alaska – PursuitOfPaprikash

Something Substantial

April 29, 2015

I think I left off with throwing the going to Alaska card at you. I mean, I couldn’t give you all of the details right out of the gate. My father always taught me to save a wildcard or two to really keep the game interesting. Keep the players alert and attentive and then really take the game with a powerful last hand, the kind no one saw coming. I’m not the world’s greatest card player, but I grew up learning to build runs and pairs with my grandfather. Trying to stealthily grab all nine cards in the rummy pile, organize them so meticulously to orchestrate the last winning (hopefully) trick and slam my cards on the table as hard as he did. I guess it’s the suspense and the unknown that always kept me interested in playing cards. The thrill of the chase. The surprise of the draw. I love surprises, big and small.

I think it is my love of surprises that has led me on this pursuit. Surprises keep life fun and interesting. They keep us on our toes. They remind us of childlike joy and emotions. At least that’s how I see surprises. I’m sure some people despise them, but I think those people need to let their guard down and just let things happen – get rid of the white board and day planner and let the day surprise you. You never know, you may find yourself in Alaska someday.

Oh, yeah, ALASKA! I suppose you want me to let you in on that part. It was actually really hard for me not to tell you all about it in my last post, but I had to get you hooked right? Isn’t that what we learned in writing class?

It was many months ago when the Alaska idea came up. I was sitting with Andy (my boyfriend) and enjoying a Hite, a traditional Korean beer. It was only my second beer so I don’t want you to think I was all drunk and ready to start crushing cans on my head when I made the decision. But, in the words of one of my favorite breweries, things get a little bit more honest after two beers. Thank you Two Beers Brewing, you make wise decisions and delicious beer. Yum. Anyways, I have had a trying year. I’m not going to get all Young & the Restless on you, but let’s just say I had a year that tested my comfort levels, increased vulnerability at times, and forced me to step back and take a hard look at things. Shit, I’m sure glad I had my very own soap opera episode. We all know we’ve had some version of it (maybe not the six husbands, mother as your sister-in-law and little, weird, witch woman, but a toned down version?) Whatever the scenario, we just have to accept it, learn from it, and get through the muddy road.

It had been a year and I needed something substantial. That’s all I said to Andy. I had been wanting to spend a few months in Hungary for several years, but the cards just didn’t fall right. Turns out it takes a few dollars to get to Hungary and even a few more to live there and work for little to no money. “Do you want to go to Alaska?” That’s all Andy said to me. Supposedly there is money to be made in Alaska. Money I could use to get to Hungary. I said YES! I said it immediately. I said it confidently. I said it without hesitation. Have you ever had that feeling? The no doubt feeling? Like, really, seriously, no doubt? If only every decision in life came that easily.

So, here I sit in Skagway, Alaska. A little, touristy town of 920 people, wooden sidewalks and not a single stop light. YES! I’m already here! Of course I will tell you more – there is a lot to tell! It took us 36 hours to get here, did you really think I would leave that part out of my chronicle of adventures? I have a few more cards to play. I hope you are up for the surprise. Until then, I have to prepare for our first home cooked meal in Skagway. Any guesses as to what it will be?

Budapest, Cooking, Paprikash

How Clean Are Your Chicken Bones?

April 13, 2015

I always loved watching my grandmother raise her large cleaver and strike down on those poor little chicken legs. With each whack! I got more excited for the meal to come. Weird, I know, but take a cleaver to a bone sometime and you’ll understand what I’m talking about. She did it without remorse, with such ease and precision. I never viewed it as gross or disturbing, but just another step in the careful preparation of one the many dishes she would take all day, sometimes two, to prepare for us. And for the record, I was taught at a very young age about appreciating the bird and using/eating every part of it. Have you ever seen me eat chicken wings? Try to get more meat off than me, I dare you.

This primal butchering was a crucial step in my grandmother’s most prized dish. The dish that changed my life. The dish that has sparked this blog (or chronicle of adventures as I’m going to call it – I just can’t get used to the term blog). The dish that will one day be served in a brick and mortar, cooked with love by me, for all of you reading this and hopefully hundreds of other people who seek warmth and adventure in food as I do. This dish – so appropriately described by a dear friend as a culinary hug – is called Paprikash. It can reek havoc on your pastel colored t-shirts, but damn does it make your belly happy!

This chronicle is my pursuit of paprikash. My dream. My future restaurant. My tribute to my grandmother. She, along with my mother and grandfather emigrated to this country to start a restaurant – a Hungarian restaurant – which would have had the best paprikash west of the Mississippi.

She never did get her restaurant, but she devoted her life to rolling out (probably millions of ) noodles, stuffing sausages, slicing, dicing, baking and slowly cooking pot after pot of the Hungarian staple – paprikash.

And now, I am devoting my life to those things. I’m going to open the restaurant my grandmother never had.

So, I’m moving to Alaska. Alaska?! Yes, Alaska. Why you ask? All in the name of paprikash. I know, what the hell does Alaska have to do with this widely unknown dish? I’ve been getting that question a lot lately, rightfully so. The goal is to get to Hungary by way of Alaska. It will make sense soon. Stay in touch and I’ll fill you in on the details.

The next eight months of my life are only partially mapped out. As adventures unfold, I hope to have you right there with me. In the mean time, work on getting all that meat off the bone.