I'm writing to you from my dad's office back in my hometown of Grand Island, Nebraska. I'm in town today for a presentation for school, but since tomorrow's by dad's birthday, I thought I'd stick around. :)
I wanted to let you all know that I did in fact end up making those homemade Runzas (or, for all you non-Nebraskans, "Nebraska beef buns") last night. Unfortunately, myself and everything I own now smells like cabbage (insert Austin Powers joke).
But I digress.
I'll have to drudge up some old family recipes from my mom's German ancestors to make for you. Hopefully none of them involve cabbage. But since this week is supposed to be dedicated to both German and Czech food, I would quite remiss if I neglected to address two of my favorite foods: Pilsner Urquell beer and kolaches. Naturally, these two things are connected to two of my favorite activities: drinking and eating.
But in all honesty, I love these things so much because they are usually done in the company of others. That's what makes food so wonderful; enjoying it along with some good conversation. For me, Pilsner Urquell and kolaches are directly tied to spending time with my family. I remember many years of my youth going to my Grandma Stehlik's house in Wilber, Nebraska ("the Czech Capital of the USA") in the hottest part of summer to watch my uncles drink beer and dance the polka. Ah, memories.
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| My Uncle Roy, Grandma, Dad, and Uncle Dale at Czech Days in Wilber. |
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| A storefront sign in Wilber, NE. |
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| The rare Czech palm tree, spotted in Wilber, NE. |
Every time I saw my grandma (Czech Days or otherwise), she'd have whipped up several batches of homemade kolaches. If you've never had a kolache, TRY ONE NOW, slap some Cool Whip on it (Grandma's rule) and enjoy with a nice strong cup of coffee. They are amazing, like little jelly-filled pastries of wonder (may hands-down favorite is cherry!). I'd like to make some for my dad's birthday tomorrow, but I'm not sure if I'll have the time. If not, I'll make them next week so you can experience their deliciousness.
I'll always associate kolaches with my grandma. She passed away this past August, and I don't think I'll ever think of her passing without tearing up. My grandma was very special to me, and so by making kolaches, I feel like it's one small way of being with her again.
Food is so beautiful that way. It helps us remember where we come from and gives us that comforting little feeling that those people that seem so far away are right there next to us in the kitchen. I don't think I'll ever be able to eat a kolache without crying a little, but it's nice to know that, whenever I want to remember all the wonderful things about my grandma, I just need to whip up a batch of them.
The same goes for whipped cream, too; a few months ago Matt and I were at a church event and someone had brought desserts and some Cool Whip. Just as I bit into a whipped cream-dipped strawberry, my eyes watered up and I started to cry, for no other reason than that the taste reminded me of visiting my grandma and her dishing up a fresh kolache with a big dollop of whipped cream.
I feel sorry for all of the people around us wondering why I seemed so moved by whipped topping.
Sometimes I get emotional about food, okay? Don't judge.
Have you ever had a panic attack/mental breakdown/epiphany/other from eating food? I'd love to hear about it in the comments!
I'll leave you with this little gem. My sister snapped this photo during
Czech Days several years ago. I had found and subsequently tried on
Grandma's wig. She was not amused.
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| Betsey: The Wig-napper! |
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