On our
week off between projects we visited our Korean friend, Bongwol, in
Houston, TX. We had met at YWAM Lausanne, Switzerland in October, 2012, when we were both Mission Builders there.
We had a great visit. Bongwol served interesting things for
breakfast: This is fried cabbage, with an egg is hidden in the middle
of the “nest”. It was surprisingly tasty!
On the
agenda, of course, was bird watching. Terry didn't know I had another
agenda, but he soon found out I was interested in seeing where Czechs
had settled in the latter part of the 1800s. Many towns between
Edinburg and Houston had been settled by Czechs and Moravians, and we
noticed businesses with Czech names.
Since
my mother was born in the Czech part of Czechoslovakia, and my father came from
Moravia, I found the fact that many from this country had previously emigrated to
America fascinating. Why did they do it? Freedom. In the old
Austro-Hungarian Empire, before it was united as Czechoslovakia in 1918,
farmers were still under the feudal system. The availability of land
in America in the Blackland Prairie region, as well as the political situation,
drew them to emigrate by the thousands.
Czechs
brought with them their culture, a part of which brings me
back to my story
I
have been to the Czech Republic ten times, and I am well acquainted
with the koláč.
It's a yeast dough pastry with a filling of fruit, quark cheese, or a paste made from poppyseeds. My parents even had these traditional delicacies at their wedding. Here's a
picture of a Moravian variety Terry and I sampled in 2018. This pizza-sized one was sold with various flavours on the same plate. Tom is cutting them up so we could taste them all.
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My cousin's husband, Tom |
I
found out the koláč
came to America, too. I knew it wouldn't be the same, but I was eager
to taste-test this American variety, called kolache.
We managed to track some down at Prasek's Smokehouse in Sealy, TX. They
were displayed with meat pastries that looked like pigs in blankets,
also called kolache. [Technically incorrect! Czechs don't call meat pastries by that name.] I carefully chose my
apricot kolache. I found the name amusing. The plural form of koláč
in Czech is koláče,
which is what Americans call one pastry. I carefully carried the
little white paper bag out to the car, and happily anticipated our
lunch dessert.
Meanwhile,
Terry was on a mission. He was trying to find a certain state park,
but the GPS was not co-operating at all. We kept travelling down
secondary roads, back and forth, until lunch was long overdue. I have
to eat pretty much on time, so I wasn't happy. About an hour and a
half later,
I couldn't stand it any longer. “Just eat, then,” said Terry.
“But
I wanted to eat the kolache with ceremony,” I explained. It was not
to be. I ended up eating my kolache, while Terry focused on the road.
I took a bite before I remembered I was supposed
to photograph my kolache, sitting on the dash looking fresh and delicious.
I'm so
grateful to Terry for stopping to find the kolache. We had in mind to stop at another
bakery the next day which was famous for achieving the “best kolache” award,
but we never got there. The next morning a winter storm warning sent
us straight home to Edinburg, instead of exploring yet another state
park we had in mind,and stopping at the bakery.
That's
ok. I sampled my American kolache.
We both decided it wasn't at all
the same as a real koláč. It
was lighter, the dough fluffier, and the filling much sweeter.
Delicious, but definitely not a koláč.
Here's
a picture of some soup noodles I bought as well.
And the delicious soup I made from them. Just the thing for a cold winter's day!