1. When we moved to our new apartment in February, we lost our easily available and free access to the internet. And I was too lazy to walk over to Chris’ building to get internet and too cheap to pay for it at a cafe.

2. I came down with what I have self-diagnosed as a case of the Eastern European Blahs. I never realized how much sun Minneapolis really gets in the wintertime until I came to the Land of Eternal Gray Cloud Cover.

3. I have done absolutely nothing interesting in the two months since I last posted. I am serious. Nothing. Nada. Who wants to read “So, today I walked to work again, and it was really gray and cloudy. Then I walked home from work and it was still cloudy, but then it was dark.” BORING.

4. I have been really busy gestating. Gestating is exhausting work, but there is a wonderful surprise at the end. Ours will arrive around September 6. We are beyond excited. And so are our parents, who have been begging for a grandchild since our wedding reception.

So, whether or not you find all of this valid, it’s the truth. But the good news, or maybe I shouldn’t assume how you feel about my blogging, is that I should be up and running at full speed again. For a variety of reasons (this time I promise not to list them) I am no longer working at the landscape architecture office. Instead, I have become like every other foreigner in Budapest and I am teaching English. My only qualification is that I was taught English as a child, but that seems to be all that I need. Language schools love the native speakers. The great thing is that I love it and I have a lot more flexibility in my schedule. I am hoping to fill those extra hours with some traveling, some soul searching, and of course, gestating.

It’s good to be back, even if I am just talking to myself.

A sneek peak at our recent trip to Finland. More on that in the coming days.

The table itself was scrumptiously decorated. First up was a goose liver appetizer. The proper procedure for eating it is as follows: First take a piece of bread and spread onto it a thin layer of goose fat (bottom left on the table). Then put a piece of perfectly cooked liver on top and sprinkle, or should I say pour, salt onto the liver. After that comes a red onion/tomato mixture and if you are really daring (I am not) add some spicy peppers. Then take a bite and wait for a taste explosion.

Here's a close-up shot of the goose liver in case you vegetarian readers haven't had a good enough look to turn you back into meat-eaters. Just kidding, I love you veggies! Don't ever change. Especially for goose liver. Although it is seriously delicious despite it's ethical ambiguity. But that's a whole other post.

Gabor and Peter are thoroughly enjoying their appetizers. Peter, on the right, was our host. Gabor is a nice guy who is well-skilled at Hungarian dinner parties. Probably because he is Hungarian.

Peter's baby and Andras enjoyed some serious conversation. Probably something related to how small the little tyke feels in his gigantic high chair.

The next course was fish soup. Fish soup is quite the staple in Hungary. The most common sources of the fish are the Danube River and this other river whose name I cannot recall. A huge debate ensued when this information was told to us as to whether fish from the Danube or the other river was better. Considering that I see what the Danube looks like on a regular basis, I voted for the other river.

The fish in this soup was carp and each person got a healthy piece along with a warning that if we didn't watch out for bones, we may not survive the night. Peter has been to the hospital twice because of swallowing bones, yet he still makes this soup. What selfless hospitality.

Andras is the life of any party he attends and this night was no exception. I think he had just finished telling a dirty joke when I took this photo. Although I am pretty sure he has just finished telling a dirty joke in every picture I have of him.

And then came the main course....kocsonya. Don't ask me how to pronounce it. As you can see from the photo, kocsonya is a gravity-defying meat soup. My best guess is that this dish came about because someone making meat soup suddenly remembered that they had to feed the cows and ran out of the house carrying the kettle. They set the kettle down by the front door and an hour later, after sitting in the cold for so long, the broth became a hard gelatinous blob. Since microwaves had yet to be invented, the family had to eat the soup cold and for some baffling reason, loved the meaty/jelly flavor. They started sharing it with their friends, who also loved meat jelly. And so, the world got kocsonya.

The last course was dessert. Strudel is a very traditional dessert from all the way back when the Austrians and the Hungarians were one empire. This strudel was lovingly made by Peter's girlfriend's grandmother. She is part of the last generation of people who make the strudel's flaky crust by hand, a process that can take hours. Next to the delicious strudel is what I have labeled Laura's Personal Heaven: the most fudgy, chocolaty mousse I have ever tasted. The end.

The evening was a roaring success, and my culinary expert of a husband could not agree more.

]]> http://blog.laurabaker.net/2009/02/07/hungarian-cuisine-level-one/feed/ 5 http://blog.laurabaker.net/2008/11/06/sunday-blessed-sunday/ http://blog.laurabaker.net/2008/11/06/sunday-blessed-sunday/#comments Wed, 05 Nov 2008 23:11:44 +0000 Laura http://blog.laurabaker.net/?p=250 Chris and I have some friends who are Jewish and over the last few years they reintroduced us to the concept and imporatance of Sabbath. They have a strict set of rules of what they will and will not do beginning at sunset on Friday through sunset on Saturday. It means they don’t work on anything related to their jobs or their apartment. They read books. Go to movies. Take a walk. This is the real, Bible-thumping, Leviticus-loving Sabbath that they are practicing, and they swear by it. Well, okay, maybe not swear, since that may be a problematic activity on the Sabbath, but you get my point. They say it makes their relationship with each other better as well as preventing the stress of life from eating away at them. They may have a tough week, but they can always count on the meditative practice of Sabbath.

Chris and I tried doing this a bit during grad school, but things got a little tough and we fell out of practice. Now that we aren’t in our respective studios 20 hours a day, we have decided to try it again. Sunday is our Sabbath day, being the Protestants that we are, and we’ve done it for two weeks here in Budapest now.

This past Sunday was what you might call idyllic. It was a beautiful fall day and we decided to go to a nearby Calvinist church that I had read about. We knew we wouldn’t be able to understand what they were saying, but hey, maybe it would be cool. What we should have thought about before we went was that Calvinists are notoriously fatalistic. All that Predetermination stuff can make you pretty somber. The building, however, was lovely, and in a way, not being able to understand anything allowed me to meditate and ease my mind for the first time in a while.

I didn’t get any photos there, but here is a few from one of the loveliest walks I’ve ever had. Besides the fact that I was wearing totally inappropriate shoes and my baby toe turned in on itself and became instead a large fluid-filled blister. (Sorry to those of you with weak stomachs. I’m just here to report the facts.)

First stop: A Thai food restaurant. And Christopher's La-La Land.

What do you do when you are by yourself with no mirror and you want to check for boogers? This, of course. Digital cameras rock.

We see this guy all the time in different places. I'm pretty sure he rakes it in playing these water glasses with a boom box to back him up.

Budapest is full of these little pocket parks designed in all different ways. Here we have a very French-influenced garden, but the next one may be an ode to the old Socialists who used to hang out here in Hungary.

I have no idea what this company really sells, but I prefer to believe that if you call them up on a Tuesday wanting take-out, they will show up with a Butterball in 30 minutes or less.

The Danube River is full of party boats and touring yachts. I think Chris and I will try and go on one--some of them go pretty far up the river. Maybe we'll see an alligator.

The Danube River and fall color. And Chris running away from me because I look like one of "them"; them being the tourists who are only here for the palinka.

A striking memorial of cast-iron shoes depicting the tragic execution of a group of Jews during World War II by pro-German militiamen. The memorial depicts the shoes left behind as people fell into the river after being shot.

A man was putting fresh flowers in the shoes when we were there. This is a baby shoe.

The parliament building. Wow is all I can say.

Margaret Island--or what used to be an island before they filled it in. A beautiful park nonetheless. Great people watching.

This is what happens when you take a day off. You get goofy because you don't know what to do with yourself.

Or you stay your same old mister-grumpy-pants. I guess he needs a few more Sabbaths to wipe that look off his face.

Hunter and Zoe knew that this was going to be a night to remember...

That's right, my man is wearing tennis shoes. And I'm proud of him, because when this place goes up in flames, who's going to be falling off their platforms as they race for the door? Not my man.

We had somehow stumbled into the high school prom where everyone wore black and a lot more hair gel. I felt like one of the student’s older sisters who got roped into being a chaperone at the last minute. So, because I was over the age of 19–and therefore invisible to 90% of the partygoers–I felt no qualms whatsoever to take photos like a tourist.

The club was actually decked out nicely with some of Chris’ favorite things: projections.

I want the chef's hat that model is wearing.

Why does most haute couture fashion always make the model look like they are ready to join the circus?

Chris was on the verge of a revolt at this point, so Maria and I bid him adieu and we went to another club. This particular club was on top of Mt. Everest. Okay, not really, but I’m pretty sure I should have had an oxygen mask going up the hundreds of stairs to get to the entrance of this bar. By the time we got up there, we were too tired to actually stay, so we just walked back down and took photos in front of of these tagged walls. (Remember folks, tagging is to walls as dog is to fire hydrant)

Maria, with a smile usually reserved for when you are in front of the Eiffel Tower. But that's Maria: always the optimist. She's keeping me young.

Did I mention I got into a bar fight? I don't actually remember it, but that's the only explanation as to why I look like I have a blossoming black eye in this photo.

By the end of the night, or should I say early morning, I was starting to feel like maybe I COULD be young again. After all, “young” is a state of mind, right? Right?

• In 1944, the Soviet Red Army invaded Hungary on this day.
• In 1956, there was a massive student uprising against the Stalinist government on this day.
• In 1989, Hungary was declared a Republic on this day.

While the National Day is an important day of celebration, it’s also seen as an opportunity to protest.  In 2006 there was a massive protest which turned into a riot.

Articles with titles like “New surveys suggest Hungarians much more sensible than they will seem during tomorrow’s riots“, the very recent crash of the Hungarian Forint against the Euro and USD, seemed to suggest that there might be some action on the streets today.  But there wasn’t much.  Perhaps it was the dreary weather?  Perhaps people just took the day off.  When I was out walking this morning I noted endless Hungarian flags, but the streets were almost completely empty.  Just a few confused tourists trying to figure out why everything was closed.  A strange silence.