Monica Pope's Texas Czech dinner at the Foodways Texas symposium in Austin. |
When it
rains, it pours. I was fortunate enough to participate in three
different events in the last three weekends regarding work to highlight and
preserve Texas Czech culture. I’m tired, but I’ve been inspired, encouraged,
and challenged. Any one of these events deserves its own blog post, but
I have a backlog of things I’d like to write about, so I’ll cover all three
together in this post. Rather than acting like a reporter documenting the
events, I’d like to offer some of the questions I’ve been formulating after
listening to and connecting with really interesting and passionate folks the
last three weeks doing their own cultural preservation work.
My first Texas Foklore Society Annual Meeting... the Society's 100th! So honored. |
At the Texas Folklore Society 100th Annual Meeting the first weekend in April, I presented a paper I called “Texas Czech Foodways: More Than Kolaches.” I wanted to give the group of folklorists, writers, and historians an idea about the richness of traditional Texas Czech food. My paper was only one of two focusing on foodways at the meeting, but I learned so much about what makes a great presentation and how to hold the audience’s interest by listening to other presenters on topics that ranged from Irish cowboys to April Fools Day jokes in the Victoria Advocate newspaper. My paper’s premise is that the easiest way for non-Czechs to be exposed to Texas Czech food is by visiting the bakeries and meat market/barbecue restaurants around the state. But what other places and events should I recommend the next time I do such a presentation? Church picnics and festivals surely. Family farms that sell produce, eggs, and noodles, too? The very few restaurants in Texas that claim to have Czech or Texas Czech dishes on their menu?
Sausage at Moravian Hall in Corn Hill, made by members just for their annual event. |
In turn, I
was also questioned by audience members. What festivals and picnics did I know
of that made their own sausage especially for their event? Was I aware of the
small, but potent Czech community in west Texas whose food traditions are still
going strong at places like St. Ambrose Church in Wall, St. Joseph’s in Rowena,
and St. Boniface’s in Olfen? I was not aware, but am grateful that I now know.
Road trip!
The next
weekend, I sat on a panel called “Gender
Roles in Texas Czech Home Kitchens” with four other Texas Czechs as part of
the 6th annual Foodways Texas Symposium. The panel included
moderator/writer Sarah Junek, baker and Caldwell Kolache Festival founder Lydia
Faust of Snook, Texas A&M professor Clint Machann who literally “wrote the
book” about Texas Czechs (Krasna Amerika:
A Study of the Texas Czechs 1850-1939), and the owner of the Old Main
Street Bakery in Rosenburg, Nicholas Maresh. (Photo below.) We talked about men and women's roles on the farm 60 or 70 years ago, and the fact that half the kids Lydia now teaches how to bake at her local SPJST lodge are boys.
Left to right: me, Clint Machann, Lydia Faust, Sarah Junek, and Nicholas Maresh. |
The most thought provoking
questions from the audience seemed the simplest, too. Which kolach flavors are
“original” or came first, and what is the traditional fat used in kolach dough?
Lard, Crisco, butter, vegetable oil? A case could be made for all of them
because, of course, the word “traditional” is so subjective. One person’s
“traditional” recipe from their grandmother, who embraced the joys of Crisco
when it was introduced in 1911, is not another person’s idea of traditional. Is
there such thing as THE traditional kolach in Texas?
Great bakers of two generations. |
The speaker that
followed our panel—Monica Perales of the University of Houston—gave a talk about
Mexican-American women and their food work that had direct parallels with my
investigations into Texas Czech foodways. I couldn’t take notes fast enough
during Monica’s presentation. How did the choices that Texas Czech women made
in feeding their families help strengthen or dissolve their children’s Texas
Czech identity? When they decided what foods to prepare, how to accommodate
children’s tastes, how to save time in the kitchen by using a new product or
gadget, they were doing “cultural work” too, in that what they served at their
tables would collectively and over time effect Texas Czech food’s power to be a
marker of cultural identity. Were the same choices being made in the
community’s “home kitchens” – church picnics, KC halls and various festivals?
Who was the first Texas Czech who decided to use cream cheese in kolaches and
when? Or coconut in strudels? What brands of noodles were offered to homemakers
in Texas Czech communities who didn’t want to make their own?
Kitchen in the Migl house on the grounds of the TCHCC in La Grange. |
A fascinating presentation by Brandon Aniol of the Landmark Inn historic site in Castroville got me thinking about historically accurate cooking demonstrations in the house of my great-great-grandparents (who were Migls), which was moved to the grounds of the Texas Czech Heritage and Cultural Center in La Grange. Could I learn to bake kolaches in a wood-burning oven while wearing long skirts without using my KitchenAid? Imagine the upper body strength and stamina our ancestors had! Aniol also talked about the difficulty of replicating past ingredients. An audience member mentioned making one’s own yeast. Did my Czech ancestors do that? Did they make kolaches from dewberries if they were growing wild along fences? Were some recipes I’ve found for venison in community cookbooks from Texas Czech areas really a traditional Czech preparation?
Monica Pope and her Chicken Schnitzel |
The
celebrated Houston chef Monica Pope (Sparrow Bar + Cookshop), who had a Czech grandmother, prepared the
last dinner of the symposium… her own delicious take on Texas Czech flavors. During
Monica’s dinner I wondered how far someone could take the commonly associated ingredients
of Czech food—garlic, dill, poppyseeds, cabbage, vinegar—and still call a dish Czech?
This has direct bearing on the current cultural discussions about bastard
kolach flavors (I use the term “kolach” loosely) like saag paneer, bacon and
brie, and even Nicholas Maresh’s cream cheese and chocolate. These thoughts
were in my head as I savored Monica Pope’s cole slaw with poppyseed dressing, chicken
schnitzel, and noodles with fresh dill.
A little polka from the Czech Melody Master to accompany Pope's meal. |
For more information about the Foodways Texas event, see two great blog posts by Kelly Yandell and by Abby Johnston.
This last weekend on April 17th, Lori Najvar and I hosted an absolutely fascinating music program at the Texas State Capitol Extension Auditorium in Austin by accordionists and music scholars Frances Barton and Dr. John Novak on the sources of seven of the Texas Czech community's most beloved "folk" songs. There were 125 people in attendance, which we all considered a triumph of marketing, word of mouth, and the popularity of Texas Czech music. The lecture/demonstration was both informative and interesting, but the loveliest moment was when Frances and her daughter Jubilee sang the Wedding Song in harmony to John's accordion accompaniment. Just the night before I’d watched the recent film Brooklyn. In one scene, the main character—an Irish immigrant in the early 1950s—is transfixed and teary-eyed with homesickness, listening to another immigrant sing an Irish folk song. Hearing the Wedding Song sung by Frances and Jubilee brought tears to my eyes, too. Can someone be homesick for a place they’ve never lived (Czech Republic) and a time before they were born? I seem to be.
This last weekend on April 17th, Lori Najvar and I hosted an absolutely fascinating music program at the Texas State Capitol Extension Auditorium in Austin by accordionists and music scholars Frances Barton and Dr. John Novak on the sources of seven of the Texas Czech community's most beloved "folk" songs. There were 125 people in attendance, which we all considered a triumph of marketing, word of mouth, and the popularity of Texas Czech music. The lecture/demonstration was both informative and interesting, but the loveliest moment was when Frances and her daughter Jubilee sang the Wedding Song in harmony to John's accordion accompaniment. Just the night before I’d watched the recent film Brooklyn. In one scene, the main character—an Irish immigrant in the early 1950s—is transfixed and teary-eyed with homesickness, listening to another immigrant sing an Irish folk song. Hearing the Wedding Song sung by Frances and Jubilee brought tears to my eyes, too. Can someone be homesick for a place they’ve never lived (Czech Republic) and a time before they were born? I seem to be.
Top row: Lori Najvar, me. Bottom row: Frances Barton, Jubilee Barton, Dr. John Novak. Photo: Gary McKee. |
The questions I was asking myself as I listened to
Frances and John’s presentation were about how I could bring the same level of
scholarship and research to Texas Czech food that they’re bringing to the
community’s folk songs. Could I trace a recipe to its origin and explain why
kolaches look the way they do in Texas and what picnic stew has in common with
gulash, for example? The last three weekends have bolstered my commitment to
try.
The music program was offered in conjunction with the travelling exhibition Texas Czechs: Rooted in Tradition which is on display at the Capitol Visitors Center in Austin through June 12th.
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