-HCtXn7b3WFWTioT_NlV66CpM3kpAlBxowQNFVsxViYrbw6tUkR0OIfKqRDlxKWgYOMhc8ANNaFEMKlW8A/s320/IMG_0153.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mashed potatoes are a great leftover to have. They can be the base for a creamy potato soup, layered into mashed potato bowls or shepherd's pie, formed into potato croquettes, or tonight for dinner, I used them for potato pancakes. The recipe is from the <i>Travis-Williamson Counties Czech Heritage Cookbook </i>(1996), which is chock full of traditional Texas-Czech recipes. This dish is from the late Dorothy Bohac, a woman with a strong personality who got things done. I knew her from the early 1990s as the Travis-Williamson County Chapter of the Czech Heritage Society was forming. Her recipe starts with raw potatoes which she boiled and seasoned, but starting with leftover mashed potatoes makes dinner pull together so quickly. I would even recommend making extra mashed potatoes to be able to fry these the next day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3U2n3WKMR9_h-Q_QpCUtZHxKa_H3BjIU7POhvlPyndehmqM070PGTQUaQRtYeDgCtsvSGgDMzewnzUHM6JZ5MrV6BWfOdi5emY80bISrS9RQ8BMdveYIrEW42gd0nj4JO954OfQBtIsOHUUdvPTVSkbwO7-kevOk_xPLseuiv6KG3__ZGPrue4WFTYg/s3030/IMG_0173.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3030" data-original-width="3019" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3U2n3WKMR9_h-Q_QpCUtZHxKa_H3BjIU7POhvlPyndehmqM070PGTQUaQRtYeDgCtsvSGgDMzewnzUHM6JZ5MrV6BWfOdi5emY80bISrS9RQ8BMdveYIrEW42gd0nj4JO954OfQBtIsOHUUdvPTVSkbwO7-kevOk_xPLseuiv6KG3__ZGPrue4WFTYg/w399-h400/IMG_0173.jpg" width="399" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But calling the little fried rounds "pancakes" is misleading. I'd call them "patties" since the softness of the potatoes doesn't allow for a pancake-sized round. (They'd fall apart.) I used a deep round tablespoon to scoop the seasoned mashed potatoes into a ball, then flattened the ball to a patty about 2 1/2" in diameter in my hand. Like all fried foods, the patties are best straight out of the oil, so use a large frying pan to fry as many as you can at once. The recipe includes a variation, adding minced onion, garlic cloves, caraway seeds, and marjoram, which would all be tasty, either together or individually just to changed things up slightly every time you made these. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Like with chicken nuggets, the sauce you dip the patties in is a matter of personal preference. My son and I ate them with "Truff Stuff" Truffle Aioli from Hopdoddy (an Austin-based hamburger restaurant.) If I'd had more time, I'd have made any number of Czech "gravies" from scratch to dip them in -- sauerkraut gravy, garlic gravy, tomato gravy, dill gravy -- which are commonly poured over boiled potatoes or served with pork. Potato patties make a great main for a meatless meal, too. I served them with my brother, Jason's (leftover) jalapeño creamed corn from Easter and the old standby of cucumber-tomato-red onion salad with a sour cream dressing. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpvS_iC7ugMynq-jsX7EB8xaHY13U3OOkDz8psPguYDEHL3viBGUQJQqQQdIbhxWkQnNt7FlWkbeiT3EwvwyI0bUjAUcoesk1Vm2cnrKe0qadxknN27dUpUkhUKNDm99GwwVKgu1myvAp_y2qE7Emp0HhRoVVYiG8M01vgo_G4Lhw4jZ1Vr8Vj4y9xw/s4032/IMG_0172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpvS_iC7ugMynq-jsX7EB8xaHY13U3OOkDz8psPguYDEHL3viBGUQJQqQQdIbhxWkQnNt7FlWkbeiT3EwvwyI0bUjAUcoesk1Vm2cnrKe0qadxknN27dUpUkhUKNDm99GwwVKgu1myvAp_y2qE7Emp0HhRoVVYiG8M01vgo_G4Lhw4jZ1Vr8Vj4y9xw/w400-h300/IMG_0172.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I fried more than we could eat, so now I have leftover leftovers for tomorrow morning. Waste not, want not. I'll rewarm them with a fried egg and ham on the side for my son's breakfast. </div><p></p>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-4344269426540413682020-07-07T11:02:00.001-07:002020-07-07T14:32:52.382-07:00The George and Anita Kallus House<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo by Dougal Cormie</span></td></tr>
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“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” </div>
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-William Faulkner </div>
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On the west side of Hallettsville in Lavaca County, there’s a large, white house on Highway Alt. 90 that’s been vacant since 2010. It’s my maternal grandparents’ house and my grandmother (our Datu) lived there for over 70 years. (Her husband died in 1979.) My mother (born in 1947) and all her siblings were brought home from the hospital to that house, except my Uncle A. J., who was born inside in June of 1940, when the Lavaca River rose so high, my grandparents couldn’t get to the hospital. <br />
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Though my grandmother died in 2012, the family still owns the house and has been gathering there ever since. As a complete group, we’ve gotten together only once a year, if that, but smaller groups of us have met there for Easter, for my brother’s 40th birthday, to attend various events in Hallettsville, to retreat from our busy lives for a weekend, or just to visit with each other. In 2019, we held our first-ever Kallus reunion there, throwing a family chili cook-off as a way to feed everyone over the busy weekend of catching up with each other. <br />
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In the house’s heyday, before great grandchildren were born, there were at least 30 to 40 of us for a sit down meal for Christmas, at tables lined up down the center of the den. Adult couples got the bedrooms when we slept over and we children would sleep on pallets end to end in the living room. At any one time, there might be beer drinking on the back porch, children getting into trouble in the workshop, teenagers sequestered in the bedrooms in private conversations, women cleaning up in the kitchen while men played a game of taroky in the living room, and people watching a football game playing on TV in the den. These scenes repeated themselves with variations for Easter, when family visited for a reunion or a local wedding or a cookoff, my grandmother’s birthday, maybe July 4th. <br />
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The house, for me, is the quintessential idea of home. In my dreams, it often stands in as generic “house” or “home”. There is a simultaneous feeling of comfort and sadness being there since my grandmother passed. I know the pattern of the cracks in the sheetrock in a particular room, the sound of the traffic on Alt. 90 whooshing right past the front of the house, the musty smell of the walk-in pantry. Most knick-knacks have been distributed to grandchildren or donated to charity, but some are still sitting in their place since I was child, or for so long that it seems like since I was a child. Each of the five bedrooms has a name… Datu and PawPaw’s Room, the Nursery, Bobby’s Room, the Piano Room, and the Back Bedroom. I like to sleep in the nursery, so named because it does indeed have a baby bed in it, but also a mid-century modern bedroom suite with a full-sized bed. It is the room closest to my grandparents’ bedroom and in which most toys were kept for grandchildren and great grandchildren visiting. <br />
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By far my favorite room, however, is the kitchen. It is huge, accommodating much hugging and kissing and visiting and dogs and running children while also allowing for cooking great quantities of food. More memories have been made there than in any other room in the house. The room, and it’s breakfast table seating 8, has hosted Scrabble games and heated political discussions, tearful confessions, birthday gatherings, coffee the morning of my mother’s funeral and a surreal but heartfelt birthday dinner for my father the night before, much drinking, the hatching of grand plans, breastfeeding babies, hours of drawing and coloring, late night confessions, and recipe fails and successes. And that’s just on my own visits there. The memory of my grandmother and a feeling of comfort linger over these activities like the smell of a cake in the kitchen after it’s been carted off to a family reunion. The cake is gone, but you have the sense that if you opened the oven, it would still be there. My grandmother did not die in the house, so it is not her ghost there. She LIVED in the house, so in a more powerful way, her presence is still there.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DXNuOgPDwD4/XwS3Fz3sNkI/AAAAAAAAHMM/PMnVma_qkgkt-VZWauOg_fiCCdIejbgpgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_6789%2Bcopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DXNuOgPDwD4/XwS3Fz3sNkI/AAAAAAAAHMM/PMnVma_qkgkt-VZWauOg_fiCCdIejbgpgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_6789%2Bcopy.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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As a family, we perpetuate this feeling. There is a small chalkboard near the back door, where cousins who visit now write notes to Datu thanking her for the hospitality of the house. And when we’re busy cooking, we use phrases like “I wonder if Datu has…” or “I wonder where Datu keeps…” meaning “I wonder if there is XX in the house right now.” The house embodies her spirit of nurturing, love, and constancy. Without fail, I will see a “redbird” (as my grandmother called cardinals) in the backyard when I’m there, perching in the huge pecan tree to see who’s visiting, and I cannot help but think of the folk belief about cardinals carrying the souls of dead loved ones. My own mother passed last year and for her, the house seemed like a security blanket. Being there was a way for her to be close to her own mother as my mother battled cancer. <br />
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Though meals at the house now are certainly not the same as they were decades ago, we have consciously carried on food-related traditions that honor my grandparents. We might prepare food there to take to the annual Morkovsky reunion at the local Knights of Columbus Hall. We meet annually for a Christmas gathering during which we eat foods that have been traditional in our family for the holiday for 100 years. The house acts as a base of sorts, too, to stage canning efforts from local produce, and winemaking efforts from the grapes growing next to the barn behind the house. A few times, I’ve combed through and cooked dishes from my grandmother’s mass of recipes collected over 70 years. She passed when she was 96 and lived in the house from 1937 until maybe two years before she died. I marvel at how many tens of thousands of meals she prepared in that kitchen. Seventy years times 365 days times three meals a day is 76,650 meals. There are still recipes taped inside cabinet doors for staple dishes my grandmother relied on to feed a husband, eight children, their children, and their children, not to mention friends, other family members, local priests, her children’s friends, etc.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ccZnQdJzaIY/XwS3d-dfhwI/AAAAAAAAHMc/Zdbj-svFcpIHF7aoPGrIvoCEN8YNJToBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_9669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ccZnQdJzaIY/XwS3d-dfhwI/AAAAAAAAHMc/Zdbj-svFcpIHF7aoPGrIvoCEN8YNJToBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_9669.JPG" width="265" /></a>I don’t know how much longer our family will own the house and have it at which to gather, so I try to cherish my time there, like I know my mother did. Our second annual Kallus Reunion and Chili Cookoff scheduled for July 2020 was cancelled due to the Covid-19 pandemic. But on my last visit to the house, I put up garlic dill pickles, helped my brother bottle wine he’d had fermenting there, and baked a lemon pound cake my grandmother submitted to a Catholic Daughters of America cookbook I found in her kitchen called “Favorite Recipes” (Court Sacred Heart No. 797, Hallettsville, TX). Recipe below.<br />
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In the mornings when I’m there, I’m up before my children. I open the side door and the living room blinds to let light in. I shuffle around the kitchen in my robe making coffee or unloading the dishwasher, thinking about my mother shuffling around the kitchen in her robe before I got up, thinking about her mother shuffling around the kitchen in her housecoat before everyone else got up. Visits to my Kallus grandparents’ house have changed dramatically since I was a child, but they keep nourishing my soul in different ways. I continue to make memories of new gatherings there, surrounded by old comforts and the familiar, ever-present past.</div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-47630418974547863272020-06-28T15:01:00.001-07:002020-06-28T15:01:25.511-07:00Squash Patties and Tomato Gravy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qb6RnIlZMS0/XveyZehgzXI/AAAAAAAAHH8/YF6wtVsYyTkM9Tg6r1EWOs3aP8K-Y0_rgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Squash_Patties_Recipe001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="558" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qb6RnIlZMS0/XveyZehgzXI/AAAAAAAAHH8/YF6wtVsYyTkM9Tg6r1EWOs3aP8K-Y0_rgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Squash_Patties_Recipe001.jpg" width="371" /></a>It's summer in Texas, so tomatoes, cucumbers, eggplants, peppers, okra, and squash are all in abundance. And since it's summer, both my sons are away in different states at the moment, so my ability to cook and eat vegetables to my heart's content is also abundant. I've been scouring community cookbooks, my collection of recipes, and my grandmother's clippings for summer vegetable dishes and pulled out this one from "Molly's Corner ," a column written by Hallettsville native, Molly Pesek. According to her obituary, Molly (1925-1986) was also a correspondent for the Victoria Advocate for some time. She was also the vice president of Pesek Memorial Company, which produced the headstone for my mother's grave in Hallettsville.<br />
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I don't know if my grandmother knew Molly, but she had clipped many, many of her recipes from the Lavaca County Tribune, some with a Texas-Czech bent, some not. Molly also self-published a cookbook, "Molly's Cookbook with Love", though in 1981, self-publishing meant typing the book yourself on a typewriter and having copies made. I made a copy from my good friend Lori's copy (also a Hallettsville native), who got it from Molly's daughter Connie. The book a fantastic trove of interesting traditional Texas Czech recipes from Molly's friends and family, along with things like Coke Salad, Hot Tamales, and Hummingbird Cake.<br />
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I got one enormous zucchini in my Imperfect Produce delivery box last week and a green pepper from Johnson's Backyard Garden at the Sunset Valley Farmer's Market, so I was ready to fry. The "patties" dropped from a spoon into the hot oil to fry, were shaped more like globules or some kind of sea creature; no rhyme or reason to their shape. At 375 degrees, they took about 4-5 minutes per side. Crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, they were just what I wanted eating dinner in front of the TV, binge-watching a series on Amazon Prime. My process photos are below.<br />
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I ate the patties with a cool, sour cream dressing-coated cucumber and red onion salad on the side. But I dipped the hot, crispy patties into warm tomato gravy. I have collected a few versions of recipes for this sauce from Texas Czech community cookbooks and they all involve sugar, making the sauce reminiscent of Campbell's Tomato Soup. The version I tried yesterday also included spices I normally associate with Christmas... cinnamon, cloves, allspice. The sauce was too sweet and too heavy on spices for me to try again with savory food, but the combination of the crispy patties (with the sweetness of the bell pepper) and the sauce was surprisingly good. <span style="text-align: center;">This morning, the leftover batter was just as delicious poured into a frying pan coated with a little olive oil </span><span style="text-align: center;">and cooked like an omelette.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All ingredients in a bowl, except for the zucchini.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zucchini grated and ready to add.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pattie "batter" all mixed together and ready to fry.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squash patties served with homemade tomato gravy and a cucumber salad.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next morning, the leftover batter was just as delicious poured into a frying pan coated with a little olive oil<br />and cooked like an omelette.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomatoes from my friend Lori's garden waiting to be made into Tomato Gravy.</td></tr>
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<br />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-87877811440816621792020-02-25T18:55:00.002-08:002020-02-25T19:02:41.573-08:00Failing at Koblihy and Bozi Milosti for Masupost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy Fat Tuesday! <span style="font-size: 12pt;">In the Czech
Catholic tradition, the period of days leading up to Ash Wednesday is called <i>Masupost</i> and is similar to what American
Southerners know as Mardi Gras, and Carnival that Brazilians celebrate. It’s a
time of food, music, costumes, and revelry before the self denial of Lent, the
40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter. An </span><a href="https://news.expats.cz/czech-food-drink/5-sinful-fat-thursday-treats-from-the-czech-republic/" style="font-size: 12pt;">article</a><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> on the Czech Expats website declares five “sinful” foods to have during <i>Masupost</i>,
presumably dishes to gorge on before giving up things like sugar or fried foods
during Lent. The list includes <i>koblihy</i>
(according to the article’s author, “</span><i style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="background: white;">Masopust</span></i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt;"> wouldn’t be <i>Masopust</i> without a batch of Czech
carnival donuts”), and <i>bozi milosti</i>.
These are fried squares or triangles of unleavened dough sprinkled with powdered
sugar.</span><br />
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<span style="background: white; color: black;">My mother made neither of these things, and my aunts don’t
remember their mother, my grandmother, making them either. However, in an oral
interview done with my grandmother in the 1990s, she remembered her
mother-in-law (Terezia Migl Kallus, at right with four of her children) making <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">koblihy</i>
the day before Ash Wednesday. Apparently, her children and grandchildren would
come over to the house in Wied to play dominoes and cards (also given up during
Lent) and she would make a “mountain” of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">koblihy</i>
filled with either poppyseed or prune filling and fried in hog lard. All these
years, I thought my great grandmother’s choice to fry <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">koblihy</i> that night was a random one, but then realized they’re
actually a traditional dish for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Masupost</i>.
Recipes for both <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">koblihy</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bozi milosti</i> can be found in many Texas
Czech community cookbooks, so though the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Masupost</i> isn’t mentioned in any of the academic books I have about
Texas Czech culture, clearly women were and are still making the sweets
associated with the holiday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black;">I have one fail and one success story about making both of
these fried wonders last weekend for my kids. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I offer my fail to highlight the pitfalls of
“testing” recipes from community cookbooks. I do this a lot because I have a
big, wonderful collection of books. They’re a treasure trove of recipes, but sometimes
a crapshoot as far as quality and reliability. Also, my grandmother and mother
have passed away, so I don’t have them any longer as a first hand source of
cooking advice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cD7lAC9d7fw/XlXZ6vjVl8I/AAAAAAAAG78/8ufaOVoASzQjXeHrR6sESxESFYMicfvYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG-2983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cD7lAC9d7fw/XlXZ6vjVl8I/AAAAAAAAG78/8ufaOVoASzQjXeHrR6sESxESFYMicfvYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG-2983.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bozi Milosti</td></tr>
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<span style="background: white; color: black;">The fail was my first attempt at making <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bozi milosti</i>. </span><span style="background: white; color: #1d2129;">I think
the end result looked fine, but the recipe was terrible. Only later comparing
it to other recipes, did I realize there was no sugar and no fat in the dough
and there should have been. All other recipes included these and I can only
assume their addition would have made a significant difference. My pastries
tasted like eating cardboard sprinkled with powdered sugar. I’d been hopeful
because the recipe was so simple and I certainly know how to fry things, but we
were so disappointed. They went straight in the garbage. The recipe came from The
West Heritage Cookbook (1986) on a page that had no less than four <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bozi milosti</i> recipes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #1d2129;">My
success was frying <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">koblihy</i>, though
the first shaping attempt was a fail (first photo below). I
first followed the recipe and cut two circles of dough out, added a dollop of
filling on top of one, and then set the other circle on top, pinching around
the edges to seal the filling in. The two sides of all the koblihy separated
during frying.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #1d2129;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i3NX3WziB_k/XlXaQtUj30I/AAAAAAAAG8E/Tu-FUkgcjpkIKWY-p_oEoiiFL1d8ZMZGgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG-2984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i3NX3WziB_k/XlXaQtUj30I/AAAAAAAAG8E/Tu-FUkgcjpkIKWY-p_oEoiiFL1d8ZMZGgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG-2984.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Koblihy fail. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 12pt;">Both sides were delicious (we spread jam on the side that had no
filling), but that’s not the look I was going for.</span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 12pt;">For the next batch, I flattened out one
larger circle of dough, plopped the filling in the center, gathered up the
sides around it, then rolled it into a ball.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zo94cG9B4cE/XlXbz-c98eI/AAAAAAAAG8k/74I7zhQarNgmWN2mN0EHf1ql8t0LOoEkQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2937.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zo94cG9B4cE/XlXbz-c98eI/AAAAAAAAG8k/74I7zhQarNgmWN2mN0EHf1ql8t0LOoEkQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_2937.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BBrHt6N74J8/XlXbz9HyKoI/AAAAAAAAG8o/urYvUFdyi40hIU_qkXKJve7cC1dCmBk2QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BBrHt6N74J8/XlXbz9HyKoI/AAAAAAAAG8o/urYvUFdyi40hIU_qkXKJve7cC1dCmBk2QCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_2940.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My <i>koblihy</i>, ready to fry, with an egg for size comparison.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 12pt;">They ended up more ball shaped
than donut-shaped, but at least the filling stayed inside. There is
hardly anything more delicious than hot fried donuts. My sons ate them while
playing Magic the Gathering, not cards or dominoes, which they’re unfortunately
not giving up any time soon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mUHITb5YIF8/XlXav2Wq7DI/AAAAAAAAG8Q/9MH09POJP6AAx_S_Pkphtq24zRpM3RndgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG-0291%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mUHITb5YIF8/XlXav2Wq7DI/AAAAAAAAG8Q/9MH09POJP6AAx_S_Pkphtq24zRpM3RndgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG-0291%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Koblihy success.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The recipe
below is by Claudia Matura from the Texas Czech Genealogical Society’s book </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Tribute to Texas Czech Cooks Cookbook</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
(2014), submitted by her granddaughter Elizabeth Ripple. The measurements below
made a dozen </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">koblihy</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> and are for half
Ripple’s original recipe.</span></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">Filled
Doughnuts (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Koblihy</i>)</span> </h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">1 cup cream<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">4 egg yolks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">2 tablespoons
sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">1 teaspoon
salt<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">2 teaspoon
vanilla<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">2 ¼-2 1/2
cups flour<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">grated rind
of ½ lemon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">1/2 teaspoon
lemon juice<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">1 tablespoon brandy
or bourbon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">1 package of
yeast softened in 1/8 cup water<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">1/8 teaspoon
of cardamom<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">filling of
your choice [as for kolaches]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">homemade lard
or Crisco oil for frying<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">Warm cream to
lukewarm. Beat egg yolks and slowly add to cream while beating mixture. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Let
cool Gradually add sugar, salt, vanilla and ½ cup flour. Mix and add lemon rind
and juice brandy, yeast, cardamom, and remaining flour. Dough must be very
soft.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--hz4SyQ0j4U/XlXclqjUlXI/AAAAAAAAG84/rF3IIRSOhSwK3_hxj7bLZ445snZS5M0EwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--hz4SyQ0j4U/XlXclqjUlXI/AAAAAAAAG84/rF3IIRSOhSwK3_hxj7bLZ445snZS5M0EwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_2929.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">After all ingredients are added, beat the dough with a wooden spoon until
it pulls away from the sides of the bowl and makes a “slapping” noise. Cover
bowl and let rise until more than double. Roll out on a floured board until
about 1/2 “ thick. Cut into rounds and place a small amount of prune or filling
of your choice into center and cover with another round of dough. Pinch edges
and recut edges with smaller cutter so that they are well sealed Let rise about
15 minutes. Fry in deep fat. Oil or lard is hot enough when it bubbles around a
small piece of dough. Drain on absorbent paper and dip in sugar. You can also fry donuts without filling.</span></div>
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-->Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-19522557623232365302019-07-30T20:31:00.000-07:002019-07-30T20:32:24.986-07:00Jidlo, Pivo, Vino<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3WEIlQm4YUk/XT-sq8osOqI/AAAAAAAAGr0/wJatROSQ8dEpo5XZ6pBpMzPIZztWcNFjgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_9825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3WEIlQm4YUk/XT-sq8osOqI/AAAAAAAAGr0/wJatROSQ8dEpo5XZ6pBpMzPIZztWcNFjgCKgBGAs/s640/IMG_9825.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On July 20th, my good friend Lori and I hosted a dinner party at her home and we called it <i>Jidlo, Pivo, Vino</i> (Food, Beer, Wine). The goal was to expose friends to food popular in the Texas Czech community that didn't include the three things most people think about (kolaches, sausage, or sauerkraut.) We wanted to be seasonal and we made everything from scratch (unless otherwise noted.) Our menu is below along with lots of photos taken by us and attending friends (who I thank for their generosity in sharing... Don Jansky, Zoy Kocian, Sarah Shephard.) A special thank you to Roberta Vasek for homemade peach cobbler and Robin Graham-Moore for home baked rohlicky. Thank you to everyone who brought wine, beer, and <i>slivovitz</i>. And to Lori's husband Glen for indulging us and putting up with it all. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Some things I learned:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>My mom's fried chicken recipe is rock solid but I will never fry chicken for 20 people again. (Took 2 hours.)</li>
<li>Dinner parties are AWESOME.</li>
<li>I wish we'd had a microphone so every time someone told an interesting story, all 20 people could hear it. </li>
<li>I want to throw another dinner party after sufficient rest from this one.</li>
<li>I'm not as big a fan of slivovitz as I thought. Bring on the Becharovka!</li>
</ul>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Jidlo, Pivo, Vino Menu</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>Appetizer Board</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Hudson's Meat Market Dried Kiolbassa</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Hudson's Meat Market Jalapeño and Cheese Summer Sausage</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Venison Jerky</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Homemade<i> Stary Syr </i>(Cooked Cheese with Caraway Seeds)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Homemade Pickled Okra, Bread and Butter Pickles, Pickled Beets</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Homemade Tomato Jam</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ap9aMJ_AN5A/XT-rnggM7cI/AAAAAAAAGro/EKgC_H4sk3UlqABMbOrLkzc-CY7LpJDGgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_9841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ap9aMJ_AN5A/XT-rnggM7cI/AAAAAAAAGro/EKgC_H4sk3UlqABMbOrLkzc-CY7LpJDGgCKgBGAs/s640/IMG_9841.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>Main Course</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Fried Chicken</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Cucumber and Tomato Salad with Onions</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Pan Fried Okra with Onions and Garlic</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
New Potatoes with Butter, Onions, and Parsley</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Rye Rolls</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Robin Graham-Moore's <i>Rohliky</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Kolach-Dough Dinner Rolls</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2V_YngUt3qE/XT-rnktuPTI/AAAAAAAAGro/2EuafYf0vMs3SQQiKAv8ApGZ04fBSi9ygCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG-8323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1232" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2V_YngUt3qE/XT-rnktuPTI/AAAAAAAAGro/2EuafYf0vMs3SQQiKAv8ApGZ04fBSi9ygCKgBGAs/s640/IMG-8323.JPG" width="492" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r_xlB9K0mDY/XT-rnl-UgnI/AAAAAAAAGro/FEKLnX6lX6sBXAGxhHTy-z4RTltNmvmrQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG-8333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r_xlB9K0mDY/XT-rnl-UgnI/AAAAAAAAGro/FEKLnX6lX6sBXAGxhHTy-z4RTltNmvmrQCKgBGAs/s640/IMG-8333.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-clNH58g7Spk/XT-rnn9NlqI/AAAAAAAAGro/UpNHVzgi_Bk8ndzF3SRb_ZilMTJIbZDbwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG-9824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-clNH58g7Spk/XT-rnn9NlqI/AAAAAAAAGro/UpNHVzgi_Bk8ndzF3SRb_ZilMTJIbZDbwCKgBGAs/s640/IMG-9824.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Dessert</b></div>
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Roberta Vasek's Peach Cobbler</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Apple Pie</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Buchta with Cherry, Prune, and Pecan Filling</div>
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<br /></div>
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a bottle of Becharovka</div>
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a bottle of Slivovitz</div>
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various wines</div>
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various beers</div>
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iced tea</div>
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a bottle of home-brewed cantaloupe wine from my cousins Ann and Gerald Adams</div>
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<br />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-26882299718779651022019-07-24T21:18:00.001-07:002019-07-25T11:28:38.251-07:001st Annual Kallus Chili Cook-Off and Reunion<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Earlier this month, cousins and aunts and uncles from my mother's side of the family met in Hallettsville at my grandparents' house (who are both deceased) for what we hope will be the first annual Kallus Reunion and Chili Cook Off. My grandparents were Texas Czechs 100%; both of their fathers were actually born in Moravia. But steaming, spicy chili runs deep in the veins of their descendants, supporting the "Texas" half of us being Texas Czech.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I spent many weekends in junior high and high school at cook offs around South Central Texas. My father and the team he was a part of (which included friends and my Uncle Johnny Kallus) won many chili contests, but also barbecue, beans, sauce, and "wild card" contests. My father and his team even represented Texas at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in 1996, hauling their huge barrel barbecue pit all the way to the National Mall in Washington D.C. to do cooking demonstrations. The chili recipe his team (Bull Hookers Chili) refined was my go-to recipe for the family contest. It had won serious competitions and was my idea of what chili was supposed to be. I had not however, as far as I can remember, actually made my Dad's chili more than maybe once or twice, probably over a decade ago. But I'm a good cook and didn't have much time to think about the process beforehand, so decided to just throw it together the morning of our family get together. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My family is so big that there were six other entries in our cook off. The real reason for the event was just for us all to get together during the year at a time other than Christmas, but my uncle George and lots of cousins took the contest very seriously. Plus we had to collectively feed 47 people, so seven pots of chili was a great way to do it. If the rest of my cousins and aunt and uncles had attended, there would have been over another 50 people at the event. I wonder what the backyard and kitchen would have looked like with six or seven more teams. But the more the merrier, for sure, though we probably would have had to rent port-a-potties.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have very specific ideas about what "chili" means, so was surprised at some of the creative and tasty recipes that my cousins used. Ingredients ranged from tomatoes to potatoes, cinnamon to Serranos and meats included not just traditional beef, but venison, elk, and pork. Some chilis were spicy, some were sweet. Two teams cooked outside on propane burners, some of us cooked on my grandmother's stove inside, and some people brought their's already made and kept it warm in crock pots.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">For dinner, family members ate bowls of chili sprinkled with cheese or raw onions, poured their chili over hot dogs, or made Frito pies. We served fruit salad and a grilled corn and zucchini salad on the side with chips and dips and homemade klobasniks and cookies all at the same time. There was beer, wine, iced tea, and lemonade.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The real spiciness, the real sweetness of the day, came from the conversations, jokes, smiles, and stories shared among first cousins, grandchildren and grandparents, aunts and uncles. My grandparents moved into the house we were having fun in in 1938 and every single person at the event, from my 79 year old uncle to the one year old daughter of one of my cousins, had known the house their entire lives. When we were little, my first cousins and I would sleep in the living room on palettes, giggling late into the night, and listening to our parents talking in the kitchen. Now we're making the palettes for children and grandchildren and we're the ones up until midnight with a beer playing Scrabble or cleaning the kitchen. My grandparents are dead and even my mom passed away this year, so being with my cousins and aunts and uncles in my grandparents' incredibly special house grounds me and reminds me how I, at least in part, became who I am. Cooking together, sharing food, and cleaning up afterwords are a big part of that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, though we only gave out trophies (donated by my dad from his extensive collection) for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place for chili (plus a Showmanship trophy), really we all won big emotionally. Four of my cousins and their whole families flew from Las Vegas to reconnect with Texas family and spend time together... a huge and immensely generous effort. The event stretched into a whole weekend - we fed each other, talked and listened to each other, and loved each other. It was a beautiful thing and we were quick to set the date for next year. (When I will be defending my 1st place win with my Dad's recipe.) </span></div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-14441387725211773512019-06-30T19:45:00.002-07:002021-06-22T16:20:33.670-07:00Preserving Produce: The Sweet, Sour, and Savory<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes when you start to think about a subject, you notice more and more references in the world to it. Suddenly it's randomly brought up in conversations, you might see signs for it, or run across it in a store or in the media. So it's been these last few weeks for me with canning.<br />
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After two family reunions, visits with cousins, and a trip to the farmers market on my way through Luling, I amassed quite a pantry full of items, more than I've ever had at one time. And such diversity, which really speaks to the bounty of Texas in the different areas that my relatives live, their personal tastes, and what's traditional to their family. I ended up with 16 jars of different things. Above are pickled beets (Don and Gladys Orsak from our Orsak reunion), hot dill pickles from Mikesh Produce in Luling, pear butter (cousin Ann Adams in Floresville), and apricot habanero jelly, made by cousin Rose Cofer and won in the silent auction at the Morkovsky reunion in Hallettsville.<br />
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Above are pickled beets from my aunt Karen and uncle Reed Jackson in Denton, pickled okra (Don and Gladys Orsak), orange marmalade (made by first-cousin-once-removed Marilyn Hollis and won at the silent auction at the Orsak reunion in Ganado), and tomato raspberry jam (cousin Ann Adams.)<br />
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Above are elderberry jelly (aunt Karen and uncle Reed) and grape jelly, loquat jelly, and pickle relish all from Don and Gladys Orsak.<br />
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The last batch above is all from my cousins (also first cousins once removed) Don and Gladys Orsak. I won a whole basket of their fantastic canning efforts in the silent auction of our Orsak reunion in Ganado earlier this month. Above is bread and butter pickles, hot chili petines in vinegar, canned green beans, and canned carrots.<br />
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Inspired by all this family creativity, resourcefulness, and industriousness, a week ago my friend Lori and I determined to make <i>kvasena </i>(crock pickles), which is maybe my favorite type of pickle. Lori made a call to a friend who works for <a href="http://www.farmtotabletx.com/" target="_blank">Farm to Table</a> to get us enough cucumbers and fresh dill for two gallon jars of pickles, plus a little leftover for a cucumber salad. In a bout of serendipity, at the Morkovsky reunion last weekend, a first-cousin-by-marriage-once-removed offered us each a gallon of well water from his property in Goliad County.<br />
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Using well water to make the best <i>kvasena</i> is a pervasive family food myth. It may be a myth or maybe it's not. I called my father's "canning hotline" to ask about this and he told me his grandmother, Sophie Zielonka, told him that the high mineral content in well water keeps the pickles crispy longer. Indeed, that's why I like them so much. You can find my <i>kvasena</i> recipe (which is actually my great Aunt Louise's recipe) in a previous blog post <a href="https://svacinaproject.blogspot.com/2011/06/thursday-820am-put-pickles-in-fridge.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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After the <i>kvasena</i> endeavor, a friend of Lori's has a friend whose father has a farm in Lockhart and offered produce to Lori, who then called me for a second canning project today. Lori's friend facilitated a hook up of 20+ pounds of tomatoes, plus okra, cucumbers, and bell peppers. Lori suggested making salsa and tomato jam.<br />
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The first time I ever had tomato jam was actually at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in Washington DC. I was a curatorial assistant for the Texas Food and Wine Program that year and had taken the amazing and wonderful Hoover Alexander from Austin, among nine other traditional cooks, to do cooking demonstrations and talk about food and his African-American heritage. He made tomato jam for one of his presentations. But when I asked my father about the jam, he reminded me that his grandparents had a tomato truck farm in Dewitte County near Cuero and said that he remembers eating it frequently at their house.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grating the ginger. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fourteen pounds of tomatoes ready for boiling. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lori's mother's canning spoon (Leona (Vasek) Najvar.) </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Other ingredients to add to the pot for the jam. </td></tr>
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The recipe for the tomato jam Lori and I made was straight from the internet and can be found <a href="https://www.thekitchn.com/how-to-make-tomato-jam-247279" target="_blank">here</a>, though we processed the jars using the instructions in <a href="https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2011/08/tomato-jam-recipe.html" target="_blank">this</a> recipe. The recipe was certainly different than what my father remembered his grandmother making, which only included tomatoes, sugar, and a little cinnamon.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lori's nephew Bryce and me, stirring the pot. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the stage at which you know the jam is thick enough...<br />
when you scrape the spoon across the bottom of the pot and the jam stays where you pushed it. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putting the jars in the canner for processing. </td></tr>
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Since we just finished making the jam, and as I write the jars are boiling away in the canner, I will report back. The jam was delicious out of the pot, though... thick and sweet and savory both with a little kick from the red chili flakes. From 14 pounds of tomatoes, we got 7 pints of deliciousness, which we marveled at... 2 pounds per jar. Incredible. But it's Texas summer preserved in glass and makes me think of hard work and sunshine and friendship... definitely worth the hours of work, especially when you're doing it with friends.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooking and blogging.</td></tr>
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<br />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-82337701626229636522019-06-26T06:48:00.001-07:002019-06-26T06:48:04.915-07:00Chef's Table<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NAo4iYXMHFk/XQ1XynPBJ1I/AAAAAAAAGe4/b97bFTvFE2Ic79SH_K-TYCeutCeZlb-jwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1507.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NAo4iYXMHFk/XQ1XynPBJ1I/AAAAAAAAGe4/b97bFTvFE2Ic79SH_K-TYCeutCeZlb-jwCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_1507.jpg" /></a><br />
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I rarely watch television, but in the last few weeks, both my sons and I have seen several episodes of Chef's Table on Netflix. My favorite is about the chef Magnus Nilsson and his restaurant Fäviken in Jämtland, Sweden. Nilsson created a menu that drew almost exclusively from ingredients that could be foraged or grown and raised on the land and in the waters near the restaurant. Since the area is covered in snow for months of the year, dishes utilize produce and meat preserved in various ways, from pickling, storing in a root cellar, and salting and drying. Nilsson also researched and wrote the massive <i>Nordic Cookbook</i>, in which he collected recipes from home cooks from all over Scandinavia and other countries.<br />
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I know, of course, that my Texas Czech great grandmothers (and even one more generation back) also foraged for and grew and raised what they ate every day. But I never knew them, so have no direct knowledge of what they grew, or how they cooked what they grew. No recipes survived my great grandmother or her mother. And by the time I was an adult, my grandmother, who lived her adult life in town, no longer gardened. I have certainly been exposed to and eaten traditional foods. I've learned to make others through various members of my family and the Texas Czech community. But last weekend, I felt I'd walked into a Texas-Czech episode of Chef's Table when I visited my cousin Ann Adams near Floresville.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jwwFOd5FrAk/XQ1XT4rkAHI/AAAAAAAAGeY/5hnKb-hVQbcxDoftBejG1mtIXEy-I3bIgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1515.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jwwFOd5FrAk/XQ1XT4rkAHI/AAAAAAAAGeY/5hnKb-hVQbcxDoftBejG1mtIXEy-I3bIgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_1515.jpg" /></a>I visited Ann with her sister, Mary Christine (at left) - a nun at Our Lady of the Lake in San Antonio, so that we could see some family memorabilia Ann had. But the day ended up being so much about food. Though I know a lot about Czech food in Texas, it's really more from study as an adult than absorption as I grew up. At Ann's, I felt like the proverbial city slicker who thinks milk comes from cartons instead of an animal's mammary glands. The house that Ann and her husband Gerald occupy near Floresville was built by her parents in the 1960s and is on land that is abundant with edible things. This fact is combined with Ann's knowledge of Texas Czech and Czech cooking and yields delicious results.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-071w2wAEbck/XQ1XUIfxdoI/AAAAAAAAGeg/hno9Jyc-WcQApUARGpcNE8KpQHlFc_UOwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1516.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-071w2wAEbck/XQ1XUIfxdoI/AAAAAAAAGeg/hno9Jyc-WcQApUARGpcNE8KpQHlFc_UOwCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_1516.jpg" /></a>For lunch, the spread we sat down to at Ann's "chef's table" included sandwiches (homemade pimiento cheese and homemade tuna), deviled eggs, a salad of homegrown tomatoes, bread cubes, and basil, plus jars of pickles and pickled okra to help myself from, and iced tea. Ann's family has strong connections to the Czech Republic (her mother immigrated just before World War 1) and she and her sisters have visited relatives there many times. We ate off of plates she'd purchased there. Farther down on the same enormous table was an enormous pile of basil, literally the size of a bush. Ann confessed to eating a lot of basil, and that she was going to dry it for use in the coming year.<br />
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After lunch, Ann's daughter (my second cousin), Christine, and a friend of hers and I walked out onto the property to see the state of the wild grape vines. I was hoping to head home with enough for a batch of jelly, my younger son's favorite. Sadly, there were no grapes to be had. Either the vines hadn't produced or the grapes had shriveled and fallen off without Ann knowing they'd been there. We did to walk past fields of wild flowers that grow on the property and Christine remarked how lovely it was to see various flowers coming up as the seasons passed, continually renewing the fields with different colors.<br />
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Late in the afternoon, we sampled Ann and Gerald's homemade cantaloupe wine, which was much less sweet than you'd think. Ann ushered me into their bedroom to show me the almost-empty carbo, plus an almost-full carbo of persimmon wine that were both sitting on the floor in front of the glass doors that went out to the screened-in porch. We could see a male and three female wild turkeys parading around the yard beyond the porch. They don't shoot the turkeys because Gerald doesn't think turkey is worth eating. I have to agree with him. Turkey is my least favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal. Maybe that's why the turkeys on Gerald's property come so close to the house... nothing to fear.<br />
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We talked about snakes (Ann was bitten by a rattle snake once), rural kids being "farm strong", Ann's desire to forage on the property for whatever she could find, and kolach fillings. Apparently Ann's across-the-road neighbor grows poppies to harvest the seeds for baking. This is a task I've longed to lear<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">n how to do, but always seem to find out about someone who still does it after the right season to help. But we also talked South Texas influences on her cooking, theorizing about prickly pears and <span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(84, 84, 84);">cajeta (caramel made from goat's milk) in kolaches.</span></span></div>
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At the end of the day, as Sister Mary Christine and I prepared to go, a neighbor dropped in to relay news about his wife's cancer treatment and brought a dozen beautiful yard eggs of varying colors. And as I passed through the laundry room/pantry to head out to the car, Ann handed me a jar of homemade pear butter. I left longing to come back and spend weekends cooking, canning, picking, and otherwise absorbing the knowledge she has about traditional Texas Czech food. And inspired to experiment with more and more dishes for my own table. </div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-72352549053362516502019-05-31T21:03:00.000-07:002019-06-26T06:36:30.540-07:00Giving Thanks for Being Czech<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zS5UVLuGf4I/XPHxVF5KdPI/AAAAAAAAGbE/LuzX_3zGdF01YU3rBj10D64KT-RZk42HACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zS5UVLuGf4I/XPHxVF5KdPI/AAAAAAAAGbE/LuzX_3zGdF01YU3rBj10D64KT-RZk42HACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_3046.JPG" width="266" /></a>I've recently been looking through Sean N. Gallup's wonderful book <i>Journeys into Czech-Moravian Texas </i>(Texas A&M University Press, 1998) at the same time I've been looking through photos I took of my mom's last months. She passed away in January of this year. On page 83 of the book, Gallup has a poignant photo of small boy only a few years younger than my youngest son (at left). In the text under the photo, Gallup wrote "Trey [Ging] will likely never learn to speak more than a few words of Czech, and though the culture may remain evident in the values that guide him later in life, one can only wonder if he will retain his sense of connection to a Texas-Czech ethnic and personal identity."<br />
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These words were in my head as I looked at photos from my mom's last Thanksgiving dinner. My family and my sister-in-law's family joined at the home of my brother and his wife in Houston. There was absolutely nothing Czech about our meal, I'll say right up front. When it comes to Thanksgiving, my father's favorite holiday, we eat as traditionally American as any other family. My brother cooked both roast and fried turkeys (and even fried an extra so that everyone had leftovers to take home) and provided most of the adult libations. The rest of us divided up the appetizers, sides, and desserts among us to bring potluck style.<br />
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I thought about trying to force some Czech-style cooking method or ingredients onto a traditional Thanksgiving dish for the purpose of being able to write about it for this blog, but decided against it. I ended up taking corn pudding (or casserole), which did ironically come from the SPJST 100th anniversary cookbook, plus a pear tart from the November 2018 issue of <i>Martha Stewart Living </i>magazine, and the makings of Poinsettia Cocktails, a recipe straight from the internet.<br />
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Other family members brought mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, rolls, green salad, roast sweet potatoes, pumpkin <i>tres leches</i> cake, pecan pie, bacon-wrapped figs, crudités arranged to look like a turkey and served with ranch dressing, a cheese tray with almonds, and a vanilla cake.<br />
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Though our menu was decidedly American, I did think a lot about the undercurrents of family dynamics, division of labor, and communication among the 28 of us enjoying each other's company that day and how they reflected the values that I associate with Czechs. At a time when immigration, ethnicity, and questions about American values are at the forefront of discussions, I often reflect on my own family's story.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AltyyEHYREM/XPHxGC3eTfI/AAAAAAAAGa4/bkhjiJlUe-wL7U2ZGYe1MhZEuzXrDLuxwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AltyyEHYREM/XPHxGC3eTfI/AAAAAAAAGa4/bkhjiJlUe-wL7U2ZGYe1MhZEuzXrDLuxwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_3027.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a>I am the great-granddaughter of immigrants (and great-great-granddaughter and great-great-great-granddaughter.) My earliest ancestor to set foot here in Texas (and they ALL came to Texas on both my mother's and father's side) only came in the 1850s. That's generations later than some of my Mexican-American friends' relatives. My grandmother, who died at 98 only last year, still spoke some Polish learned from her father who's grandfather came to Texas from what is now Poland. I love having direct connections to the relatives that gave up everything known to them at that point to try and make a better life for themselves in America. It fills me with gratitude to them and for the opportunities they had here. The connections compel me to hope for the same opportunities for anyone brave enough to leave their home country seeking the same things my ancestors sought. I'm lucky enough to be generations away from that heart-breaking journey and hope I never become hardened to the idea that other people have the right to embark on the same journey now.<br />
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I think about the intangible things handed down to me from generations of Czech and Polish immigrant ancestors trying to make better lives... not food traditions, or national costumes, or a love of polka music, but ways of being, of seeing the world, ways of prioritizing my responsibilities, and what things are important to me. Of course, things like hard work are not exclusive to any ethnic group, but below are some ways my family carried on its Czech-ness while celebrating being Americans on Thanksgiving.<br />
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Multi-generational togetherness - Grandparents, parents, children, siblings, cousins, in-laws, aunts, and uncles all passed around the baby. Grandparents told stories and grandchildren told stories. We settled squabbles and let the older folks make their plates first. Cousins from age 9 to 19 swam in the pool, played board games, and video games.<br />
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Love of adult libations - This family trait is certainly not exclusive to Czechs, but Czechs are big drinkers and our family certainly enjoys a glass of wine or scotch or the fantastic brandy my brother poured me late in the day as I played Illimat.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZqgFmShn1OQ/XPHyJD8K8YI/AAAAAAAAGbg/FnlDAk-jOdATsVx6tS1XI_tdmfKZHnkWQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZqgFmShn1OQ/XPHyJD8K8YI/AAAAAAAAGbg/FnlDAk-jOdATsVx6tS1XI_tdmfKZHnkWQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_3029.JPG" width="266" /></a>Hard work and cooperation - from rocking to sleep my sister-in-law's sister's baby to ripping all the meat off the turkey carcass so we could make soup broth to washing dishes to filling up what seemed like dozens of "to go" containers with leftovers, we do not shy away from things that need to be done. Some jobs (like rocking babies to sleep) are sweeter than others.<br />
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It pleases me to think about my mother surrounded by family and extended family on her last Thanksgiving, enjoying the fruits of the labors and feeling the support and companionship of generations of people who loved her. And knowing the values she was raised with and raised us with are being passed on, whether we identify them as a legacy of our Czech background or not.<br />
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<br />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-38827017067753519652019-05-27T10:44:00.000-07:002019-05-29T06:47:03.709-07:00Pork Served Grandma's Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Looking through a box of recipes that my grandmother saved from local newspapers, I found a directive for dinner from Emily (Smolik) Buckert, who wrote the longtime Good Taste column in the Victoria Advocate beginning in the 1960s... "Now is a good time to return to the old fashioned goodness of pork chops and some of the dishes that grandmother served," she wrote before offering a recipe for Pork Steaks with Kraut. I absolutely agree, I thought. Now is the time.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">I made a date to spend last Saturday morning with my friend Lori at the Sunset Valley Farmer's Market and then Central Market looking for ingredients. Lori and I do what I imagine my grandmother did with her neighbors... share surplus produce or dishes we made too much of. Or we test new recipes on each other to get a second opinion. We're thinking about hosting a dinner party together soon, so have been talking a lot about food lately, especially food in the Texas </span><span style="text-align: center;">Czech community and what our grandmothers and mothers served. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Most often I think about my grandmother (Anita Kallus) as my family link to traditional Texas Czech food. She made things like chicken noodle soup, cream cheese rolls, soup with <i>kapanky</i> (egg drop soup), and creamed spinach. And mostly I ate at her house for holidays like Easter or Christmas when traditional foods were more likely to have staying power on the menu. </span>But her collection of newspaper clippings reminded me that she had to put dinner on the table for a husband and up to 8 children every day for decades. In fact, the recipes from Emily Buckert's column that my grandmother collected indeed span from the mid 1960s to the late 80s.<br />
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And Anita lived her married life "in town" (Hallettsville), not on a farm, so was influenced by newspaper columns, local restaurants, talking with friends at her children's school and at church. I found recipes for Cabbage Cacciotore, Skillet Spaghetti, Italian Eggplant Casserole, and something called Mexican Meal in her collection among hundreds more. She obviously was continuously looking for new and interesting ways to combine the ingredients available in Hallettsville. The number of cookbooks she owned was very small, maybe 10 books, but she collected a huge number of recipes clipped from newspapers, magazines, the backs of product containers, and handwritten recipes from friends and relatives.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Back home on </span>Saturday evening, my son and I made Emily Buckert's pork recipe. At the farmers market I found huge, beautiful pork chops (instead of the pork steaks the recipe called for) from Richardson Farms. I cut the recipe in half since it's just two of us. Of course, pork and sauerkraut is a standard of Czech cooking and even considered the "national dish" (served with dumplings.) I imagine this recipe as a derivation, created by some Texas Czech housewife being creative with what she had... a little bit of rice in the pantry that wasn't enough for a whole meal, maybe the juice from a jar of tomatoes she'd put up. <br />
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<b><span style="text-align: center;">Pork Steaks with Kraut</span></b><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">4 </span>pork steaks, 1/2 inch thick<br />
salt and pepper<br />
1 tablespoon fat<br />
1 can (16 oz.) sauerkraut<br />
2 tablespoons rice, uncooked<br />
1/2 teaspoon salt<br />
1/2 teaspoon sugar<br />
1 tablespoon caraway seeds<br />
1/2 cup tomato juice<br />
1/2 cup water<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pork chop in the skillet with all ingredients before popping on a lid and simmering for an hour.</td></tr>
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Brown pork steaks on each side. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Drain sauerkraut. Spread kraut over pork steaks. Sprinkle with rice, seasonings and pour tomato juice and water over all. Cover and cook slowly 45 minutes to 1 hour. Serves 4.<br />
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The final dish was so delicious... tender and rich. We ate it with a cold, crisp cucumber salad, but the sauerkraut was the surprising winner of the meal. After simmering in pork juice for an hour with spices, it was savory and the little bit of sugar made it just the right combination of sweet-sour. I don't know if my grandmother ever made this recipe, but I love that something from her collection ended up on my son's dinner table.<br />
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<br />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-91141205606630229982019-04-30T06:30:00.000-07:002019-04-30T09:42:47.773-07:00Kolacheese<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In April of 2018 I got laid off from my job. It was, as layoffs will be, unexpected. I had no savings and no plan and only knew that I desperately wanted to work for myself, trying to make a living from the things that I was most passionate about... Texas Czech food, history, and culture. I started throwing the proverbial spaghetti at the wall. I created a website for my services to plan family reunions and help people publish family cookbooks. I started a side business baking kolaches. And I entered a recipe in the annual contest called the Wisconsin Grilled Cheese Recipe Showdown. I figured that if I won, the thousands of dollars in prize money would keep me going for a little while and one of Texas Czechs' beloved regional foods would gain more national attention in the process.<br />
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I am the very first person to correct someone calling what is actually a klobasnik, a kolach. So I'll admit that in financial desperation I ignored my own principles for the sake of marketing. A version of a grilled cheese sandwich is certainly not a kolach, but the name Kolacheese (copyrighted by yours truly) sounded clever, and I really wanted to win the contest. Below is the video I made for my entry, in which I describe the sandwich I created (served as two smaller “sliders”) and the name's justification.<br />
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I did not win the contest (or even place), but my Kolacheese are pretty yummy. They are a sweet-savory mash up of the things I love most in kolaches (apricots and yeasty dough) and klobasniky (jalapeño sausage and sauerkraut), all covered in melted cheese, for which I'm a sucker. <span style="font-family: Times;">I used <a href="https://kiolbassa.com/" target="_blank">Kiolbassa Provision Company</a>'s Jalapeño Beef Sausage because they are the perfect size, use all natural casings, are delicious, and because I like to support my friend Wendy Stiles. I met Wendy in 2008 doing fieldwork for the Smithsonian Folklife Festival, which featured Texas food, wine and music traditions that year. I was Curatorial Consultant for the <a href="https://festival.si.edu/past-program/2008/texas-a-celebration-of-music-food-and-wine" target="_blank">food and wine program</a>, looking for folks to cook and speak at the festival representing traditional foodways. Growing up in a Polish Texan family in a majority Mexican American Texas city, Wendy ate and cooked sausage a lot. Her grandfather started the Kiolbassa Provision Company in 1949, which also makes Polish-style sausage and Mexican chorizo. Wendy is well versed in recipes that draw on both traditions and works for the sausage company her family still owns.</span><span style="font-family: Times;"> </span><br />
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Below is the recipe for your summer cookouts, backyard barbecues, and late night snacking.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Texas-Czech Kolacheese</span></b><br />
<i>makes 4 sandwiches (2 per person), but enough kolach dough for many more </i><br />
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<b>For the kolach rolls: </b></div>
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½ cup of whole milk<br />
1 packet of dry yeast<br />
½ cup warm water<br />
1/3 cup sugar plus 1 teaspoon<br />
½ cup melted Crisco (or fat of choice, like butter or lard)<br />
1 teaspoon salt<br />
1 large egg<br />
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1 egg yolk<br />
3-4 cups of flour plus 2 teaspoons<br />
¼ cup butter for brushing pan and kolach rolls </div>
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Bring the milk just to the boil and then set it aside to cool. In a small bowl, sprinkle 1 packet of dry yeast over ½ cup of warm water and let proof. In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the sugar, fat, and salt. <br />
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Beat the egg and add to the yeast mixture, then add that to the Crisco mixture. Then add the cooled milk to the mixer bowl. Add the flour a ½ cup at a time to the mixer. The dough should almost be too sticky to handle, but you shouldn’t need more than 4 cups. When it’s all combined, let the mixer knead the dough for 5 minutes. Turn the dough out into a large buttered bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let it double in size, roughly an hour. <br />
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Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. When risen, scoop out the dough using a spoon to make 2.5 oz. balls (a little bigger than a golf balls). You'll need to butter very well the spoon and your hands to keep the dough from sticking to you. Roll the dough ball in your hands to make sure the shape is even. Arrange the dough balls on a buttered, baking pan. Brush them with butter and let them rise again 20-30 minutes. Bake in a 350 degree oven until golden– about 20 minutes. Brush the kolach rolls with butter once more after taking them out of the oven. <br />
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<b>For the sauerkraut:</b></div>
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1 14 oz. can of sauerkraut<br />
½ large onion, chopped<br />
6-8 Tablespoons butter<br />
2 teaspoons flour<br />
1 teaspoon sugar<br />
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Drain the sauerkraut. Put into a pot with enough water to cover and simmer it for 10 minutes. Drain the sauerkraut, reserving ¼ cup of the water. In a frying pan over medium heat, melt a Tablespoon of butter and sauté the onion in it until golden. Add 2 teaspoons of flour and a teaspoon of sugar and sauté until browned. Add the reserved liquid from draining the sauerkraut and stir until thickened and the sauerkraut is coated. It should not be liquidy. Set aside.<br />
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<b>For the sausage:</b></div>
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2 small jalapeno sausages (beef or pork), roughly 3-4 ounces each<br />
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Heat a nonstick skillet on medium. Slice the sausages crosswise diagonally into 1/4” slices. When the pan is hot, lightly brown the slices about 2 minutes on each side. Drain on paper towels, while you assemble the sandwiches.<br />
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<b>To assemble the sandwiches:</b></div>
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4 slices of Havarti cheese<br />
brown mustard<br />
apricot preserves </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Slice rolls in half horizontally and arrange the bottoms on a baking sheet. On each of the four bottoms, spread 1 tablespoon apricot preserves. Top the preserves with 1 heaping tablespoon of sauerkraut. Evenly divide ¼ of the sausage slices on top of the sauerkraut on each roll. Cover the sausage on each sandwich with 1 slice of Havarti cheese.</span></div>
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Spread the four sandwich tops with a thin layer of mustard and place on top of the cheese. In large nonstick skillet, melt 2-3 tablespoons butter over medium heat. Place sandwiches in skillet and spread remaining butter over sandwich tops. Cook sandwiches until bottom of roll is golden brown, about 3 minutes. Using a spatula, carefully flip sandwiches, pressing down gently. Continue cooking additional 3 minutes, or until both sides are golden brown and filling is warm and melted. Serve 2 sandwiches per person immediately.</div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-57784583799762212019-04-19T07:40:00.001-07:002019-04-19T07:40:51.544-07:00My Mother<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my mom at a Morkovsky family reunion in the early 1990s.</td></tr>
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Three months ago, on January 22, my mother passed away at her home in Katy peacefully with close family members around her bed. She was 71. Her life changed literally overnight in 2011 when she learned she had cancer – her colon ruptured during the night with very little warning. She never went back to work again, never went on an overseas trip again. Her relationship to the world, and to the people in it, became framed by her health, treatments, and how much time she had left to be with us. But my parents’ neighbor Chuck told me he can’t remember one encounter with Betty when she appeared to have a bad day, even during the long battle with her illness. To her last days, she continued to be positive and hopeful, to bake, to listen to and encourage the people in her life, to host and attend family events, and to laugh (or roll her eyes, depending on the situation). She was funny and supportive, creative, generous and sarcastic, playful, positive, and gracious.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picnic in Connecticut, early 1970s.</td></tr>
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My love of good cooking, my ideas about a meal’s role in a loving family’s life, and my respect for food as a marker of cultural identity are all attributable to my mother and father. Everything about Betty’s life supported these lessons, so I offer this post about the entirety of my mother’s life (not just information about her formidable cooking skills or the dishes she was known for.) This post is a combination/derivation of the eulogy I gave at her funeral and the printed program I wrote for her services.<br />
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Elizabeth “Betty” Jean Kallus was born on March 11, 1947 to Anita (Morkovsky) and George Kallus in Hallettsville, Texas. She was the sixth of eight children. The family she was born into was large and close, Catholic, and Czech. Her family, her unwavering faith, and her heritage grounded and strengthened Betty throughout her life. </div>
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Betty graduated from Sacred Heart Catholic School in Hallettsville in 1965 and just four months later, she married my father, Steve Orsak, on September 6th. In their 53 years together, my parents maintained a home and family life that centered the world of their four children, 10 grandchildren, two great grandchildren, and even friends, in-laws, cousins, and siblings. For their first 13 years together, Betty supported Steve as his work transferred us around the country, and the homes she made for us turned out to be many… first in Texas, then in Ohio, Georgia, Connecticut, again in Georgia, New Jersey, and back to Houston before finally settling in Katy, Texas.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My parents visiting San Francisco, 1975</td></tr>
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Together, my parents cultivated lifelong hobbies. They collected antiques, travelled in the U.S., Canada, Mexico, the Caribbean, and Europe. They gardened and cooked, and could dance together like they were one person.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1964</td></tr>
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My mother was a high school cheerleader, a candy striper, rodeo competitor, and thrower of dinner parties. She worked for Burnet and Company for 20 years after years as (and sometimes in addition to being) my father’s receptionist, secretary, and bookkeeper. Betty was an expert sewer and quilter, making everything from my and my sister’s prom dresses to pillowcases for children in the hospital. Sometimes she sewed Halloween costumes and painted china dolls for her grandchildren, and sometimes she offered them hours of philosophical discussion. My siblings and I saw her take comfort in nature, art, family, reading, and her faith. </div>
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The kind and generous words of her friends, neighbors and coworkers in her last few weeks helped illuminate for me what were her greatest gifts… her presence in the lives of those she loved, and the openness and acceptance around which she built relationships. </div>
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A few of you, her older sisters and brothers and some first cousins, knew Betty from the day she was born. You got to play with my mom as a child growing up in Hallettsville… making paper dolls or roller skating in her parents’ driveway. Others, more siblings and more cousins, of which she had so many, knew her over 60 years. Maybe you were her confidants, double dates, or stayed up all night talking at slumber parties. There are friends out there, in laws, beloved nieces and nephews, my father (and me) who came into her life over 50 years ago. She graced the lives of more friends, more nieces and nephews, godchildren, more in-laws, and my 3 siblings for over 40 years. In the last 15 to 30 years, she welcomed a daughter in law and 2 sons in law, her first 8 grandchildren, and friends of her children. One of my brother’s teenage friends admittedly wrote to us “She was a mother to quite a number of us.”</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1978</td></tr>
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Finally, in the last 10 years of her life, there came 2 more grandchildren, 2 great grandchildren, and another daughter in law. For 8 of these last years, my mother waged her epic battle with cancer while continuously giving her time, support, and council to these many, many people she cared about. </div>
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My mother built and cemented all these relationships with, first, the idea of family… family by birth or family by choice. In fact, my father told me that for them there was no difference and many of you feel this. Her niece, Jerrica, told me “your mom was such a vital part of our family. She was always at everything and was really committed.” Jerrica’s observation reflects my mother’s sense of duty – not duty with resignation or drudgery, but duty in the sense of rising gracefully to the responsibilities of being a mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a friend. From attending baptisms and high school graduations, sending birthday and congratulations cards, to attending every family reunion and working at many, she (and my father both) believed in the idea of family as a supportive, steady institution and were willing to sacrifice time and effort to build and cultivate a rock-solid world for their clan. And collectively, we all benefitted. Her home (especially her kitchen), and her heart, was always open. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mother on her 50th birthday in March 1997.</td></tr>
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Second, my mother offered unconditional love to the people she met. When I asked my father what he would say about her in this speech, he told me she was an exceptional person because she accepted people for what and who they were. She may not have felt you were making the best choices, but she was going to be there for you when you figured that out. And she was, without fail. If one of my siblings or I brought home a date for one dinner or for a lifetime, they were immediately part of the family. It didn’t matter if a niece came to visit with pink hair, or you told her you were quitting a job to find yourself, or she learned about our more serious lapses in judgment, she was there for us, and I suspect for you, too. One friend wrote to me that my mother is her role model for how to love her child.</div>
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In closing, my father and siblings and I want to thank you all for your unfaltering support and innumerable prayers, all of which meant so much to my mother (and to us). We ask each of you to hold dear your own memories of Betty. Let them make you laugh and comfort you. Feel her unconditional love and acceptance, and let those memories bring you joy. This is my mother’s gift to us and she could have no greater legacy.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas 2018, one month before my mother passed, with every descendent around her.</td></tr>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-26728340328435603782018-10-30T20:01:00.003-07:002019-05-01T18:13:54.766-07:00Cesky Vecer 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I sometimes feel like Austin, though it’s the heart of the state, is a barren wasteland of Texas Czech culture. Rarely does a polka band play here. (Yes, they do play, but rarely.) It’s not possible to find a decent kolach. There are no traditionally Czech Catholic churches, so no picnics are held like the ones that happen in small, rural towns in the Texas “Czech Belt.” The University of Texas’ Center for Russian and East European Studies sometimes has fantastic lectures, but they’re scheduled during the weekday for students or retired folks, so I never get to attend. The Travis-Williamson Counties Czech Heritage Society chapter meets monthly, but in Pflugerville or Taylor on a weekday night, making it impossible to attend with a full-time job and child in school in far south Austin. (Austin traffic!!!) </div>
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I sometimes forget that there are thousands of people in this city that probably have some Czech family history. This feeling made me appreciate even more the Cesky Vecer event held by the Austin Czech Historical Association (ACHA) on October 21st at the much-easier-to-get-to Saengerrunde Hall downtown. It was the 24thannual event and it was just pure joy to be there. I made new friends, strengthened relationships, and got whirled around the dance floor like nobody's business. From the music, to food, to the décor, the evening was truly celebratory. </div>
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The ACHA’s mission is to preserve Czech culture. If it was other Texas Czech organizations, I might be tempted to correct their assertion to “Texas Czech”, not Czech, culture. But because of the music that’s played and the Czech-born chef that’s cooked for the event for 23 of the 24 years, Cesky Vecer really is rooted closer to Czech traditions than to Texas Czech traditions. And this year, of course, the event celebrated the 100th anniversary of the creation of independent Czechoslovakia after World War I, so Czech pride was palpable in the room.</div>
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Walking into the hall, the first thing attendees saw were colorful kroj on both mannequins and actual human Texas Czechs. The kroj on the mannequins were owned by ACHA Co-Presidents Woody Smith and Helen Oelrich. The humans I met on my way in were wearing Texas Czech versions of kroj – simpler, more wearable fabrics and styles, made for the Texas heat, and cowboy boots instead of the tall, black stovepipe-shaped black leather boots worn with kroj in the Czech Republic. Women wearing cowboy boots with their kroj is my favorite regional adaptation of this folk tradition.</div>
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Chef Pavla Van Bibber is somewhat of a celebrity in Austin’s Texas Czech community. She is an expatriated Czech living in Texas for decades, and also a chef so her spectacular meals of traditional dishes are both familiar and exotic in their authenticity. The menu this year started with a colorful spread of předkrm (appetizers) including devilled eggs, chlebicky (tiny open-faced sandwiches), canapes of bread topped with sliced sausage and sauerkraut, and more.</div>
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The invitation for Cesky Vecer advertised the dinner menu in both Czech and English. </div>
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<li>Bramboravá Pórková Polévka (potato leek soup) </li>
<li>Vepřová (pork roast) </li>
<li>Knedliky (dumplings) </li>
<li>Zelí (sauerkraut) </li>
<li>Houbový Štrůdl (mushroom strudel) </li>
<li>Salát (salad) </li>
<li>Rohlík, Máslo (bread, butter) </li>
<li>Ledová Čaj (iced tea) </li>
<li>Horká Káva (hot coffee) </li>
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Pavla is a pastry chef by trade, teaching at Austin’s Auguste Escoffier School of Culinary Arts. Her dessert plate shined with four or five different Czech specialties including a slice of strudel, bread pudding with slivovice sauce, a small kolac, and one of Pavla’s specialties… a cookie with an edible photo transfer on it. This one celebrated the 100th anniversary of the founding of Czechoslovakia. </div>
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For almost all of the years of Cesky Vecer, Kovanda’s Czech Band has provided the music, beginning the evening with the American, the Czech, and the Slovak national anthems, to which everyone sings along. Like the food at the event made by Pavla, the music also has direct roots in the Czech Republic. The band was started here in Texas in 1984 by Czech expatriate Vlastimil Kovanda, to replicate the sound of brass bands called <i>dechovka</i>. This style of music was once popular in Texas (think of the Baca Brass Band of Fayetteville in the early 20th century) but now it’s only played by a few bands.</div>
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The Austin Czech Historical Association loves Kovanda’s and they reciprocate with lovingly-played waltzes, schottisches, polkas, and the night’s highlight… the Grand March. Hipster Californians-turned-Austinites might find the whole scene dorky, but dancing in the Grand March, and polka dancing in general, is close to the most fun a grown up can have. The Grand March is just that, a march of all in attendance in choreographed lines that combine, separate, and recombine in different line formations around the dance floor. It is a communal act, strengthening the ties of community members through cooperation, and following and leading simultaneously. And it so democratic. People of varied ages, political leanings, educational backgrounds, professions, economic situations, and religions smile at each other, literally hold hands, encourage younger members, slow down the lines for older ones, and just exude happiness. The March ended as we surrounded a well-known Czech-born couple in the community, Petr and Olga, as they danced to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. The music and smiles and goodwill were infectious, and goodness knows we all need that right now.</div>
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If you’re in the Austin area and want to connect to a sweet group of Texas Czechs, the ACHA holds meetings the 4th Tuesday of each month at Gethsemane Lutheran Church at 200 West Anderson Lane (on 183 between IH-35 and Lamar). The get-together begins with a meet and greet at 6:30 pm, followed by a pot luck dinner at 7 pm. Everyone brings their favorite dish or dessert or adult beverage (coffee and water are provided.) After the meal is a short business meeting, many times followed by a program of Czech interests. The next ACHA meeting is scheduled for November 27, 2018 and the ACHA’s website notes that “Everyone (Czech or just wanting to be Czech!) is welcome to come.” </div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-88531384314708275962018-10-05T12:56:00.000-07:002018-10-21T05:26:17.325-07:00How to Eat Texas Czech in October<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">October is Czech Heritage Month in Texas. What a fitting excuse to eat and learn about Czech and Texas Czech traditional foods. At the bottom of this post are several events at which you can do just that.</span><br />
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If you want to cook Czech food in October, by all means cook local and seasonal. In Texas in October, there are lots of fruits and vegetables to buy at your local farmers market that are widely used in the Texas Czech kitchen. Here are some suggestions.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">apples and pears -</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> make kolach fillings, pies, and bundt cakes, or pear preserves</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">cauliflower - make fried cauliflower or pickled cauliflower</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">cabbage - make sauerkraut, fried cabbage, <i>zelniky</i> (cabbage kolaches), slaw, or sauerkraut salad</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">okra - make stewed okra with tomatoes</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Last weekend I tried yet another sauerkraut recipe (pictured above), this one with apples and potatoes. It was just the right balance of sweet and sour and rich and tangy. I used Granny Smith apples so things didn't get too sweet and served it with pan-fried sausages and a cucumber and tomato salad, since I can still get those ingredients at the farmers market, too. Below is my adaptation of a recipe I found in the Travis-Williamson Counties Czech Heritage Cookbook.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Company Sauerkraut</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">adapted from a recipe by Ginny Prasatik Dornoff</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">1 pound of sauerkraut</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 tablespoon bacon fat</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 medium onion, chopped</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 teaspoon sugar</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1/4 teaspoon caraway seeds</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 large apple, grated</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1 cup water</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">4 small red potatoes, boiled in skins, cut up in chunks or sliced</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste</span><br />
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Drain the juice from the sauerkraut. In a skillet, saute the onion in the bacon fat until golden. Stir in the sauerkraut, sugar, caraway seeds, apple, and water. Cover and cook 10 minutes. Add the cooked potatoes, and salt and pepper to taste. Serves 6.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ginny's note to this recipe - <i>"Serve with Czech sausage for a quick drop-in Czech company meal."</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>October Events for Czech Food</b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Friday and Saturday, October 19 and 20 - LA GRANGE</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Heritage Demonstrations at the <i>Heritage Festival and Muziky</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">at the Texas Czech Heritage and Cultural Center</span><br />
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Start the weekend off on Friday night with chicken and dumplings. The organizers tell me the dumplings are a Czech bread/noodle version, not straight up Southern dumplings, and that the chicken and the dumplings are made separately and added together before serving so the dumplings aren't overcooked. Demonstrations at the festival will include noodle, butter, sausage, and wine making. What more could you want for a well-rounded Czech meal (i.e. garlicky smoked sausage with a side of buttered homemade noodles and a glass of wine.) Go learn how to old-school make the entire meal from scratch! You can also buy Weikel's kolaches at the Festival's concession stand and enjoy them while listening to this year's tribute to veteran polka band The Vrazel's. Aflred Vrazel is the ONLY Texas Czech to be inducted into the International Polka Association's Hall of Fame.</span><br />
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More info <a href="http://www.czechtexas.org/events/" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Saturday October 20 - AUSTIN</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Old School Kolaches popup</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">9-11am </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">at Confituras Little Kitchen</span><br />
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Come and taste my latest project - Old School Kolaches - when I'm hosted by Confituras Little Kitchen. I'll have traditional flavors and some topped with Confituras' heavenly jams and jellies (which you can purchase at the shop). Kolaches will be sold singly or by the half dozen. Come have a cup of coffee and say hi. So grateful to Stephanie McClenny for the opportunity.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sunday, October 21 - AUSTIN</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Cesky Vecer</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">put on by the Austin Czech Historical Association</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">3-9:30pm at Saengerrunde Hall</span><br />
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<i>Cesky Vecer</i>, hosted by longstanding group the Austin Czech Historical Association, is like the Academy Awards of Czech dinners in Austin. Attendees dress up, volunteers decorate, Kovanda's Czech Band plays, and the meal is made by beloved Czech-born chef and pastry teacher Pavla Van Bibber. This year, Pavla will be serving <i>b<span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8456" lang="en-US">ramborav</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8457" lang="en-US">á</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8458" lang="en-US"> p</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8459" lang="en-US">ó</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8460" lang="en-US">rkov</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8461" lang="en-US">á</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8462" lang="en-US"> pol</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8463" lang="en-US">é</span></i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8464" lang="en-US"><i>vka</i> (potato leek soup), <i>v</i></span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8467" lang="en-US"><i>ep</i></span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8468" lang="en-US"><i>řová</i> (</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8469" lang="en-US">pork roast), <i>k</i></span><i>nedliky</i> (dumplings), <i>z<span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8475" lang="en-US">el</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8476" lang="en-US">í</span></i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8477" lang="en-US"> (sauerkraut), <i>h</i></span><i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8480" lang="en-US">oubov</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8481" lang="en-US">ý</span></i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8482" lang="en-US"> </span><i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8483" lang="en-US">Š</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8484" lang="en-US">tr</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8485" lang="en-US">ů</span></i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8486" lang="en-US"><i>dl</i> (mushroom strudel), <i>s</i></span><i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8490" lang="en-US">al</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8491" lang="en-US">á</span></i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8492" lang="en-US"><i>t</i> (</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8493" lang="en-US">salad) <i>r</i></span><i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8496" lang="en-US">ohl</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8497" lang="en-US">í</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8498" lang="en-US">k, m</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8499" lang="en-US">á</span></i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8500" lang="en-US"><i>slo</i> (bread, butter), <i>l</i></span><i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8503" lang="en-US">edov</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8504" lang="en-US">á</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8505" lang="en-US"> </span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8506" lang="en-US">Č</span></i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8507" lang="en-US"><i>aj</i> (iced tea), and <i>h</i></span><i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8510" lang="en-US">ork</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8511" lang="en-US">á</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8512" lang="en-US"> k</span><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8513" lang="en-US">á</span></i><span id="m_6753977743915742495yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1538754141377_8514" lang="en-US"><i>va</i> (hot coffee). The meal also includes </span><span style="background-color: white;">a dessert plate with four or five different delicacies, such as a slice of strudel, bread pudding with <i>slivovice</i> sauce, some sort of cookie, perhaps a small <i>kolac</i>. </span><span lang="en-US">It's really your only opportunity every year to eat traditional Czech food in Austin. </span>Folks will gather from 3-4:30pm to visit and peruse the silent auction items. Dinner is served at 5pm and then you can polka and waltz the night away. Bring your own beer and wine (and <i>Slivovic</i> and <i>Becharovka</i>.)</span><br />
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More info <a href="http://www.austinczechs.com/cvflyer2018.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Tickets s</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">old only until October 10th.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Pavla Van Bibber's dessert display at the 2013 <i>Cesky Vecer </i>dinner</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Saturday, October 27 - HOUSTON</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Annual Czech Soup Tasting</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Czech Heritage Society Harris Co. Chapter</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">3-6pm at Episcopal Church of the Epiphany</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Czechs love soup. Eat all you the soup, bread, and tea you can at this annual event where the CHS members are doing the cooking from family recipes. Menu will include really traditional offerings of </span></span><span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; white-space: pre-wrap;">chicken noodle, liver dumpling, creamy dill, mushroom barley, and lentil soups. </span>You can also buy Czech beers and Czech, Texas Czech, and other pastries (all homemade!) and be serenaded by accordion music.</span><br />
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More info <a href="https://www.facebook.com/txchshcc/photos/a.299164943581012/1023524321145067/?type=3&theater" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b>Sunday, October 28 - SCHERTZ</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; word-wrap: break-word;"><i>Bexar County Czech /Slovak Festival</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">11:30am-4pm at </span><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mikulski Hall</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Bexar County CHS Chapter serves the iconic Texas Czech event meal:</span></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> sausage from Prasek's, along with potatoes made with onions, sauerkraut with caraway seed and onion rue, green beans with bacon and onions (all prepared with Czech recipes), and peach slices </span><span style="background-color: white;">(that's right, canned peaches)</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. If you are a folklorist trying to understand Texas Czech food or are an archaeologist 1,000 years from now trying to get a picture of Texas Czech foodways in the late 20th/early 21st centuries, this menu would be your Rosetta Stone. It's served at Czech church picnics, weddings, funerals, school fundraisers, and cultural preservation events. And you, too, can enjoy it on October 28th, the actual centennial anniversary of the founding of Czechoslovakia after World War 1. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; word-wrap: break-word;">You'll also enjoy the requisite culture and genealogy displays, polka music from Fritz Hodde, and be able to purchase k</span><span style="background-color: white;">olaches and desserts.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>More info <a href="http://bexarcountyczechheritagesociety.com/" target="_blank">here</a>. </span>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-42151317683265125812018-09-30T20:17:00.001-07:002018-09-30T20:21:17.869-07:0033rd Caldwell Kolache Festival<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In 2013 and 2015, I was a judge at the Caldwell Kolache Festival. This year, because of baking so many kolaches in the last 2 months after starting a home-based cottage food business, I decided to enter the baking contest. Though I’ve only been in business since the end of July, the proceeds I’ve made from the business just barely exceeded the limit over which I am considered a “professional.” Needless to say, baking in my apartment one pan at a time could not compete with the likes of Pearl Snap in Fort Worth (2018 Reserve Professional Grand Champion) and Zamykal Kolaches in Dallas (2018 Professional Grand Champion), both commercial bakeries cranking out huge (and huge numbers of) kolaches. I did not even place, but wasn’t surprised either.<br />
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The morning of the contest, I had my alarm set for 3:30 a.m. This was going to give me enough time to make dough for 48 kolaches, fill, and bake them, shower etc., while the dough was rising, get my 9 year old up and ready to go, and be out the door by 8am. I live in Austin and Caldwell is an hour and a half away – there was a deadline of 10am to submit one’s entries into the contest and I wanted to have plenty of time to park and get to where needed to be. My alarm did not go off and I woke up at 5:20 a.m, two hours after I needed to.</div>
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I did manage to make dough for 24 kolaches, which gave me 12 kolaches to choose from of two flavors . One must enter 6 kolaches in a flavor category that are the most uniform. I made fig kolaches (to enter into the Other Fruit category) and prune kolaches, thankfully still a category of its own, because of its distinction as one of the Big Four traditional flavors. The other three are, of course, apricot, cheese, and poppyseed. For perspective on the way the trend in flavors is going, the Grand Champions in both the nonprofessional and the professional categories did not win with one of the Big Four flavors.</div>
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My son and I barely made it to Caldwell in time and my kolaches suffered – I was very rushed and so worried about making the entry deadline that I took them out of the oven too soon. The feedback on my score sheets from the judges noted that mine weren’t golden on top and were even, gulp, underbaked. Yikes.</div>
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A few prize-winning recipes have been published from the Festival and can be seen <a href="https://www.texashighways.com/blog/item/933-kolaches">here</a> and <a href="http://ediblehouston.ediblecommunities.com/shop/czech-queen-kolache">here</a> if you’re interested in the kind of kolaches that are most favored there. </div>
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My son and I did, however, have a wonderful day at the festival. Apparently, festival organizers are trying to get a younger group of people interested in the event. There were several changes that made it more enjoyable than the last time I was there, like greater food truck diversity, polka music under a pavilion for shade, and (though I didn’t take advantage of it), a wine and beer garden tent. It also rained several times during the day, forcing us to retreat to the car a couple of times to listen to podcasts, which was a nice break for a 9-year old waiting hours and hours with me between the time we dropped the kolaches off and the award announcements at 4pm. </div>
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From the kids being pulled around in wagons to the interesting local artists selling their goods, the festival is sweet. And, since the Westfest baking contest was cancelled this year, it’s the only dedicated kolach baking contest in the state. So I’ll attend the 34th annual Caldwell Kolaches Festival next year to support it, but I’ll just eat sausage on a stick, buy crafts, polka dance, and buy other people’s kolaches. </div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-27574531032977095712018-09-14T17:44:00.003-07:002018-09-14T19:24:59.530-07:00Fairy Tales and Gingerbread<div style="text-align: center;">
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In the last few months, I’ve read a couple of books of fairy tales for grown ups--<i>The Bloody Chamber</i> by Angela Carter and <i>What is Not Yours is Not Yours</i> by Helen Oyeyemi. The latter is short stories actually, but many of them read like fairy tales, especially the very creepy “Dor<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">ni<span style="text-align: start;">č</span></span>ka and the St. Martin’s Day Goose,” a strange retelling of the classic Little Red Riding Hood and the wolf story, set in the present day. I bought the book after hearing a favorable NPR review and have been attracted to short stories lately, trying to balance my absolute love of reading with the fact that I have so little time to do it.</div>
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All I knew of the book was that it is a collection of stories built around the idea of keys and that the author is British. So I was greatly surprised when I got to the Dor<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">ni<span style="text-align: start;">č</span></span>ka story, which began with a quote in Czech from the fairy tale “The Golden Spinning Wheel,” as told by Karol Jaromír Erben (a 19th-century Czech archivist and folklorist.) Oyeyemi’s story takes place on, and in a village at the foot of, Mount Radh<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">o<span style="text-align: start;">š</span>t’</span> in northeastern Moravia, where three of my great grandfathers were born and where I’ve stood myself.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Me in 1996, standing between Czech friends from Roznov pod Radhostem.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">We're at the historic Pustevny, very near Radh<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">o<span style="text-align: start;">š</span>t</span>'.</span></div>
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The mention of Erben sparked two wonderful things. First, I remembered that I’d bought a book of Czech folk tales by Erben and Božena Němcová on a trip to the Czech Republic for my oldest son in the 1990s. So I searched for the book (I own a lot of books) and read a few stories with my younger son, including one called The Gingerbread House.</div>
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Illustration by the Czech artist Josef Lada.</div>
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Since I think of food almost continuously, I wondered if I could find any recipes for gingerbread in my Texas Czech community cookbook collection. I did find several recipes for versions of <i>perniky</i> (decorated gingerbread cookies made at Christmas) called everything from P<i>erniky</i> to Molasses Cookies to even Moravian Brown Cookies. I tried the first recipe I found for gingerbread (baked like a cake) and loved how soft it came out and how incredibly easy it was to make, but was looking for something with more intense flavor. Below is a kicked-up version with more spices, and the second attempt was just what I wanted… tender, spicy, and evocative of scenes of small children wandering through light-dappled forests following bread crumbs.<br />
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While munching on gingerbread and working on this post in my dining room/library, I Googled Karol Jaromír Erben to learn more about him. His most well known work was a book of folklore ballads, <i>Bouquet</i> (<i>Kytice</i> in Czech). <i>Kytice</i>? “Why does that sound familiar?” I thought to myself. Then the second wonderful thing happened after seeing mention of Erben’s name. I slowly turned my head to the right and looked behind me.</div>
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Two feet from my head, sitting on the bookshelf behind me, was a water-damaged 1923 copy of Kytice in Czech, published in Prague, and once owned by my great uncle, Monsignor Alois J. Morkovsky. I have many books and bits of paper, pamphlets, photos, etc. from my mother's family and since many of them are in Czech (and I don't speak Czech that well), I don't realize what I have until I'm doing research about something and suddenly a spark is made. I'll remember an author's name or realize I've got a copy of something interesting. Otherwise, I keep the books as reminders that my family values education and knowledge, and that my ancestors paved the way for my success with their very hard work, diligence, and resourcefulness... like lessons from my own family's personal folk tales. The <i>Kytice</i> book is full of lovely, black and white illustrations and my uncle’s penciled notes… notes about what? I don’t read Czech well enough to know.</div>
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But I can only deduce that studying this book, though he was a generation removed from (then) Czechoslovakia, was an endeavor worthy of much time for him. About Erben, David Vaughan of Radio Prague wrote “Erben is to Czechs what the Brothers Grimm are to German literature, and every Czech child can recite extracts from these ballads of water sprites, witches and maidens at the spinning wheel.” I don’t know if the same was true of the first couple of generations of Texas Czech children, but clearly my uncle (a first-generation Texas Czech) was interested. </div>
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If pressed to think of examples of Czech folk culture I was exposed to, folktales definitely do not come to mind. No one in my family wore <i>kroj</i>, either. But the men in my family played <i>taroky</i>. My maternal grandparents spoke Czech, though not really in front of us grandchildren much. Of course, I grew up with Texas Czech foodways. Two of my uncles played in bands and my parents definitely took us to polka dances growing up. At weddings, we’d do the Grand March. My maternal grandmother, Anita Morkovsky Kallus (1915-2012), spoke Czech as her first language and knew several children’s rhymes. I’m grateful to my 31-year-old self for having filmed her with my son (held by my mother) in 1999.</div>
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The translation of the rhyme my grandmother is saying is:</div>
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Kovej, kovej, kovaricku (Shoe, shoe, little blacksmith,)</div>
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Okovej my mou nozicku (Shoe my little foot.)</div>
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If you’re interested, too, in Karel’s book <i>Bouquet,</i> there are wonderfully fascinating interviews by Radio Prague with two women who did English translations of the book, <a href="https://www.radio.cz/en/section/books/susan-reynolds-and-the-music-of-karel-jaromir-erbens-poetry">Susan Reynolds</a> and <a href="mailto:https://www.radio.cz/en/section/books/karel-jaromir-erben-a-not-quite-so-grim-fairytale">Marcela Sulak (</a>who’s actually a Texas Czech poet and professor who now lives and works in Israel.) I ordered a copy of Sulak’s translation <a href="http://www.twistedspoon.com/bouquet.html" target="_blank">here</a> and when it comes, I’ll read it to my son while we’re eating gingerbread and maybe listening to Dvorak’s Water Sprite on Spotify.<br />
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And I’ll think of these words from Jaroslav Victor Nigrin, in his forward to an edition of Czech folk tales published in 1921 by the Czechian Literary Society Chicago … “Let us read and study our tales—<i>pohadky</i>—not only for their contents, but also remembering that they are expressions of dreams and hopes of our fathers while they toiled for the better present; let us, as we read them, work and hope for a still brighter tomorrow, when true happiness and peace will be found not only in the tales but in the hearts of all people.”</div>
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<b><b>Gingerbread</b></b></div>
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Adapted from Angel Gingerbread by Mrs. Mary Kovar in the cookbook <i>Kitchen Treasures</i>, compiled by the Christian Sisters’ Society of the Rosenberg Brethren Church, 1976</div>
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1 egg</div>
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¼ c. vegetable oil</div>
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1 cup flour</div>
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½ cup sugar</div>
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¼ teaspoon salt</div>
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1/2 teaspoon cloves</div>
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2 teaspoons cinnamon</div>
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1 teaspoon allspice</div>
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2 teaspoons ginger</div>
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1 teaspoon nutmeg</div>
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¼ cup molasses</div>
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1 teaspoon baking soda</div>
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½ cup boiling water</div>
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powdered sugar</div>
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Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Beat the egg and add the oil. Sift the dry ingredients and then add to the egg/oil mixture, beating thoroughly.</div>
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Then add the molasses. Dissolve the baking soda in boiling water; add to the larger mixture and beat until smooth. Pour into a greased 8-inch square baking pan.</div>
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Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes.</div>
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Dust with powdered sugar after the gingerbread has cooled and slice into squares to serve.</div>
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<b><b>Sources</b>:</b></div>
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<a href="mailto:https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt%3Fid=inu.30000118486111;view=1up;seq=5">Ceske Pohadky: Czechian Folklore</a>, Volume 2 of a series called Czechian Classics, Jaroslav Victor Nigrin, editor, published by the Czechian Literary Society Chicago, 1921</div>
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<i>Krasna Amerika: A Study of the Texas Czechs, 1851-1939</i>, Clinton Machann and James W. Mendl, Eakin Press, Austin, 1983<br />
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Top photo: <span style="text-align: center;">Woman in Red (London, 2017). Photo by my photographer/son, <a href="https://dougalcormie.tumblr.com/">Dougal Cormie</a></span><span style="text-align: center;">.</span></div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-64965629914076327932018-08-31T18:19:00.001-07:002018-08-31T18:19:05.336-07:00Breakfast for Dinner (Texas Czech Style)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On a recent trip to my local farmers’ market, the words “Czech sausage” jumped out at me from Richardson Farms’ chalkboard sign in front of their booth. Richardson Farms is near Rockdale, but they sell their meats, poultry, and grains at several farmers markets around the state and at a few brick and mortar markets in Austin. Richardson Farms’ makes fresh pork sausage, which means it’s not cured. Though fresh sausage can be stuffed into a casing or loose, I think of fresh Czech sausage as specifically loose, and then cooked by pan frying it. What makes the sausage “Czech” according the always-super-nice guys working the Richardson Farm’s booth?... garlic. Lots of it. I bought a pound, so excited to find the flavors of Czech Texas creeping across party lines, but staying authentic to it’s origins.<div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">My younger son at Austin's Sunset Valley Farmers Market run by<br style="text-align: start;" /><span style="text-align: start;">the Sustainable Food Center.</span></span></td></tr>
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This find coincided with reading some pages in Robert Skrabanek’s book We’re Czechs in which he described a typical family breakfast growing up in the Czech community of Snook in Burleson County in the 1920s and 30s. Here is Skrabanek’s description:</div>
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"Papa would start by first serving himself from large platters of food. These made their rounds, in order, from him to the last person. Our plates were normally heavily laden with freshly fried eggs (with lots of grease clearly visible); bacon or ham (also with lots of fat); a choice of honey, jelly, or sorghum syrup; and homemade bread and butter. We also had plenty of fresh raw milk. If we happened to have a block of ice in the icebox, we chipped off pieces and put them in our milk, But if not, we drank it while it was still warm. Other than salt and pepper, everything was grown or prepared by us on our farm and in our kitchen."</div>
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Though Skrabanek mentions bacon or ham, I decided to stage his family breakfast for my boys with my farmers’ market sausage as a substitute. Below are my stand-ins for the whole Skrabanek breakfast menu and we ate breakfast for dinner so I had all afternoon to bake bread, make butter, and clean up.</div>
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<b>Fried Eggs </b></div>
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Fried eggs are fried eggs. I assume the eggs served at Skrabanek’s family table had “lots of grease clearly visible” because they were fried in the bacon grease left after it had been fried. I had bacon grease in my freezer, so fried mine in that, too. I used about a teaspoon for two eggs.</div>
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<br /><b>Bacon or Ham</b><br />I cooked Richardson Farms’ Czech Style Fresh Pork Sausage instead, slicing it up making roughly 3” diameter patties from the pound package. It shrank a LOT during cooking, but was delicious and tasted very much like the "pan" sausage I'd had at relatives' sausage-making event. The family made hundreds of pounds of sausage each winter. But during the day-long activity of grinding, seasoning, stuffing, and smoking, family members would reserve some sausage to fry into patties and eat while working. The sausage was seasoned with nothing but salt, pepper, and garlic.</div>
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I fried the sausage in one of my prized possessions… a cast iron skillet branded with the Southern Foodways Alliance logo on the bottom. I worked hard for this pan by volunteering for the SFA’s annual conference in Oxford Mississippi about a million years ago (otherwise know as the late 1990s.) The conference was pivotal in my evolution to wannabe food blogger/writer/speaker.</div>
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<b>Honey, Jelly, or Sorghum Syrup </b></div>
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I don’t keep bees (though some of my Texas Czech relatives did). So we instead ate grape jelly I made from grapes in my grandmother’s backyard (yes, I picked them, juiced them, and made jelly from the juice) and homemade molasses I got as part of a silent auction lot of canned goods I won at the Migl family reunion last October in Praha. The molasses drizzled on the sausage patties was sweet-savory, rich, salty, and greasy (in the best way.)</div>
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<b>Homemade Bread</b><br />For the bread, I used a recipe from the Czech Heritage Cookbook published in 2014 by the Ascension of Our Lord Catholic Church Altar Society in Moravia, Texas. The recipe is by friend Gene Marie (Halata) Bohuslav. (My mother calls the cookbook “Gene Marie’s cookbook”, since she contributed so many recipes to it.) I cut the recipe in half so I ended up with only one loaf, but clearly I could have made two out of that. The bread rose so strangely. I think it had to do with the way I kneaded it and set it in the pan. I buttered the top of the dough, but then that layer got lifted up because it rose so much. I need to keep practicing. Below is the full recipe.</div>
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<u>Homemade Bread</u><br />-Gene Marie Bohuslav, in memory of mother, Emilie Halata<br /> <br />2 packages dry yeast<br />2 tablespoons sugar<br />1 teaspoon salt<br />6 to 6 ½ cups flour<br />1 ¼ cup warm water<br />1 cup warm water<br />3 tablespoons oil<br /> <br />Dissolve yeast in 1 ¼ cups warm water. Stir in 1 additional cup of warm water, sugar, salt, oil and flour. Beat until smooth. Let rise until dough has doubled in size. Knead until smooth, then let rise again. Divide into 2 or 3 loaves; pace in greased loaf pans. Let rise again. Bake in 400 degree oven for 30 minutes. </div>
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<br /><br /><b>Homemade Butter</b></div>
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For the butter, I made it in my KitchenAid using this fantastic <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmin9PBXP_g">video</a> as the guide. It was the all-time, without a doubt, messiest cooking project ever (because I don't have a splatter shield for my mixer. But it was worth it! My younger son helped and was really interested in the process, but mostly the eating afterwords on a cracker, declaring "Butter! Best butter ever." Know that I added a 1/2 teaspoon salt right before the final rinse (which will make sense if you watch the video), but feel it could have been a teaspoon. I know salted butter isn't everyone's thing, but I could eat it as a first course to a meal. It's interesting that when I told my older son I was going to make butter for the dinner, he said "Oh, yeah, we did that in a jar in third grade." For my urban kids, making butter is a science experiment basically, but for older Czechs who grew up on farms it was a chore.</div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-21570461556086536782018-08-23T10:36:00.004-07:002022-05-05T12:03:55.617-07:00What I Learned Making 600 Kolaches<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OnynnXK02lk/W37iMzMu0ZI/AAAAAAAAGFA/ut5VBw-rFoIDOB9HKcSXlvImrJARvUOdgCLcBGAs/s1600/Dawn_With_Pan_of_Kolaches_Aug2018.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OnynnXK02lk/W37iMzMu0ZI/AAAAAAAAGFA/ut5VBw-rFoIDOB9HKcSXlvImrJARvUOdgCLcBGAs/s640/Dawn_With_Pan_of_Kolaches_Aug2018.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Lori Najvar.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The last week in July, I launched a home baking business called Old School Kolaches, <span style="font-size: 12pt;">offering
pans of made from scratch kolaches, delivered to customers' doors. I got laid off in April and in reaction to scrolling endlessly through disheartening job boards at 50 years old, I decided I'd try doing something I'm good at and passionate about that might also pay some of my bills (work and love don't always go together unfortunately.) It remains to be seen whether this can be instead of or in additional to a standard 9 to 5 job for me.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Austin, though it's the state capitol, is a wasteland when it comes to traditional kolaches. The one place I went to here that had decent kolaches closed down only weeks ago. There are instead two kolache bakery </span><span style="font-size: 16px;">chains</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">, countless donut shops that offer hotdogs wrapped in croissants or tasteless dough and call them kolaches, or one hipster beer and kolaches place that "elevates the classic Central Texas Czech pastry to gourmet status" (from their website.) Though their "kolaches" are delicious, with fillings like pepperoni pizza and PB+J, they are anything but traditional. I agree that kolaches from local factory chains need to be elevated, but well-made traditional kolaches do not. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">And I'm trying to make a </span><span style="background-color: white; background: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: 0.25pt;">kolach just like someone's Texas Czech grandmother used to make with rich, pillowy, yeasty, sweet-salty dough and fillings with absolutely nothing in them but dried fruit, sugar, real butter, and spices. There really is no comparison between uncompromising homemade kolaches and everything else—mine are not gluten free, not vegan, not fat free, and I won't make any fillings my ancestors wouldn’t recognize. Because of cottage food industry laws in Texas, I can't sell cream or cottage cheese fillings, so I make peach, prune, apple, fig, pecan, poppyseed, and apricot fillings
using fresh and dried fruits, butter, sugar, spices, and hand ground
poppyseeds. (And these are kolaches, not klobasniks, so there’s no sausage.) </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.333333px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've had fantastic response to my efforts so far and I've made A LOT of kolaches... almost 600, baking one to three pans a day. I thought I would offer below some of the things I've learned in the last month. I want more Texas Czechs to feel empowered to make real Texas Czech kolaches and ensure that this regional food stays authentic and owned by the community from which it sprang. Ask m</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">e questions or have me do a baking class at your house for your family. If I can bake them, so can you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background: white; letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"><o:p>And more shameless plugging - if you're in Austin and need kolaches, please see my <a href="http://www.atmemorystable.com/kolaches" target="_blank">website</a> to order. </o:p></span><span style="background-color: white; background: white; letter-spacing: 0.25pt;">They are sold by the pan (24
kolaches) for $60 including delivery in South and Central Austin only,
Monday-Friday. </span><span style="background-color: white; background: white; letter-spacing: 0.25pt;">Sweeten your staff meeting, butter up
your customers, or make your play group members swoon with a pan of warm
kolaches. I'm working out the kinks for shipping them by the dozen, so if you're outside Austin and want some, sign up on my mailing list on the <a href="http://www.atmemorystable.com/kolaches" style="letter-spacing: 0.333333px;" target="_blank">website</a> and I'll let you know when I'm ready. <i>- Retraction 8/24: Texas cottage food law prohibits mail order so, I won't be shipping delicious kolaches anywhere. :(</i></span></span></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What I learned making 600 kolaches in a month</span></h3>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1) <b>Practice makes perfect (or at least better)</b>. From consistently rolling the dough balls into a perfect shape to getting a 4x6 grid of kolaches in straight lines, the more you do it, the easier and faster the process gets. It matters visually and it matters to how well the kolaches hold their fillings. You don't want to be the last person to the office break room and end up with the tiny kolach in the corner of the pan with the filling oozed out the side.</span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WKk691TGN68/W37sRCxi3qI/AAAAAAAAGF0/9M4qc6wwOmwnDGxiAr0MBMVenPZue0PeACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0171.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WKk691TGN68/W37sRCxi3qI/AAAAAAAAGF0/9M4qc6wwOmwnDGxiAr0MBMVenPZue0PeACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0171.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2) </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Stay focused. </b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Distraction is the enemy of kolaches. I've done things like drop dough balls on the floor because I got too cocky about how well (fast) I was rolling them. I tried browning a pan of kolaches under the broiler because they weren't golden enough, turned away to answer a question from one of my sons, and turned back to find it practically smoking. I've dropped drips of poppyseed filling onto the dough where it wasn't supposed to be... it's impossible to get it off again and then looks unsightly. Stay focused and treat each kolach like it's the one you're going to enter into the Caldwell Kolache Festival baking contest.</span><br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IMmkLrnXDaQ/W37p1kraQfI/AAAAAAAAGFk/RSTF5SGQj3UL0LAI9T-hlWsIzWoCOBBrgCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-0046.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IMmkLrnXDaQ/W37p1kraQfI/AAAAAAAAGFk/RSTF5SGQj3UL0LAI9T-hlWsIzWoCOBBrgCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG-0046.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">3) </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Don't use a bristle baster </b><b style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">brush </b><b style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">for butter. </b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(Say that 5 times fast.)</span><b style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">No one wants a bristle stuck on the pan that then gets stuck on a kolach, that then makes it into your mouth. No matter what brand I've tried, the brushes always seem to leave a stray bristle. Best to be safe and use the silicone ones, even though you can't get a very thin film of butter with them. Again, practice, practice, practice will help you know how lightly to brush, how many kolaches you can brush with one dip in the butter, etc.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">4) <b>Butter, butter, butter, and more butter.</b> Kolaches love butter and you know you do, too. Butter the pans. Butter the spoon you use to grab hunks of dough from the bowl to roll into dough balls. Butter the spoon you use to scoop tablespoons of fillings so that you can use it to further press the indentation into the center of the dough ball easily. Butter the kolach balls as they're rising and butter them again when they come out of the oven. After 600 kolaches, I feel like everything in my kitchen and even my iPhone has a thin film of butter on it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lt6Rf9xjiHQ/W37p1kNee4I/AAAAAAAAGFQ/q6pfPTJGRUY7XDLwlBqWZWWZqVCBgDLqQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG-0044.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lt6Rf9xjiHQ/W37p1kNee4I/AAAAAAAAGFQ/q6pfPTJGRUY7XDLwlBqWZWWZqVCBgDLqQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG-0044.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">5) <b>Go with the dough (flow). </b>Though I said above in #1 that I'm trying to get faster, kolaches cannot be rushed, and they also cannot be slowed down. The process has it's own timing and you have to get into a rhythm. Remember that the dough is directing the process, not you. Simple efficiencies can help the process go smoother without rushing. Using multiple fillings? Pull out a spoon for each one so you're not washing the same spoon in between. Don't clean up as you go (unless it's during the rising or baking time.) Just shove things to the side and stay focused on the next task. Also, find the tools that work for you and use the same ones every single time (measuring cups and spoons, spatula)... you'll naturally just start reaching for t</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">he right tool without thinking and not stop and second guess your measurements. These are mine...</span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_YwdV5Vgh7U/W37p2bYPIiI/AAAAAAAAGFs/mo_1Bhu4YHQzbQjk2MDAgzJMvlLn7cIswCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-0066.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_YwdV5Vgh7U/W37p2bYPIiI/AAAAAAAAGFs/mo_1Bhu4YHQzbQjk2MDAgzJMvlLn7cIswCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG-0066.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Making a pan of kolaches from start to finish takes 3 hours, but it's not constant working time. I can now put my makeup on, make my son breakfast and walk him to the bus stop, and check my email while making kolaches every morning. I'm not bragging; I'm saying that if I can do it, so can you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">6) <b>Wear comfy shoes and stretch</b>; get anti-fatigue floor mats. Any chef will tell you to take care of your back. I don't always take my own advice, but bending over and doing a downward dog every once in while and a few of <a href="https://teeter.com/blog/5-stretches-standing-desk/" target="_blank">these</a> stretches helps a lot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tips? Arguments? Traditional filling suggestions? Please let me know.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Follow my kolach-making escapades:</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Twitter - @OSKolaches</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Instagram - old_school_kolaches</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Web - www.atmemorystable.com/kolaches</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/OldSchooKolaches/</span><br />
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<br /></div>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-8667490367018105622018-07-31T20:26:00.001-07:002018-07-31T20:26:18.198-07:00Fried Chicken<div style="height: 0px;">
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<br /><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wd45FXE2R00/W2EkXnZSPlI/AAAAAAAAGDA/1MwHf82fSB86xtE5IwvysTrJ7dVffcC-gCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_4358.JPG" /> This is a very quick post about fried chicken and a recipe offering. Summer is for fried chicken, in my opinion… Fourth of July, eating at a local park’s picnic table, and church picnics. I sadly can’t make it to this year’s <i>Prazska Pout</i> in Praha, Texas on August 15th (Praha picnic plate in photo above) and haven’t been able to attend any of the other many picnics that serve fried chicken, so I’ve been lamenting the loss of opportunity to eat one of my favorite summer dishes.<div>
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I live in a very small apartment – the smell of whatever I cook becomes my abode’s air freshener for half a day, so I rarely fry foods. So, I suppose I’ve been craving fried chicken, and writing about it helps. So does reading Jay Francis’s blog (The Fried Chicken Blog) which I recommend to anyone interested in the subject. He has fantastic photos and videos about the Praha picnic specifically <a href="http://thefriedchickenblog.blogspot.com/search/label/Praha" target="_blank">here</a>, but check out the rest of the blog, too. Clearly Texas Czechs love fried chicken from its appearance on so many church picnic menus.</div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wd45FXE2R00/W2EkXnZSPlI/AAAAAAAAGDA/1MwHf82fSB86xtE5IwvysTrJ7dVffcC-gCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_4358.JPG"><br /></a><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wh7w9E51-a0/W1U3pmSPE2I/AAAAAAAAGCE/vWPC6UwT-iAiBNl-SjI3Ss9yk9jcy_QowCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0093.JPG" /><br />My own fried chicken from my mother's recipe<br /><br /><div>
Any meat eater that’s been to the Czech Republic knows fried chicken is common in restaurants there, but from visiting I remember a chicken breast flattened into a cutlet that was breaded and fried, rather than pieces of the whole bird, bones and all. It is, in fact, my mother’s favorite dish when visiting the CR. Even so, my mother is a master at classic Southern fried chicken. Texas is in the South, right? Below is her recipe and photos of her process. I have indeed fried chicken from this recipe and can vouch for its usability. Looking forward to next summer’s fried chicken opportunities…<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V61UQ-Bo1hg/VXDR0Z-JObI/AAAAAAAAEhM/g4umHhd3uvU/s1600/IMG_1786.JPG"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V61UQ-Bo1hg/VXDR0Z-JObI/AAAAAAAAEhM/g4umHhd3uvU/s400/IMG_1786.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><b>Betty’s Fried Chicken</b><br /><br />1) Trim the fat from a chicken and cut up into smaller pieces. Rinse the pieces and pat them dry. Season each with salt and set aside. (My grandmother did not skin the chicken; my mother does. Do what you like.)<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-APfwnlA_nGs/VXDSFkwO8TI/AAAAAAAAEhs/i6xyX5BqgJM/s1600/IMG_1798.JPG"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-APfwnlA_nGs/VXDSFkwO8TI/AAAAAAAAEhs/i6xyX5BqgJM/s400/IMG_1798.JPG" /></a><br /><br />2) Fill a bowl big enough to hold the largest piece of chicken halfway with milk. Fill another of the same with flour to which you’ve added more salt and pepper.<br /><br />3) Fill a skillet to a depth of 1” with canola oil and start heating the oil to medium high.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Za3XFe0Sdnc/VXDR9VFonzI/AAAAAAAAEhg/GhIUP0nsgH4/s1600/IMG_1794.JPG"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Za3XFe0Sdnc/VXDR9VFonzI/AAAAAAAAEhg/GhIUP0nsgH4/s400/IMG_1794.JPG" /></a><br /><br />4) Dredge each piece of chicken in the seasoned flour, then the milk, then the flour a second time. Put on a plate until ready to fry.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V0L5YCB3Jmk/VXDR9RXslzI/AAAAAAAAEhc/WNhG_QQeVXk/s1600/IMG_1799.JPG"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V0L5YCB3Jmk/VXDR9RXslzI/AAAAAAAAEhc/WNhG_QQeVXk/s400/IMG_1799.JPG" /></a><br /></div>
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5. Put the pieces in the hot oil. Fry one side for roughly 10 minutes until very golden brown, Turn over until very golden brown on the other side. (White meat doesn’t take as long as dark meat. Fry the dark pieces together in one batch and the white pieces together in a second batch.)</div>
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6. Drain on brown paper bags or paper towels. Keep the first batch warm while frying the second batch.</div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-46584589677374043712018-07-09T08:26:00.002-07:002020-02-25T19:04:02.786-08:00At Memory's Table<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nyMnyHbOnuk/W0N11kPJbUI/AAAAAAAAF94/rF7R3HU1nQ8JHTu_3WIFtqODHioPARW1QCLcBGAs/s1600/AMT-1.jpg"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nyMnyHbOnuk/W0N11kPJbUI/AAAAAAAAF94/rF7R3HU1nQ8JHTu_3WIFtqODHioPARW1QCLcBGAs/s640/AMT-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I am overwhelmingly grateful to have been sitting “at memory’s table” my entire life. By that I mean, though my parents had moved me and my siblings to several states and back to Texas by the time I was in 4th grade, the people in my life were stable and family connections were so strong that absorbing our shared history was unavoidable. And food was inseparable from that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OM-0b4zd1Hc/W0N4ELvQjGI/AAAAAAAAF-g/-ZYzjnb54eAMBuAzLY65N5R8CSQJr6D6QCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_5439%2Bcopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OM-0b4zd1Hc/W0N4ELvQjGI/AAAAAAAAF-g/-ZYzjnb54eAMBuAzLY65N5R8CSQJr6D6QCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_5439%2Bcopy.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orsak family reunion</td></tr>
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My parents are fascinated by both history and food. My maternal grandmother lived in her house (and her kitchen) for over 70 years. All branches of my grandparents’ families have had reunions—for decades and decades—with fantastic food. Though my parents were adventurous eaters, we definitely grew up with weeknight staple meals that all my siblings can name and remember. Tradition is extremely important for us, resulting in a Christmas eve meal that includes dishes served continuously for over a century. Historically people have lived a long time in my family, so my parents and I and my children all grew up loving and hearing stories of the past from older, sometimes much older, people. I grew up with a strong ethnic background (Texas Czech) which grounded me in a particular community with its own history and food traditions. Each of these forces has shaped my obsessions with food, with family connections, with the vestiges of history present all around us at every moment if we're open to them, either by knowledge or by memory. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicken noodle soup at the Victoria Czech Fest</td></tr>
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Eating ginger cookies reminds me of my great aunt Bessie, who used to make sweet handmade crafts. Scrambled egg sandwiches are comforting to me because I associate them with being taken care of by my mother when recovering from an upset stomach. Czech chicken noodle soup makes me think of the joy and togetherness of church picnics and family Christmas gatherings. I assume (hope) that everyone is comforted by at least a few dishes whose smell or taste is associated with a nurturing person, happy event, or other positive memory. I believe that the recipes for dishes like these should be preserved and shared. I’ve collected cookbooks all my adult life and the ones that I look through the most reflect these things. They focus on either a particular culture or region’s food, illuminate a particular time period, or are a reflection of the author’s family. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TTJ7sJ2NOhs/W0N4fdMJqPI/AAAAAAAAF-o/dGFG9Xyeps8DkFB2dF-dfSCXanHTn_JmQCEwYBhgL/s1600/Anita_Kallus_Kitchen001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1257" data-original-width="1600" height="313" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TTJ7sJ2NOhs/W0N4fdMJqPI/AAAAAAAAF-o/dGFG9Xyeps8DkFB2dF-dfSCXanHTn_JmQCEwYBhgL/s400/Anita_Kallus_Kitchen001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandmother, Anita (Morkovsky) Kallus, in her kitchen</td></tr>
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I am offering my passion for all things food, family, and history along with my writing, organization, and planning skills in service through <a href="http://www.atmemorystable.com/" target="_blank">At Memory’s Table</a>, my new business. I want to help people record and share their own memorable dishes through a family cookbook or recipe cards, or plan a unique family reunion, or create a book or game that allows them to preserve family stories and history. The website for the business is <a href="https://www.atmemorystable.com/">here</a> and I invite you to take a look. Contact me if you’re interested in my services or keep reading my blog, which I will continue with. And thank you, readers, for your kind comments over the last 8 years of this blog. Your interest and encouragement have inspired me and I am grateful.<br />
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Since this is a food blog, I offer the recipe below for the ginger cookies I mention above, made by my great aunt Bessie (Morkovsky) Kocian.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bessie (Morkovsky) Kocian</td></tr>
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<b>Ginger Cookies</b></div>
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2/3 cup vegetable oil<br />
1 cup sugar<br />
1 egg<br />
4 tablespoons molasses<br />
2 cups flour<br />
2 teaspoons baking soda<br />
½ teaspoon salt<br />
1 teaspoon cinnamon<br />
2 teaspoons powdered ginger </div>
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Put vegetable oil in a bowl, add sugar and stir. Add egg and beat until creamy. Stir in the molasses. Sift dry ingredients together and add to the mixture. Form small balls, the size of a pecan, and drop onto a plate of white sugar. Coat the ball with sugar on all sides and place on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees until "crinkled", then place on top shelf until slightly browned. Remove from the pan while hot and place on a rack to cool.</div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-86204938479014801362018-06-30T21:24:00.003-07:002021-06-22T16:23:35.796-07:00Cucumber and Tomato Salad<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AsR-E8paWvw/WzhVGgSsVaI/AAAAAAAAF9Q/HgdTbPlnPiw477o7mR9RLJ6bjUSJc2kGQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_0164.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AsR-E8paWvw/WzhVGgSsVaI/AAAAAAAAF9Q/HgdTbPlnPiw477o7mR9RLJ6bjUSJc2kGQCEwYBhgL/s640/IMG_0164.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">My summer-in-Texas food memories are chock full of homemade ice cream, devilled eggs, barbecued chicken and pinto beans, popsicles, potato salad, Dr. Pepper, peach pie, grilled vegetables, homemade sausage, and cucumber and tomato salad, among other tasty things. These dishes were consumed at chili cook-offs, family reunions, 4th of July get-togethers, siblings’ summer birthdays, and church picnics. I was inspired to make the cucumber and tomato salad this week after buying cucumbers at the community grocery store called Hoffer’s in Hallettsville, and a friend gifting me with a large orangey-red Sungold Medley tomato from Austin’s Farm to Table company. Many stalls at my local Sunset Valley Farmer’s Market also had cucumbers and tomatoes on offer this morning. I love the vibrant colors of the dish, the spicy raw onion and crisp cucumbers, and the bright flavors that are so dependent on the summer Texas sun. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PIL_fD2SA90/WzhT1JKk-fI/AAAAAAAAF80/et-PwIwoumglkrsIsIkEfsh-wLVaJGi5QCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0170.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PIL_fD2SA90/WzhT1JKk-fI/AAAAAAAAF80/et-PwIwoumglkrsIsIkEfsh-wLVaJGi5QCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0170.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">Hairston Creek Farms' tomato display at my local farmer's market in Austin</span></td></tr>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">I think of the salad as a Texas Czech thing. "Salad" in the Czech Republic, in my experience, is nothing more than raw vegetables doused in vinegar, salt, and pepper. For several trips I took there, I actually thought cucumber-tomato-onion salad (all grated however) was the only salad served. It was that ubiquitous on restaurant menus. There were several versions at both my Orsak reunion (Ganado) and Morkovsky family reunion (Hallettsville) this last month. But I could not find a single recipe for it in my community cookbook collection. Perhaps it’s too simple for someone to think the directions warranted inclusion in a cookbook. I did find many recipes for cucumber salad (no tomatoes) with some kind of dairy product in the dressing, whether mayonnaise, Miracle Whip, sour cream, or Greek yoghurt. There were versions of the dish in </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Country Cuisine III</i><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> by the Catholic Daughters of America chapter in East Bernard, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Domaci Kucharstvi </i><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">put out by Sts. Cyril and Methodius Church in Dubina, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sharing Our Best</i><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">, the centennial cookbook by the KJZT, and the </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">SPJST 100th Anniversary Cookbook</i><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">.</span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pHxn_iLAr5s/WzhVGn8kCvI/AAAAAAAAF9M/uBGfJt4wVs88WQ-pI1oT1r2ThWb5IX19gCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_0168.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pHxn_iLAr5s/WzhVGn8kCvI/AAAAAAAAF9M/uBGfJt4wVs88WQ-pI1oT1r2ThWb5IX19gCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_0168.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">I love these versions, but when tomato is added, somehow only a vinegar-based dressing is called for. The SPJST book had the only vinegar-based tomato salad I could find and it was actually called Tomato Salad. But I substituted cucumbers for the green pepper in the original recipe and got what I wanted. The recipe was submitted by Elaine Berkovsky of Lodge 63; my variation recipe is below. I also composed the salad rather than mixing everything together because the sliced tomatoes were so pretty. </span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ReQa4OM_n0/WzhVGkoqGgI/AAAAAAAAF9E/p8P8A6H5oCkJG3p4LjgNORJQ-9uhMB6XACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0160.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ReQa4OM_n0/WzhVGkoqGgI/AAAAAAAAF9E/p8P8A6H5oCkJG3p4LjgNORJQ-9uhMB6XACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0160.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /><b>Cucumber and Tomato Composed Salad</b></span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">1 large heirloom tomato</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> 2 small cucumbers</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> 1 small onion</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> kosher salt to taste</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> cracked pepper to taste</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> ½ teaspoon sugar</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> 1 to 2 tablespoon vinegar</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Slice the vegetables and arrange in separate rows on a platter. Add the sugar to the vinegar and mix until dissolved. Sprinkle the mixture over the rows of vegetables and season with sprinkled salt and cracked pepper to taste. (I sprinkled chopped scallions on top of my salad, too, since Hoffer's had local ones for sale, but you wouldn't have to include them.)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IkpgPYJjrgk/WzhTQP18lqI/AAAAAAAAF8s/1yWR21IvTHMhph0K840evCYj4nVA1UnZQCLcBGAs/s1600/Orsak_Family_Photos008.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1017" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IkpgPYJjrgk/WzhTQP18lqI/AAAAAAAAF8s/1yWR21IvTHMhph0K840evCYj4nVA1UnZQCLcBGAs/s400/Orsak_Family_Photos008.jpg" width="253" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">My father, Steve Orsak, with his mother,<br />Irene (Zielonka) Orsak, about 1947</span></td></tr>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">For contrast, and because I love the creamy versions of cucumber salad, below is my paternal grandmother’s recipe. My grandmother, Irene (Zielonka) Orsak made this salad for regular family meals and my father, Steve, thinks it’s a Polish recipe, since Irene was Polish. She said that you put salt over the cucumbers and let them sit to “draw the poison out”, which Steve says was an old timer’s wife’s tale. My grandmother was a fantastic, expressive, hilarious storyteller, so I believe him. Of course, salting the cucumbers to help draw excess liquid out does help them stay crisper in your salad. My father would pick vegetables, including cucumbers for this salad, in his grandfather’s and his uncle Ben Parma’s gardens south of Cuero in the summers growing up. “No matter how crazy it sounds, I like my cucumbers over mashed potatoes, with fried chicken.” He told me. “That was the way my grandpa Steve (Irene’s father) ate his cucumbers.” I don’t recommend topping your mashed potatoes with this salad, but my father’s comment does speak to the power of food and memory. Summer food, summer memories.</span><br />
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><b>Irene Orsak’s Creamy Cucumber Salad</b></span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> 2 cucumbers, peeled and sliced thin</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> 2 T. salad dressing or mayo</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> Salt and pepper</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> 2 T. sour cream or cream</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> 2 T. apple cider vinegar</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"> 2 T. milk</span><br />
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif">Salt sliced cucumbers and allow to stand for 30 minutes. Pour off any liquid residue. Add vinegar and stir. Add remaining ingredients and stir again. Refrigerate for 30 minutes and serve. </span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><br /></span><br />
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-31044971592054323972018-06-27T08:25:00.002-07:002018-07-01T09:43:06.188-07:00Soup Swap/ In Praise of Teachers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Last month, at the end of my son's third grade year, parents were asked to bring soup one day for teachers to swap and take home. I looked through the list of soups people had already committed to bringing, wanting to do something different, and decided on Czech Lentil Soup (recipe below).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At the same time, for months now actually, I've been working on illustrating and self publishing my great grandfather's memoirs--that is, illustrated with photographs and personal papers of his that I've scanned. (Link below to purchase it, if you're inclined.) He was a schoolteacher in Fayette and Lavaca Counties in Texas from the mid 1890s into the 1950s. His personal papers and memoirs are a rich trove of information about Texas rural schools in the early 20th century and the Czech community at the time. From student attendance rolls to his work contracts with trustees to poems written out for students to copy for practicing handwriting, he saved an amazing number of historically-significant pieces of paper.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/alois-morkovsky/how-i-spent-85-years-of-my-life/paperback/product-23683643.html" target="_blank"><img alt="Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu." border="0" src="https://static.lulu.com/images/services/buy_now_buttons/en/book_blue2.gif?20180522063120" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As I attended end of year awards ceremonies at my son's school, sent money with him in his backpack for the class pizza party, and glanced at the livestream on Facebook of the 5th grade graduation, the contrast between Texas public school in 1917-18 and 2017-18 was remarkable, but so were the similarities.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Teachers are, a century later, still shamefully underpaid. Below is my great grandfather's teacher's contract for the 1917-18 school year when he taught in Ammansville, Texas. He made $80 a month for the months that school was in session. (In the summers, he supplemented whatever he'd saved from the school year by teaching night classes to adults in English or Czech or arithmetic.) But unlike teachers today, he was able to raise a large family (10 children) on his income. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--WYOlit8z7U/Ww6yCiXxIwI/AAAAAAAAF7I/Pdx4xe9sibcyHi4Kh6A4rFj8AkjPHA_swCLcBGAs/s640/Teacher_Contract_1917.jpg" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Teachers are still buying their own school supplies and making do with what they can pull together from the school, the parents, and their own resources. About his first teaching job in 1891, my great grandfather wrote "<span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">In those days the children did not get their
books from the state, nor was there any requirement that the books be uniform.
Each child learned from what was available. My pupils had McGuffy, Swinton, and
Appleton readers, all in the same grade. Regular attendance was not obligatory,
and children belonged in school (came of school age) at the age of 8. In
country schools you would see no children over 14.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Few of the children got as far as fifth
grade.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">The teacher who would work the
cheapest was hired; there were no funds for a decent salary.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">Few schools had living quarters for the
teachers, so they took room and board in private homes." </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Teachers still send home "souvenirs" of the school year, but look at the difference below in a hundred years.</span><br />
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<img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eb2EnZoaRDI/Ww6xkb8306I/AAAAAAAAF60/CQ69rJdcYoA1Yq-XWXzeUlufxnnFvqKHQCLcBGAs/s400/33893729_10216428547494005_3769620537169412096_o.jpg" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;" width="400" /></div>
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<span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">My son above with a souvenir of his 3rd grade year... an envelope covered in positive words that his friends identified with him and an "award" inside for being voted the Best Teller of Stories in the class.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At left, is the souvenir my grandfather paid to have printed for his students in 1908, which, in contrast, is so formal and serious. The souvenir is two pages, the top page is on the left, and the page on the right was underneath. A ribbon was tied through the holes at the top to keep the two cards together. A plain sheet of vellum was sandwiched between them. (If your grandparent or great grandparent attended Grieve school in 1908, contact me and I'll send you a scan of the image above. The pupils' names are listed on the souvenir.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My great grandfather doesn't mention whether students ever brought food to him at school, but I always try to oblige when my son's school hosts lunches for the teachers, has potlucks in class, or asks for pies for teachers to take home at Thanksgiving. And by dishing up something Czech, I'm honoring my son's family heritage. I think of my great grandfather wrangling kids of multiple ages in an unairconditioned school house in the Texas heat with limited resources. (See photo at the top of this post of my great grandfather's class in Praha, Texas in the early 20s.) All praise Texas teachers, past and present!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Czech Lentil Soup</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">by Joe Novosad</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">from <i>Travis-Williamson Counties Czech Heritage Cookbook</i>, 1996</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1 (8 oz.) pkg. lentils</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1 qt. cold water (*I used chicken broth)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1 lg. carrot</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2 sticks celery (opt.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1 T. cooking oil</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1 med. onion, chopped</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1 T. flour</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">salt, to taste</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">garlic (opt.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In a pot, soak lentils overnight with just enough water to just barely cover lentils. Then add cold water, sliced carrots, sliced celery, and bring to a boil. In a frying pan, saute onion with oil and add flour and cook until brown</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Add this thickening to boiling soup and then bring soup to simmer, and simmer until lentils and carrots are tender.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Note from J. Novosad: In the Czech Republic, they add finely chopped clove of garlic to the soup with the carrots.</i></span></div>
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-->Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-7306387524114957312018-05-09T14:35:00.004-07:002018-05-09T14:40:34.854-07:00Razor Blade (Green Grape) Pie<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fgEfMElbpIM/WvM_FCJRUgI/AAAAAAAAF4A/0wiD0gs4ExYfg6pL7EnwqRZ9tdW06qHIgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_9951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fgEfMElbpIM/WvM_FCJRUgI/AAAAAAAAF4A/0wiD0gs4ExYfg6pL7EnwqRZ9tdW06qHIgCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_9951.JPG" width="640" /></a>Behind my grandmother's house in Hallettsville, TX grows an epic grape vine. As far as my mother knows, it's at least 70 years old since she's 71 and it's been there as long as she can remember. It's impossible to tell where the vine actually comes out of the ground or where the end of the vines reach, since they're draped and snaked around and through and over a chinaberry or hackberry tree and onto a huge oak in front of the barn. It's a source of wonder for my 9-year old who sees the mass of leaves and branches as a combination shady fort / animal graveyard (found an entire large animal's skeleton underneath) / potential snake lair.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aWo-PjxMGvY/WvNSiztcGRI/AAAAAAAAF40/-Efd5QuRl9YFAs7NgiI3Gt1Gk92yl1Q1ACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_9948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aWo-PjxMGvY/WvNSiztcGRI/AAAAAAAAF40/-Efd5QuRl9YFAs7NgiI3Gt1Gk92yl1Q1ACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_9948.JPG" width="400" /></a>I talked with the extremely nice Lavaca County A&M AgriLife Extension agent in hopes of identifying the variety of grapes. A quick internet search of photos of leaf shapes revealed that they're muscadine, not mustang grapes, but when they're ripe, they're white/green, not the bronze or purple named in A&M literature about muscadine grapes. The agent was also perplexed, so I emailed photos. The verdict is still out. I proudly told him the vine's been there since before my mother was born and he kindly informed me that there are a lot of those kinds of vines in Lavaca County. Whether the vine was planted by my grandparents in the late 1930s or, as my cousin Zoy speculated, it grew from the seeds of far away grapes first eaten and then pooped out by a wandering animal, we'll never know.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MDAro2MEjYc/WvNSV9N4yxI/AAAAAAAAF4s/Ha6iTl8JjNQm-cwPyOi8oZr6x7DGVkBNQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_9947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MDAro2MEjYc/WvNSV9N4yxI/AAAAAAAAF4s/Ha6iTl8JjNQm-cwPyOi8oZr6x7DGVkBNQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_9947.JPG" width="400" /></a>Last weekend my mother and son and I picked enough grapes for two razor blade (green grape) pies, in which a sweet custardy filling suspends sour, unripe grapes. Right now, my grandmother's grapes are still small and very tart, and the seeds are just developing, which is exactly how you want them to be for the pie. (The grapes will be ripe and sweet and ready for jelly or wine making in late June most likely.) I found at least a couple of recipes in community cookbooks at the house, but then my mother magically produced my grandmother's own recipe from a plastic bin of handwritten recipes we have yet to really go through. My grandmother continues to assist and watch over us in her house, though she passed away in 2012. Her recipe listed ingredients, but had no procedures, so we turned to a recipe by Mary Stary of Yoakum in the cookbook <i>Sharing Our Best</i>, published by the KJZT in 1994. We combined Ms. Stary's instructions and recipe for the posipka topping with my grandmother's list of ingredients for the filling.<br />
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Later, my mother texted me about eating the pie... "Thanks for the step back in time. Biting into a mouthful of those green grapes was yummy and mixed with emotion remembering Mother."<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4pye7lILoZ4/WvNSjNmSvfI/AAAAAAAAF48/XzRRYFyCHyMoBCG4FGOCi3Qc-01k7oKZgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4pye7lILoZ4/WvNSjNmSvfI/AAAAAAAAF48/XzRRYFyCHyMoBCG4FGOCi3Qc-01k7oKZgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_1351.jpg" width="300" /></a>Though the flavor elicited delicious memories for my mom, I made the pie a second time and reduced the amount of sugar and increased the amount of grapes, because, really, the pie was awfully sweet. In general, I prefer not-too-sweet sweets and the zinginess of the unripe grapes was begging to be highlighted more. Increasing the amount of grapes warranted a deep dish crust, too, so below is the final recipe, un-sweetened a bit from my grandmother's version, with process photos.<br />
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What I love about the pie is the sweet-tartness, like eating lemon bars or key lime pie. I also love the "treat" aspect of the pie because it can only be eaten at a certain time of the year and you have to have or know someone who has grape vines. You can't walk into HEB or go to a farmer's market for unripe grapes (as far as I know.) In a food culture where we can have anything any time of the year if we want it, it's nice to eat by the seasons every once in a while.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">I could not find even one single reference to "razor blade pie" on the internet among the billions and billions of bits of information out there. I don't know if my grandmother made up the name (it's sharp!), or where it came from. If anyone else has heard of this name for green grape pie, please let me know. Otherwise I just copyrighted it. :)</span><br />
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<b>Razor Blade (Green Grape) Pie</b><br />
adapted from recipes by Anita Kallus and Mary Stary<br />
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2 cups green grapes, washed and stems removed<br />
1 cup sugar<br />
1/3 cup flour<br />
2 eggs<br />
1/2 cup juice (from simmering the grapes)<br />
a deep dish pie crust<br />
posipka (recipe below)<br />
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Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Simmer grapes in water to cover until just tender. Drain (reserving 1/2 cup "juice") and set aside. Sift the flour into the sugar and combine. Beat the two eggs well, then add the juice to them and mix together well. Mix the flour-sugar mixture and the eggs-juice mixture together in a large bowl. Add the drained grapes and combine well.<br />
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Pour the pie filling into your unbaked crust. (It looks to me like a pie full of creamed giant peas!)</div>
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The pie will bake for 1 hour, but set your timer for 30 minutes when you put it in the oven and make your posipka while it bakes.</div>
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<b>Posipka</b></div>
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1/4 cup sugar</div>
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1/4 flour</div>
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1/4 cup softened salted butter</div>
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Combine the ingredients above first with a fork while you mash up the butter, then with your hands to really combine everything into a crumbly mixture.</div>
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After 30 minutes of baking, take the pie out and crumble the posipka evenly across the top.</div>
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Put the pie back in for another 30 minutes. Let it cool and set before you slice it.</div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V6SBjinjiE8/WvNSWBXdy0I/AAAAAAAAF4w/c_4fQA6s3x49Oj59d6m5ELlz5nbzMWKIACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V6SBjinjiE8/WvNSWBXdy0I/AAAAAAAAF4w/c_4fQA6s3x49Oj59d6m5ELlz5nbzMWKIACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0009.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Like most pies, this recipe makes 8 servings if you have little restraint, but 12 servings if you do.</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kti1VVqjKDE/WvNS-xNXM6I/AAAAAAAAF5M/CUjPpfq_eU4PZp0e8cP-C6b1BusfCQtbwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_9953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kti1VVqjKDE/WvNS-xNXM6I/AAAAAAAAF5M/CUjPpfq_eU4PZp0e8cP-C6b1BusfCQtbwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_9953.JPG" width="265" /></a></div>
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Good things happen when grandmothers and grandsons pick fruit and bake together... pie!</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">All photos above are by me except the one OF me,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">courtesy of pie lover and photographer, Lori Najvar.</span></div>
<br />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228171507899212739.post-92077631881165196132017-12-31T12:29:00.001-08:002017-12-31T12:29:05.118-08:00Vánočka<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0UlFihGV6os/WklDYyzmkNI/AAAAAAAAFxE/CEaoiOTRWbUHgDZCugCEFHAFzGwtn9TGgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_9305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0UlFihGV6os/WklDYyzmkNI/AAAAAAAAFxE/CEaoiOTRWbUHgDZCugCEFHAFzGwtn9TGgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_9305.JPG" width="213" /></span></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ADJanfenFS0/WklDhVQ8Z8I/AAAAAAAAFxI/Tjqrpgzg3fMe3vEZBZBuIa6SRiXT3br7wCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_9292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ADJanfenFS0/WklDhVQ8Z8I/AAAAAAAAFxI/Tjqrpgzg3fMe3vEZBZBuIa6SRiXT3br7wCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_9292.JPG" width="212" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Vánočka
(braided Czech yeast bread made for Christmas) may be one of the least changed
recipes in it’s 140 plus years in Texas. In fact, I found one recipe in the
K.J.T. Centennial Cookbook of 1989 (included in both English and Czech) that
states the recipe is over 100 years old (“Vanocka – Czech Christmas Twist” by
Ella Orsak Evanicky, who wrote that she made the bread just like her mother,
who died in 1949, did.) The vánočka I made this year looked exactly like that
of a friend’s mother who immigrated from the Czech Republic with great
knowledge of traditional baking and exactly like a picture in cookbook I bought
in the Czech Republic called “Czech Cookery” by Slovart Publishing, 2000. Even the
recipes I found in Czech-American cookbooks from Iowa mirror those I found in
Texas Czech community cookbooks and the few English language Czech cookbooks I
have. Interestingly the four cookbooks I have in Czech specifically from the </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Valašsko</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"> region of Moravia, from where so many Texas Czechs’ ancestors came,
have no mention of the word vánočka, which makes me wonder about the bread's regional
origins in the Czech Republic.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H7hR4g_rgA0/WklFZ-6haYI/AAAAAAAAFxo/kR-owwuCEyo4UfQ_ztwIpiY_ZmHS4jixgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_9425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H7hR4g_rgA0/WklFZ-6haYI/AAAAAAAAFxo/kR-owwuCEyo4UfQ_ztwIpiY_ZmHS4jixgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_9425.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">At the same time, like any dish transplanted to somewhere else, </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">vánočka in Texas</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"> has its variations… some of them probably highly personal to whoever varied from the traditional recipe, and then repeated the variation so many times that the new version became “traditional” for the family that ate it. Of course, this is writ large how Czech food became Texas-Czech food and it may not be possible to trace the evolution directly.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Even within one cookbook (Victoria County Czech Heritage Society’s 1992 “A Collection of Family Recipes”, the 5 vanocka recipes included, though basically the same as far as core ingredients go – eggs, yeast, milk, fat, flour, sugar, salt, raisins, nuts – varied in seasonings and the way they shaped the loaf or loaves. Some people have abandoned the intricate braiding of the traditional recipe in favor of loaf pans or simple twists. One bizarre recipe even called for baking the bread in greased 1-pound tin cans.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Between all the recipes I’ve looked at, there are variations in the fat used (lard, butter, oil); in the spices (any combination of lemon or orange zest, cinnamon, nutmeg, mace); in the fruit (raisins or no, dark or light, candied fruit or no); in the nuts (the traditional almonds or the grow-in-your-Texas-backyard pecans; and in the addition of vanilla extract or no. Some recipes call for sprinkling almonds on the outside of the loaf and some don’t. An informal poll on Facebook of Texas Czechs that still made vánočka echoed the variations I mention above.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uSEiDXtxLbA/WklCL8ly40I/AAAAAAAAFw0/pDZF930LjXwhd2ecCRzprO304NJBet4AACLcBGAs/s1600/fruit%2Bcake%2Bmix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="470" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uSEiDXtxLbA/WklCL8ly40I/AAAAAAAAFw0/pDZF930LjXwhd2ecCRzprO304NJBet4AACLcBGAs/s200/fruit%2Bcake%2Bmix.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I
found several recipes that call for icing the loaf with powdered sugar or heavy
white icing, no doubt the traditional way of eating it for descendants of the
women who first made the choice to be so sweetly extravagant. For those
families, the vánočka must seem more like Christmas cake and on the flip side,
my mother likes vánočka a couple of days old and drier because she likes to dip
it in her hot coffee. My mother did not bake vánočka when I was growing up, but
her mother did. My grandmother broke with
tradition by including the candied fruit found at grocery stores during the
holidays for fruit cake (candied
cherries, pineapple, citron, lemon peel and orange peel.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uSEiDXtxLbA/WklCL8ly40I/AAAAAAAAFw0/pDZF930LjXwhd2ecCRzprO304NJBet4AACLcBGAs/s1600/fruit%2Bcake%2Bmix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></a><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uSEiDXtxLbA/WklCL8ly40I/AAAAAAAAFw0/pDZF930LjXwhd2ecCRzprO304NJBet4AACLcBGAs/s1600/fruit%2Bcake%2Bmix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Below is the recipe I used this year for <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">vánočka</span>. I made two variations. I put the raisins in a bowl with ½ a cup
of rum the night before to soak overnight (and drain them before adding to the
dough – save the rum to add to your cup of coffee or eggnog!) And I braided the
loaf traditionally, which is to use 4 “ropes” on the bottom layer, three for
the middle, and two twisted together for the top layer. (See this fantastic <a href="mailto:https://www.youtube.com/watch%3Fv=RP6j7esQyjk">video</a> for how
to braid a four-strand loaf for the bottom layer.) If the loaf starts to brown
too quickly on top, loosely lay a sheet of aluminum foil over the top. I was
very happy with the bread except that the top twist fell over while it was
baking. Apparently one can insert toothpicks or skewers into the ends and
center of the loaf to avoid this. Also, you can use the side of your hand to
make a shallow depression down the center of each layer, in which the next braid
will sit on top.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I read many comments from recipe writers or
food article authors making a big deal about it making <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">vánočka </span>being a lot of work. It is and it isn’t. It does take hours
between proofing the yeast and taking the baked bread out of the oven, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but most of that time is the bread rising or
baking, during which I’m doing other things (taking a shower, working on
another dish). I made the <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">vánočka </span>the morning of Christmas Eve this
year and it did not prevent me from doing other things (I know how to
multitask.) Actually braiding the loaf takes time but that’s the FUN part.
Anyone who loves baking can surely identify with that. And what a sense of
accomplishment to see the raw ingredients through my handiwork and care, turn
in to a gorgeous, golden, puff of deliciousness channeling my ancestors and connecting
my family with their heritage. That’s not work, if you ask me, it's pleasure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As Ella Orsak Evanicky wrote at the end of
her recipe in the KJT cookbook, “This gives a lot of work but it is well worth
it for it is something that lasts long and will not spoil easily. It is also
good to put in the deep freeze, for when you take it out and let it thaw, it
tastes so fresh. So I wish you all the luck with this Vanocka.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><b>Christmas Bread</b><br />by Agnes Houdek of Dallas<br />found in “The Melting Pot: Ethnic Cuisine in Texas,” published by The Institute of Texan Cultures, San Antonio, TX, 1977<br /><br />2 yeast cakes<br />1 cup milk<br />2 teaspoons sugar<br />1 stick butter<br />½ cup sugar<br />½ teaspoon salt<br />2 eggs<br />2 egg yolks<br />5 cups flour<br />½ cup light raisins<br />½ cup blanched almonds, chopped<br />1 egg beaten<br />1 tablespoon milk</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Crumble yeast into lukewarm milk (if dry yeast is used, dissolve in a small amount of milk first), add the 2 teaspoons sugar and let rise. Cream the butter, sugar, salt, and 2 eggs plus the 2 egg yolks. Add half of the flour and mix well. Add the yeast mixture and mix in the remainder of the flour. Mix well, then turn out on floured board and knead thoroughly until the dough is smooth. Place in a bowl and cover. Let rise in a warm place about 1 ½ hours or until double in bulk. Turn out on floured board again and knead, adding the raisins and almonds. Divide the dough into 6 even parts. Roll each piece into a 15 inch rope. Place 3 ropes on a well-greased baking sheet, sealing together at one end. Braid the ropes and the seal the other end. Twist together two of the remaining ropes and place on top of braid. Finally, twist the remaining rope and place on top of the two. Let rise again for about an hour, then brush the dough lightly with a mixture of beaten egg and milk. Bake at 350 degree for 45 minutes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Leftover </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">vánočka </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">makes fantastic French Toast (and a turkey and havarti sandwich, pictured above.) Below is a recipe based on the French Toast recipe in The Martha Stewart Living Cookbook.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Vánočka
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Slice 4 slices from the <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">vánočka</span>, each about 3/4 “ thick. Beat a couple of eggs with about 1/3 cup
milk, a pinch of salt, a tablespoon of sugar and any of these things that
strike your fancy… cinnamon, nutmeg, orange or lemon zest, a little rum. Pour
the egg mixture into a shallow dish that will allow you to lay flat your slices
of bread. Soak the slices a couple of minutes on each side. Meanwhile, heat
butter in a pan over medium heat. Cook the coated bread slices 2 to 3 minutes
per side until they’re golden brown. Serve with butter, syrup, jam or jelly,
honey, powdered sugar or however you like them.</span></div>
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Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06155760748837413665noreply@blogger.com3