Goulash isn't what you think it is.

Until I hosted an exchange student from Budapest, Hungary, I believed that goulash was a potluck monstrosity, composed of random pasta, beef, tomato sauce and whatever vegetables were on hand. I'd eaten goulash on several occasions, but only out of politeness.
When Anna Toth came to live with me, she brought "The Traditional Hungarian Kitchen" cookbook, and several packages of paprika as a gift to me for hosting her. Thumbing through the cookbook, I realized from the photos that goulash (gulyasleves in Hungarian) was not at all what I thought it was.
Each goulash recipe was a variation on a stew of meat, peppers, tomato, onion and paprika. The cookbook had beautiful photos of the great variety of peppers that are used in Hungarian cuisine, raw, cooked, as well as dried and powdered into paprika.
Like most Americans, I thought that paprika was a flavorless red powder sprinkled on hard boiled eggs and cottage cheese to brighten them up a little. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Anna translated the labels on the bags of paprika she had brought me, explaining that one bag was hot, and the other was sweeter. It wasn't until I visited Hungary a few years later to see Anna that I truly comprehended what a big deal paprika is to Hungarians. There are shakers of paprika on every table, along with the salt and pepper, and in the grocery store, shoppers check the dates printed on paprika containers as diligently as shoppers in the States check the expiration date on gallons of milk. Stale paprika is a big deal.
Before I visited Hungary, I was already in love with their food. During the year that Anna lived with me, I worked my way through the cookbook, and learned that real goulash, in all of its varieties, is a dish to be savored.

Late breakfast in Prague

Waking up late always bothers me. Waking up late in a strange country, and missing my travel companions who set off for their day believing I didn't want to accompany them provided a little more stress than the normal waking up late angst. How to proceed?

After grabbing an apple from the front desk of the hotel, I wandered toward the castle the group had planned to tour. After climbing a steep hill, I found an athletic complex, but no castle. A little dizzy from a measly apple breakfast, I headed back down the hill and decided on a new approach to the day.

I would explore Prague on my own, beginning with a fabulous breakfast somewhere. I found a small cafe with an outdoor porch and ordered their breakfast special, which consisted of bread, ham, mustard, horseradish, a pickled pepper and a gherkin, along with a small cup of coffee.

I loved the minimalist presentation, and even though I detest pickles, I ate mine in the spirit of sucking all the marrow from my day.

As I watched Buddhist monks, tourist groups and others make their way along the street, I relaxed into a voyeuristic stupor, listening to the multitude of languages, observing the various types of dress. Prague in summer is a beautiful tourist trap, and instead of being part of the throng, I peacefully sat on the periphery. Eventually the group I had lost by oversleeping wandered by, and instead of rushing to meet back up with them, I just waved casually from my breakfast nook.

Lunch for a cold and windy day.

Today I gave my new ice skates a spin. It's 17 degrees here, and extremely windy, but given that days off are scarce, I took advantage. The neighborhood pond was a bit bumpy, with tracks of deer, humans and snow mobiles, in addition to stress fractures and the occassional weak spot where springs keep the ice thin. A beautiful obstacle course.

The wind propelled me across the pond, and I had to work my way back to my starting point, as I skated in spirally loops around the ice. After my fingers and toes began to feel alternately prickly and numb, I unlaced my skates and clogged back home in my boots.

Warmth was what I needed for lunch. A mug of cocoa made with milk instead of the water called for by my can of cocoa helped warm my hands as I prepared my meal. Pumpernickel bread, Bavarian ham, Swiss cheese and a blend of Mike's Mustard (from the Boyne City Farmer's Market) mixed with horseradish came together in a grilled ham and cheese that warmed me with both its temperature and spicy heat.

A meditative lunch

One of the things that I enjoy most about travelling is the opportunity to try new foods. Sometimes it's easy, and sometimes it's a challenge to my comfort level, but it always adds to the sense of adventure in exploring someplace new.

This meal was served in a Buddhist meditation center I visited in Seoul, South Korea. It consisted of tofu, greens, pickled radish and cabbage and bean sprouts.

The amazing thing about this meal was the ritual the monk led us through: rinsing the bowls to begin, eating silently and deliberately, rinsing the bowls to clean them, then drinking the rinse water, and any residual food that was in it. It was a lesson in not taking more than you need and not wasting anything.