Meal 80. Russian salty soup (rassolnik), cabbage pancakes (kapustniye oladyie) and oat dessert (kisil)

Nelly with all the ingredients for the salty soup and cabbage pancakes prepped

Nelly is not quite aware how significant this meal is for me, as the original idea of this project was to travel ‘Around the World in Eighty Meals’ and she is number 80! It has been 17 years since I started the trip with a Dutch meal made by my own mother. After an initial head start of 46 meals in the first two years, with some nice publicity in Dutch newspapers, it has continued with a few (long) stops and starts.

The plump pearl barley ('pitted' like with cooked rice)

Luckily, Nelly has taken her task of thinking out a ‘traditional’ meal quite seriously. I would even say, more seriously than any other host! She describes in detail the type of ingredients Russians from her region (St. Petersburg) would have had access to historically. Only very occasionally will she make exceptions for ‘modern’ components like tomato paste or paprika powder. These only arrived after these ingredients were brought over from the Americas. We laugh about how this way of thinking would mean that pizza and pasta with tomato sauce would not be truly Italian, and potato stamppot not truly Dutch!

 

The cabbage pancakes crisping up in the hot oil

 

We start with rassolnik, ‘the salty soup’, which is supposed to be excellent if you are suffering from a hangover, in combination with a coffee. We start by toasting pearl barley, ‘the food of the gods’ according to Nelly, called perlovka in Russian. It is quite popular also in more modern dishes, like a variation of risotto wittily name perlotto (actually called orzotto in Italian). The toasting releases a lovely nutty aroma and gives the grains a golden-brown hue. Afterwards, we add boiling water and keep it on low heat till the perlovka becomes plump and chewy. The other ingredients are carrot, onion, garlic, salted pickles and a bit of the brine - crucial for this salty soup! Chopped parsley is added at the very end. It is a perfect savoury winter soup, even if you did not go drinking the night before! 

 

Nelly serving the salty soup

For the side dish, cabbage pancakes, or kapustniye oladyie, Nelly cannot stop herself from snacking on the crunchy raw leaves. She closes her eyes and almost hums with pleasure, she loves it so much. However, when it is boiling, she makes sure to cover the pot, as even she admits that "nobody loves the smell of boiling cabbage!" The pancakes remind me a bit of the latkes my father used to make (as well as the Belarusian host), except using cabbage instead of potatoes, and no egg. Nelly mentions that a lot of traditional Russian foods are actually vegan, as the Orthodox Russian church involves ‘fasting’ (no animal products) almost half of the year. Surprisingly similar to Ethiopian cuisine, which has a lot of vegan dishes for the exact same reason!

 

Cabbage pancakes with cream and parsley as garnish

 

Desert is an oat ‘crème’ called ovyosani kisil. It is made by soaking oats in water, blitzing them with a mixer, then straining this mixture through a sieve. Chopped hazelnuts and strawberries are added for a hint of sweetness. Nelly has even prepared fresh oat milk above the Arctic Circle, during a field trip where she taught English to biology students at a research station. She is a very entertaining host, as every ingredient has a story, and she herself has had an interesting and international life. She grew up in the Soviet Union, but because both her parents were diplomats posted abroad, she moved with them during their posts in Mongolia and Cuba as a child, and visited her parents in India. This exposed her to tropical fruits and other dishes not available in St. Petersburg (then Leningrad). Apart from exposure to new foods, Nelly even remembers standing in the burning heat for 45 minutes as a ‘young pioneer’, waiting for Fidel Castro to turn up to give a speech! 

 

Rassolnik, or salty soup

Meal 79. Croatian Škampi na Buzaru (King Prawn Buzara)

 

Jasmina mixing the ingredients for the sauce with the blender (Shock horror, not by hand!)

 As I arrive in Jasmina’s cozy kitchen/dining room, it is immediately clear she takes cooking seriously. She is a master of the ‘mise en place’, preparing everything in advance, so that when the actual cooking starts, all elements are ready to go. This apparently comes in handy at her job for an international IT company, as well as in the kitchen! For the Škampi na Buzaru, or king prawns with buzara sauce, Jasmina has prepped little dishes with the peeled carrots, celery, garlic and onion, and proudly resides over the kitchen area in her Croatian red and white checked apron. As I chat with her and her wife Jelena about the euro having been newly introduced in their country of origin, she confides that more traditional cooks might frown upon her not chopping everything by hand, and would be especially shocked by her use of some secret ingredients (two unusual spices I have sworn not to share with anyone). She also mentions she is suffering from mild ‘stage fright’, as the final guest is a friend, Domagoj, from the coastal region where this dish originates. Croatia has an extensive coastline and lots of little islands, which has been a large part of the reason the tourism industry has been able to flourish in the last twenty years. 

 

Showing off the marinated prawns

 

Jasmina mentions that the country, the people, and the cuisine have been heavily influenced by the different groups who have been in charge in past centuries, from the Ottomans, the Venetians, the Austro-Hungarian empire to the Yugoslavian government. An interesting side note is that the German occupation during the second world war crept its way into schoolground game, and Jasmina mentions “always choosing to be a Partisan when playing Germans and Partisans!” I assume this would be the local version of “Cowboys and Indians” a kind of group tag which kids might or might not still play on American playgrounds. Had never heard of this variation! During Yugoslavian times, which Jasmina still witnessed, it was a socialist country, but with "blue jeans, Coca-Cola and the ability to travel in the West"...as well, it was very normal for mothers to work full-time, with school and daycare options available with long opening hours. Jasmina gives credit to this custom for the fact that Croatian women still have the reputation for being quite independent.

 

Adding cognac to the prawns

 Due to the complex national history, the majority of Croatians have mixed roots, and it is common to find a diversity of dishes like schnitzels and strudel, goulash, risotto and pickled cabbage (a kind of fermented sauerkraut). When I ask Jasmina if she has ever pickled cabbage herself, she replies “Of course!” as if this is self-explanatory. On the other hand, she has lived in Berlin for six years and has not made it here yet, although she is considering the basement as a suitable location. She still goes back home frequently, and when not flying, tries to bring back lots of ingredients like homemade sausages, bacon and lard, produced by her relatives. However, many typical products are available in Berlin too at specialized shops, as there is a significant diaspora here.

 

The classic ingredients for the ‘red buzara’ we are having are onion, celery, garlic, carrot, tomatoes, parsley, olive oil, red white, cognac, salt, pepper and paprika. For the ‘white buzara’ alternative, the tomatoes are left out and white wine is used instead of red. The two kinds of prawns have been marinated ahead of time and once the sauce is basically ready, Jasmina fries up the prawns separately before adding them to the buzara sauce. A bit of fresh parsley is sprinkled on top, and voilà, the dish is ready to serve with bread.

 

The prawn buzara, sprinkled with parsley and ready to be served!

A generous supply of napkins are provided, as you mainly eat it with your hands. During my first attempt at peeling a huge prawn, bits of red sauce splatter all over the place, including the cream table mats. Jasmina assures me this is fine, and helpfully mentions that it is customary to suck the sauce off of the prawn first before peeling it. This actually ends up being my very favourite part of the whole dish, as it turns out you really get an intense umami hit from the shellfish as you suck off the sauce.

 

The sauce, about to be mopped up with bread or sucked off the prawns!

Only after finishing my first and second serving of the buzara, I realise I have not touched the delicious Croatian wine. Probably because I was so focused on the food! Once my hands are clean, I make up for this error, and because there is still a tiny bit of room left, Jasmina serves up batons of smoked goat’s cheese. It is moist, with a mildly goaty, smoky, acid taste. I have only had smoked cow’s cheese before, and I love this new variation. To round off the meal, we have coffee with rakia, the Croatian version of distilled spirit (similar to grappa, palinka or schnapps). It can be made with plums, peaches, grapes, apples (or any fruit, basically) and honey. I pick the honey one, and the sweetness and mild flavour are delightful.

 

The homemade lard prepared by Jasmina's relatives

 

At the end of the meal, I am ushered into the pantry to choose one of a dozen homemade jars of jam with handwritten labels. I feel spoiled for choice, as well as literally spoiled, and after careful deliberation, opt for sour cherry. As if this is not enough, I am handed a generous portion of the smoked goat’s cheese to take home as well. I protest that I cannot take so much of her precious  stash, but Jasmina reassures me that I need not worry. She will be heading back to Croatia in two weeks, so will be able to restock very soon!

 

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For other meals from the same region, please see the Bosnian, Kosovar, Serbian, Slovenian and Albanian entries, or click on the 'Balkan Meals' label in the sidebar.

 

Meal 78. Uruguayan empanadas

Vir with the special leather and silver mate cup and straw

Vir (short for Virginia) is one of the relatively few Uruguayans in Berlin. It is a relatively small country, after all, with less than 4 million inhabitants. She has invited me over for empanadas, and is assisted by her charming boyfriend Ivan, as well as friends Nico and Emanuel, all from Argentina. They share a lot of cultural and culinary traditions. I cannot hide my smile when Vir tells me that her first date with Ivan involved "a walk in the park drinking mate"...! I can always spot the mate (MAH-tay) addicts in Berlin, toting around their personal calabash cup with thick metal straw. Basically, it is a heavily caffeinated tea, known to function as a pick-me-up, and drunk through a straw with a filter for the tea leaves. It dates from pre-colonial times, and is still incredibly popular in Uruguay, Paraguay, Argentina and some of the neighbouring regions. Vir was a huge fan, and shows me the gorgeous leather and silver cup she used to use. Sadly she has developed a sensitivity to the drink in recent years, meaning her stomach will not allow the regular consumption that used to be part of her daily routine. In Uruguay, it is common to walk around with a thermos of hot water to refill the cup, and the most "Uruguayan injury" is a burn on the hand...from hot water spilling from thermoses that have not been closed properly. Vir herself was burned this way as a toddler, when her aunt bent over above her and boiling water poured out of the thermos she was carrying. The Argentinians present tonight insist that they do not follow this habit and can recognize the Uruguayans abroad by the combination of mate cup and thermos. All seem a little surprised that the Germans are also in love with a local, very different, version of the drink, the sweet carbonated soda called Club-Mate.

Ivan, Vir and the Fernet

Very non-German is the fact that the dinner invite was for 19:30, and the actual meal started around 22:00. This meant lots of time for chatting, laughing, snacking and drinking a typical mix of both Uruguay and Argentina: Fernet and coke. Fernet is a digestive liqueur originally from Italy, but much more popular in South America than in its country of origin. Quite bitter, and somewhat reminiscent of cough syrup, it is an acquired taste, somewhat like Campari or Aperol. Ivan was so excited to see it on offer in the local supermarket, he immediately bought three of the special edition bottles celebrating the brand's 175th anniversary.

Vir mixing the flour with olive oil

As Vir starts preparing the empanadas, she confides that this one of the handful of times that she is actually making the dough herself from scratch. She would normally buy the dough ready made, pre-cut in circles of the right size. Or, even more common, she would just buy the empanadas from a corner shop, ready to eat. She estimates she has eaten more than 200 empanadas in her lifetime! Tonight, she is preparing two varieties. The first contains mushrooms, bacon bits and cheese; the second a filling of ground beef, boiled eggs, chopped onions and bell pepper. Paprika powder is added to the filling. Although the tin of paprika says 'spicy', I would call the end product flavourful, but not spicy like the kick you get from chili powder. Empanadas are very popular in Uruguay, not only as a snack on the way to or from school, but also at stadiums during football matches. When made at home, they are a traditional starter before a big family barbecue. They are a tad smaller than the ones I had for the Chilean meal years ago, and I manage to finish four before feeling pleasantly sated. Ivan has to withstand some teasing for finishing twelve at a recent dinner. Tonight he is able to restrain himself and sticks to a modest four as well.

Vir rolling out the dough with the classic improvised rolling pin - a bottle!

I had met a few other Uruguayans in Berlin a while back who told me that gnocchi was also a typical food, and for some reason often served on the 29th of the month. Vir confirms that this is still common, and it is often on the menu of restaurants on this date. As well, it is a tradition to place some change under the plate to bring good luck (and good fortune?) in the month to come. Apparently, gnocchi (a dish brought over by Italian immigrants, like the Fernet) was popular around the 29th as it was cheap to make - and payday was at the very end of the month! 

Vir filling the empanadas with the beef, bell pepper and boiled egg mix

Before tonight, the main thing I knew about Uruguay was that it was the home of Mario Benedetti, one of the more accessible greats of Latin American literature. Interesting is that he learned German in school and even translated Kafka into Spanish! Vir is clearly proud of her country, and deservedly so. Though, like Argentina and Chile, it suffered through a (US-backed) right-wing dictatorship in the 70s and early 80s, it has been remarkably stable, democratic and peaceful since then. It is one of the most socially progressive countries in the whole continent, having legalised sex marriage, abortion and marijuana. Vir does mention that the latter is sold legally only in pharmacies, and only if you are registered with the government. Potentially some of the more left-wing policies might be overturned now that a centre-right government is in power, for the first time in 15 years.

The end result: golden brown empanadas

In the meantime, Vir will stay in Europe, finishing her PhD in digital education, and trying to hold on to some of the traditions from back home. The look of joy on her face when she opens a big bag of maté brought over from Argentina as a gift is touching. That feeling is recognizable for all who have had unexpected access to a familiar and beloved food after a long period of going without. A similar sentiment was shared by my Danish host in Sierra Leone after being presented with real rye flour from back home; she said eating the bread was 'just like Christmas'!

Emanuel tasting the wine before we all dig in and devour the empanadas

Meal 77. Israeli brunch, Tel Aviv style (vegan burekas, labneh, chickpea omelettes)

Tal putting the finishing touches on the table groaning with all the different brunch dishes

 It's a wintery cold morning when I cycle to Tal and Yon's place for this brunch. As I enter their apartment it immediately feels warm, cosy, full of plants and colours. The burekas, savoury pastries in the oven, smell great, and it is clear Tal has outdone herself when I inspect the cornucopia of dishes laid out on the table. Yon says he has mainly been "supportive" but did prepare the "Israeli salad" or "Arabic salad" (tomato, cucumber, onion, lemon juice and parsley). He also mixed up the tahini dip. It turns out they are both hardcore tahini lovers. The last time they visited Israel, they brought over ten whole kilos of their favourite brand to Berlin. This morning, Yon mixed some of this stash with water, lemon juice, garlic and salt and pepper. It is great on the vegan bread I brought from a local baker, but also on top of the fresh salad and even on the chickpea omelettes, which Tal made with chickpea flower, coconut milk, baking powder, apple vinegar, seasoning and fried onions. They feel a bit like pancakes to me. Tal has also used her experience adapting vegan recipes to make a delicious labneh (normally strained yoghurt) and feta, with almonds as a base. The bureka (puff pastry bites from the oven) also contain a vegan cheese she made with almonds and tofu. We laugh at the commercially produced vegan cheese I tried a few days ago, which was mostly water, starch and fat. The ones Tal has prepared are both tasty and nutritious, but also a bit more labour intensive. I appreciate the effort! A lot of the dishes served today are broadly 'Middle Eastern', as are some other very popular street foods in Israel, like falafel and hummus. For non-vegans, the Iraqi-Israeli sabich sandwich is popular too; pita stuffed with fried aubergine, boiled eggs, salad and tasty sauces. Tal and Yon say that the brunch we are having today would be fairly typical for a meal you could get at any café in Israel. The vegan version would be especially easy to find in Tel Aviv, where they lived before coming to Berlin, and which is very vegan friendly. 

Foreground: cheese burekas, pizza burekas. Background: dates filled with walnuts

I mention that all I know about Tel Aviv is that it is famous for its nightlife. Yon gives a bit more context, explaining that certain parts of the city are indeed very 'buzzy' with lots of venues, shops, and extremely expensive to live. It has not been cheap to live in Tel Aviv for quite some time, and Yon mentions that in 2021 it even won the dubious honour of being 'the world's most expensive city' to live in. Some parts of the city are still quite poor, with a large population of refugees (mainly from Eritrea and Sudan). I feel a bit embarassed that I never realised that Jaffa (or Yafo in Hebrew) is now actually part of Tel Aviv, which has officially been called Tel Aviv-Yafo since 1950. Especially as my last name is Jaffe, and I have some family in Tel Aviv (though obviously I have never visited!).

Vegan labneh made with almonds, decorated with olive oil, spices and pine nuts.

After sampling a bit of all of the dishes, I am struggling to fit in any more. Yon prepares a fresh pot of his favourite tea, called Almond Charm. It smells of almond, and tastes great too once some agave syrup is added. Like their favourite tahini, they bring this tea back with them to Berlin whenever they visit Israel. I can manage about one more huge date, stuffed with chopped walnuts, as Tal tells me about her surprising career change. She enjoyed working as a florist for events back home, and even insisted on doing all the flowers for her wedding party in Israel herself. However, in Germany, she decided to retrain as a tattoo artist!  She has a few tattoos herself, including a beautiful fern motif on her arm. She had always loved drawing, but still needed to start her training from scratch here. Impressively, within just a few years she has established herself as a tattoo artist in Berlin with a specialisation in delicate animal designs and yes, floral and leaf themed tattoos. It somehow makes the switch seem quite logical!

Israeli brunch, clockwise: salad, cheese bureka, chickpea omelette with tahini, omelette with labneh, pizza bureka, and in the middle the vegan feta.

Meal 76. Serbian Slavski Kolač, Sarma and Gibanica for Slava (Patron Saint's Day Feast)

The four constants of a Slava: bead, žito, wine and a candle

Though tonight is the very first time I meet Ivana in person, we have seen and talked to each other online dozens of times, as we both followed German classes during my first months in Berlin. We are both quite proud and relieved that we did manage to pass the so-called C1 German exam in our first attempt. For Ivana, it means one step closer to working as a maths teacher in a school, like she did back home in Serbia. At the moment, she mainly focuses on private tutoring. 

I am very lucky to have been invited to a truly special meal this evening. Before the invite, I had no idea about Slavas, a uniquely Serbian tradition. Every family has a patron saint. On this saint's day, a specific meal with traditionally prescribed elements is prepared, and during the Slava, family and friends can come by without invitation to partake of the copious amounts of food that have been prepared in advance. In this case, Ivana has indeed been up till very late the previous day (3am!) to get everything ready for her family's saint, the female St. Petka. After arriving and having a "Turkish coffee," Ivana shows me the elements of the Slava that are the same, whatever saint your family's patron saint might be. They are a specific bread, red wine, a candle, and žito (wheat pudding with walnuts). The 'festive bread', Slavski Kolač, is a thing of beauty. Round, with a decorative braided crust and a brioche like texture. It is made with white flour, milk, eggs, and butter. It is also served on Three Kings when the tradition is to stick a coin inside (the person who gets the piece with the coin is the lucky one!) and the top of the loaf then has specific decorations of the cross, leaves and flowers. Though each Slava has the four classic elements, the other food served is different. For instance, families celebrating St. Nicholas prepare dishes that are either vegan or contain fish ('fasting' recipes). 

Slava bread (Slavski Kolač) with beautiful braided cross decoration

Interesting to me is that for Ivana, and for many others of her generation, the tradition of the Slava is both very old (going back to the 9th century), and new, as during Communism a lot of the Christian celebrations were put on hold to some extent. You could call it an 'interrupted tradition' on a national level, though now it is protected by Unesco as Intangible Cultural Heritage.

Predrag, Ivana's husband, cutting the ceremonal cross in the bottom of the bread

 Normally the specific patron saint (determining the date the family's Slava is celebrated) is inherited from father to son. A married woman would take over her husband's saint. Ivana's case is a bit of a variation, as she did not grow up with her father celebrating his patron saint (he would normally go celebrate with his brother). She did participate when her (maternal) grandfather hosted St. Petka. As an adult, Ivana decided to celebrate her Slava again. By now she has inspired her mother to do the same. I like how she gives the old traditions her own twist. She also makes the Serbian bread regularly in Berlin, with all the typical ingredients, but using her modern bread machine to save time.

 

The Sarma, cabbage rolls filled with ground meat and rice

Though Ivana seems to have prepared enough food for a few families ahead of time, she has saved one dish to make while I am there, the 'filo pie', called gibanica. Not coincidentally, this is quite similar to the delicious potato and filo based krompiruša I had for my Bosnian meal. In this Serbian version, the filo is brushed with a mixture of cottage cheese, eggs and oil, which is repeated layer after layer. Ivana herself used store-bought filo, which I would recommend for all but the most ambitious home cook. However, both her mother and grandmother, as well as her husband Predrag's grandmother would make the filo dough themselves, which takes skill, time and a big table!

The gibanica aka 'filo pie'

The dinner consists of many different courses. First we have a platter with meats and cheeses and dips, including ajvar, made with bell pepper and eggplants. The festive bread is ceremiously cut in a cross shape and some red wine poured over the cross. Then we have sarma, stuffed cabbage rolls, which remind me of the gołabki I had with a Polish family. I am already stuffed myself by the time the main course arrives! I try to take only small portions of the roasted pork, turkey and potatoes.

Roasted turkey and pork with potatoes, and a fresh side salad

Over the hours it takes to get through the many dishes, we have discussed all kinds of topics, including how Ivana and her husband got together as students, their time in Belgrade and London, Serbian churches not having any seats, the unconvential artist called Rambo Amadeus, and the history of the country going back to Ottoman times. We do also touch on the most painful event in recent decades, and Ivana is willing to share her memories of that time. In 1992, her uncle and aunt lived in a muslim city in Bosnia. They initially did not want to leave, as they were caring for an elderly relative who was too old to move. They did send their two young daughters to safety with a neighbour, who brought them to Ivana's family apartment, which only measured 54 square meters. For about three years, this meant the four kids of the household slept in one bed. During the first years of the war her cousins had no contact with their parents at all, as the phone lines were cut. Finally, Ivana’s mother managed to contact the parents by amateur radio, and in 1995 they also came over, meaning now eight people lived in the same small apartment! 

 

 

Ivana and Predrag are keen not to hold on to sectarian divisions, and mention friendships in Berlin and London with Croatians and a Serbian Muslim family. Though they do miss their country, it would not make sense to go back from a financial perspective. As well, their teenage daughter is fluent in German by now and doing very well in school here in Berlin.

 

For dessert, Ivana apologizes that she is only serving one dish. In a full Slava catering to large amounts of guests, the hostess would normally present a platter with lots of different petits-fours. I am already very impressed that she made the filled wafers (oblatne) herself. She blended together walnuts with powdered sugar and biscuits, then stacked about six of the thin wafers on top of each other with the sweet paste spread in between the layers. They are cut into diamond shapes, which are arranged to produce pretty little stars.

I feel incredibly grateful to have been able to celebrate such a traditional festive event here in Berlin, and to have been able to get to know Ivana's warm personality so much better in person now. Before heading out, I am handed a full bag with sarma, žito, gibanica and oblatne to go home with. Basically, I have enough food for four more meals! I enjoy the savoury treats fo the next two days, though I do share the oblatne with my colleagues, to help spread the joy of Serbian food. 

The oblatne, wafers filled with a sweet walnut paste

Meal 75. Slovakian bryndzové halušky (potato dumplings with cheese and bacon)

Blending the potatoes

Oliver, my host for this meal, has apparently forgiven me for saying 'Slovenian' instead of 'Slovakian' on more than one occasion. At this point, it has become embarrassing enough that I always take a millisecond to reflect before saying the word. Though I know they are two different countries, and I have very good memories of the Slovenian meal for this blog, somehow my brain does not always co-operate. To confuse matters further, I saw a cousin's post about a holiday in Slovakia which describes a visit to 'Slovenský Raj', a national park. This translates as 'Slovak paradise'...(if it had been Slovenian, it would have been Slovinský Raj). It does seem I am not the only one to make this mistake, and by now I am aware enough to avoid making it, unless I do it specifically to tease Oliver.

He is actually Slovak with Hungarian roots on his father's side, who is an 'ethnic Hungarian' from the southern part of Slovakia, near Hungary, where the majority speaks Hungarian. The border was to some extent fluid over the last century, with language and citizenship now still somewhat contentious topics. 

The famous protected geographical indication Bryndza sheep's cheese

I have been more of a witness to the preparation for this meal than normal, with a special trip to a shop in the Hague that sells Slovak products, including the Bryndza, a fresh sheep's cheese, and two local soft drinks, Kofola and Vinea. The taste profile of Kofola lies somewhere between cola and a malt drink, and is apparently served on tap in bars as an alternative to beer. Vinea is like a non-alcoholic sweet champagne, fizzy grape juice basically. Oliver jokes they are used to train children to drink beer and wine! Both are immediately pleasing for the unaccustomed palate. One Dutch exchange student was so enamored by Kofola, Oliver recalls fondly, that he bought six 2L bottles of the drink to take back with him to Holland.

Mixing potatoes with flour

For the preparation of the main dish, Oliver is channeling his grandmother's talents. A kilo of potatoes are peeled and boiled, then mixed with salt, flour and egg (optional). The halušky are then formed by spreading this thick batter onto a cutting board, and cutting strips off which drop directly into boiling water. Alternatively, the dumplings can be formed with a special perforated cooking strainer (haluškár) where the batter is pushed through smallish holes in the haluškár. To me, with a limited reference frame, this is reminiscent of both gnocchi (made with potato dough) and Swiss knöpfli/German spätzle, made with a flour dough but a similar preparation (cutting board or perforated tool). The Austrian meal for this blog featured a vaguely similar (though sweet) dish with potato dough dumplings (Mohnnudeln) too. The ingredient that elevates tonight's potato dumplings to a Slovak national dish is the Bryndza sheep's cheese, which is now an EU 'protected geographical indication' product (like feta cheese, or more famously: champagne). The cheese and smoky bacon bits (specially imported bacon, from special pigs!) add a savoury depth to the hearty dish, which is very moreish. Oliver describes it as the perfect food after a day of heavy physical work on the farm. Similar to other dumplings, it is more filling than you would think based on eyeballing the amount of food on your plate!

 As we digest the food, we discuss Slovakia's past. Oliver, having lived and studied in Prague, feels the separation from the Czech republic (the so-called Velvet Divorce in 1993), was "a bit of a shame," and mainly motivated on a parliamentary level. Only a minority of both Czechs and Slovaks was actually in favour of the split! 

We also touch on how things were under Communism. Oliver belongs to a younger generation that has not experienced this era first-hand. But tales of the many idiosyncrasies of the former regime are well-known to everyone from the region. For example, even though ownership of foreign currency was tightly regulated, there was a flourishing illegal money-exchange market – and Oliver’s great-grandfather was lucky enough to have old friends in Austria who would send schillings by post, camouflaged in 'origami cards' to avoid detection.

The boiled and drained halušky before the cheese and bacon is added

Some fled the country to pursue a better life, most commonly in Austra, Switzerland or Canada. As it was easier to get permission to leave on a holiday to another communist country, some planned a 'visit to Cuba,' only to disembark during the refuelling stop in Canada. Oliver's mother had a dentist who followed exactly this pattern, telling his patients he would be off on a holiday, never to return! 

Once the heavy meal has had a chance to settle a bit, we munch on a light dessert of thin Kolonáda wafers with a hazelnut filling (actually officially Czech). These were apparently traditionally served at spa resorts like Karlsbad as only "light desserts" were permitted, and the packaging reflects this history. Can definitely recommend...this in contrast to another sweet from the Slovak shop, the Margot bar which is supposed to taste of coconut and rum, but left me personally with a distinct impression of nail polish remover!

The final result, the halušky with the bryndza cheese and bacon bits added

Meal 74. Korean tteokbokki and fritters

Checking the tteokbokki

 When I first met Su (short for Sujin) I got quite excited, as I had just spent many hours watching a YouTube channel mainly about Korean food and culture. She knows exactly who I am referring to, the "Korean Englishman," who is by now a bit of a celebrity in Korea. There are some very enjoyable videos of British schoolboys trying Korean food for the first time, but Su and I both agree it is somewhat odd to have a whole channel about Korean culture hosted by an Englishman. Both part of the appeal, and a bit problematic! Luckily, Su herself likes the idea of this blog, and is willing to be the 'actual Korean' introducing me to Korean food in real life. Somehow, I have managed to never have a proper Korean meal...only some fastfood 'angry chicken' in Berlin, and dinner at a 'Korean barbecue' restaurant in Sierra Leone, which turned out to be run by a Chinese lady.

The ricecakes for the tteokbokki soaking in warm water

Tonight I am getting the chance to try tteokbokki, a kind of rice cakes which are soaked in water before preparation, which gives them a chewy, glutinous texture. While the cakes soak, Su prepares the vegetables for a kind of patties made with grated vegetables in a crunchy batter. Somewhat reminiscent of Japanese tempura batter, the 'Korean crispy frying mix' had sparkling water added to it to make it extra crispy.

Su preparing the vegetables for the fritters

 Su grates up a storm, adding carrot, sweet potato, zucchini and eggplant. It seems to be much more than we can finish with the three of us, as Su's friend and flatmate is joining us. They normally chat in German, as Su has been in the country long enough, for five years already, and is used to speaking German with her colleagues as well. She works at the opera, in the backstage area ("event technology") which is mainly dominated by older German males. As a young Korean woman, she is definitely an outlier! 

The fishcakes on top of the ricecakes with gochujang spicy sauce

We chat a bit about the cultural 'moment' Korea is having in the West, with movies winning Oscars (Parasite and Minari), tv-series in the top 10 most watched on Netflix, K-Pop bands like BTS and BlackPink incredibly popular. Even K-Beauty is part of this 'Korean Wave', with lots of American and European fans of Korean skincare brands now. I eye Su's beautiful clear complexion, and compliment her, asking if she also has an elaborate morning routine. "Nope, just the drugstore's own brand facecream!" (dm, for the German readers).

Placing the grated vegetables with crispy frying mix in the hot oil

I also admire her tattoos, which he had done in Berlin, by a Korean friend who studies fine art. They are still a bit taboo in Korea, and officially tattoo artists need a medical license, though by now they are quite common amongst the younger generation. After a long (corona related) absence, Su returned back home and her mother quickly remarked:"Oh, a tattoo!" Su managed to deflect the attention by mentioning that she got it from her friend for a remarkably low price, and surprisingly her mother just reacted with, "Oh...that's cool!" It sounds like she has very open minded and supportive parents, who were also quick to accept her changing from theatre studies (just before finishing) to studying at the opera in Germany).

Vegetable fritter - golden crisy perfection

Once the vegetable fritters are done, they have to be eaten quite quickly to appreciate the super crispy consistency. I am quite a fan of deep fried food, and these are exquisite. The tteokbokki aftewards has a completely different texture, very chewy and a bit slippery, a challenge for me to handle with chopsticks! They are served with boiled eggs, and a gochujang sauce made with fishcakes, spicy, but still quite accessible to me as a Korean food novice. I ask Su what she missed most when she could not go back for almost two years, and she mentions she ended up dreaming about cheese balls. She would literally be asleep, dreaming that she was in Korea and ready to order them, but would then somehow encounter problems during the ordering process, and then wake up disappointed, without cheese balls. A very Korean ex-pat nightmare...You can imagine what Su's priority when she finally did get back this summer!

Tteokbokki - chewy ricebakes with spicy gochujang sauce including fishcakes and boiled egg