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.