Within the depths of everyone’s core, beneath the thumping source of life, brews a chaotic force of great magnitude locked away inside all of us. One with enough possessive power, if released, to transmute anyone into a slobbering savage with one goal in mind, to devour the refrigerator from the inside out! Everyone has felt this unwanted surge of bubbling trouble which stirs within, many define this sensation as hunger and some even call it torture. So what steps should one take to tame their inner beasts at such a time of crisis? First off stay calm, everything is going to be okay; you are not going to implode into a million shards even though you will feel like you want to. Second, slowly begin maneuvering your body towards the nearest source of nourishment and prepare something your body will thank you for. Last but most definitely not least, let the feast begin! Food plays a crucial role in the opportunity of any species surviving in any environment. Food not only brings nourishment, but tales and experiences witnessed by generations before us waiting to be unraveled and shared. This is my tale.
I come from a distant country in the middle of Europe called Czech Republic and the foods I grew up to shaped my life. As I grew older the tastes and sensations have grown attached to me and captured a portion of my mind and soul with memories attached to every individual meal. Have not you ever sensed that familiar taste or smell which seems to have been locked away within? And upon triggering this sensation you unlock that special fragment of memory linked to that experience as if being thrown into the twilight zone? These are the stories, the lost tales hidden within waiting to be uncovered. So I began to ponder over what I could cook to trigger these senses and I came to the conclusion that there would be no better person to ask than my wonderful mother. After the not-surprisingly long phone call we came to the conclusion that I should make my grandmothers wedding pastries, a delicacy I have not savored in a great while. The first time I enjoyed this delightful treat was when I was only six years of age, a time in my life when I believed that I was full of wisdom and knowledge. As I awoke on that fine day fifteen years ago, I sensed a lingering smell in the air, the smell of something very distinct, but ever so savory. I jumped out of bed, not giving a care in the world whether or not I had clothes on and rushed towards the kitchen. As I trampled over the dog, and swiftly ran around the corners of our tiny house the smell got stronger and I quickly realized that it could be nothing other than my grandmother’s cooking. I slid across the black and white tile floor in the kitchen with such haste that I did not stop, but just kept on going! As I finally made it to the kitchen and with perfect timing as always; grandma just pulled out whatever she was making out of the oven and placed it on top of the stove. I remember my curious hands fondling the counter tops trying to make my way to the top just to have a chance at stealing one without anyone noticing. But I was unlucky with my courageous attempt, before I knew it my older brother swept me off my feet and threw me on his shoulders and said “Musis pockat Honziku, je to este moc horke” (you have to wait Johnny, it is still much too hot)! I remember having to wait, what seemed like an eternity, just to get my hands on one of those precious pastries! But when the moment came, my eyes grew large with excitement, my mouth began watering, and my nose could not stop getting enough of its sweet smell! My grandmother handed me a warm piece and I stuffed it in my mouth as quickly as I could worrying that it might be taken away. At that moment my grandmother’s eyes smiled down at me and gave me a long hug before letting me wreak havoc upon the world once more. Ever since that special morning, I have kept two fragrances very close to me in memory, that of the delectable treat of course, but more importantly the distinct beautiful smell of my grandmother which I am sad to admit will not be available for me to enjoy anymore. On a lighter note though, I was blessed to have this recipe handed down to me by my best friend, my very own mother. I cannot even begin to fathom how many years it has been since I have last enjoyed one of these treats, until now.
I am very grateful to have at least one of the two essences stored and saved away in my grandmother’s recipe book. Therefore, as for my project I chose to refresh my memory of that special day by preparing the very same delicacy. I hope to replicate that exact unique taste, and maybe remind myself of the more desired aroma. Unfortunately for you, I will not give out the ingredients to this recipe, but I will allow you the opportunity to drool over these pages if you wish! This pastry which is usually made only for special occasion has been a traditional treat since my grandmother’s mother passed it down to her. This pastry from an outside perspective looks just like any ordinary round pastry with an exceptional sweet crumbly topping sprinkled over ground poppy seeds or sometimes pieces of your favorite fruit which are layered carefully over the cradling glazed surface. But as we all know, judging a book by its cover does you no good, but if you dare to let your taste buds experiment inside is where the real magic is hidden. Within this orb shaped treat lays a filling consisting of a sweet cream cheese base with several other ingredients which could possibly include nuts, raisins, and other goodies which meld together into something amazing! I am a very traditional cook, which in my book stands for cooking with the purpose to recreate memories. Do not fear, I love experimentation, but you just cannot go wrong with those heartwarming homey meals! But to understand this about me, you must learn more about me. See my family derives from quite a few countries in Europe in which the food they eat is an essential part of their lifestyle. My grandfather on my father’s side is from Germany but moved to Poland after World War II and married my grandmother. As for my mother’s side, my never-been-more-alive grandfather comes from the heart of the Czech Republic, Prague and my grandma comes from Slovakia. This amount of diversity and love for food gave me the best backbone for the creation of miraculous foods. I believe I was born to cook and spread the joy my meals bring across the world, especially to those less fortunate.
The art of cooking is in my genes; ever since I was a toddler the kitchen has always fascinated me as if it had some aura of energy drawing me in. I guess that is why I was chosen to keep these recipes safe and in our family till the time comes when it is my turn to pass them along. Food brings the family together as it allows everyone to take a moment and satisfy their souls with something scrumptious. These moments, scarcely found among families these days, create the stories, the memories, and the fantasies which fulfill the empty spaces within our minds. Without food, we would parish and without family, we would have nothing to live for. So I ask of you, the reader, the cook, please keep the stories coming for all to enjoy!
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