Goulash Lagolesh: Mita'amei Hamitbach Ha'Hungari (Goulash for Surfers), by Ofer Vardi; photographs by Michal RevivoLunch Box Press (Hebrew), 180 pages, NIS 120.
"That's it. After nearly two years filled with dozens of stories and plenty of recipes, the time has come to say a viszontlatasra, or lehitra'ot in Hebrew [see you later]. Thanks for surfing Goulash, for taking to heart and to stomach, for longing alongside me each week, for commenting and enlightening, and a big thanks to all those lovers who helped in the preservation of Grandma Rozsi's gastronomic legacy. See you soon on the bookshelf."
With these words Ofer Vardi said goodbye about a year ago to readers of the Ynet Web site, where he wrote a very successful column about the wonders of Hungarian cuisine. He bid farewell to his readers, made them a promise, and is now making good on it with a delicious and highly original commemorative enterprise that puts a box on the bookshelf. "Goulash Lagolesh" ("Goulash for Surfers") is the first offering from Vardi's Lunch Box Press, and it is served up with a new twist: Instead of being an ordinary cookbook, it's a recipe box, of the sort used by Grandma Rozsi and many other grandmothers. The dozens of recipes inside are printed on cards that can be pulled out and stuck to the refrigerator door while cooking or baking (even a magnet is included).
The recipes, photos of the dishes, family information, poetry excerpts, thumbnail sketches of Hungarian heroes, anecdotes and historical tidbits that appear on each card are an ode to Hungarian culture and culinary tradition. It is no less a multifaceted love story: a grandson's love for his Grandma Rozsi, whom he nicknamed "Nana" the day he started talking, from whom he learned the secrets of Hungarian cooking, and whom he forgave for not knowing Hebrew even after 50 years in Israel and charmingly corrupting meggyleves, the famous Hungarian cherry soup, into dudvevanil soup (combining the Hebrew words for cherry and vanilla); a grandson's love for his Grandpa Apu, who won 30,000 lirot in a Mifal Hapayis lottery in 1962, from which all that remained were a story, some furniture and a recipe for beef skewers with juicy kabanos and smoked goose breast; a penchant for soups ("Hungarians are born with a soup spoon in the mouth"), for gomboc, dobos, zserbo, eszterhazy and the rest of the desserts and cakes that Hungary takes pride in to this day; and of course a love for gulyas and paprika. "He who has salt and paprika - has it all," Vardi quotes, further informing us that a 17th-century manuscript holds that, among its diverse qualities, the red powder also keeps vampires at bay.
With an abundance of talent and love, Vardi brings to life not only his grandmother's recipes and personal family traditions, but also an entire cultural and culinary world, which despite the early efforts of Tommy Lapid (the late Hungarian-born journalist and politician), never earned the respect it deserves in our sacred land. In the stories that precede each recipe, Vardi honors the exploits of princes and kings and emperors for whom quite a few dishes and desserts were named, and also showers affection on goose breeders, chestnut sellers, operetta singers and Hungarian poets, who did an illustrious job of describing the Magyar passion for the pleasures of the palate. The poet Jozsef Barada, for example, wrote: "My eyes lit up. Oh, my mouth was watering from happiness. Now they are placing meat soup right before you. Just look at how golden it is, all glistening, and how its aroma tickles the nose! And its flavor! What flavor! Surely it has a soul. This is what you truly require! Do you feel the bone marrow, vegetable aroma and body-healing ginger? It is worth going on living just for this, believe me, only thus will you be able to give your attention to noble things. Otherwise you shall be like a bitter and toothless dog, barking at the world, whom even the loveliest of bones does not interest."
All kosher
Vardi's reconstruction of the culinary legacy left behind by Grandma Rozsi ("The yellowing pages are still decorated with her notes: 'Five eggs instead of eight' she wrote beside one of the recipes for chocolate cake"), along with impressive research that included a year spent in Budapest, yielded over 100 excellent recipes for Hungarian classics, which are written in a clear and user-friendly manner. All of the recipes were cooked, tested and improved upon by chef Peter Shikloshi, a graduate of the cooking academy in Hungary, before they went into the box. The "book" is superbly edited (by Zohara Ron), includes inspired photographs (by Michal Revivo) and comes in a box, but was definitely designed outside the box (Keren & Golan Graphic Design); all the recipes are kosher as well.
True, the Hungarians are not known as fans of the genre, but Grandma Rozsi never allowed pork into her kitchen; she kept meat and dairy separate, and her grandson chose to stay faithful to that legacy. In the interest of sinners and allegiance to Hungarian taste, Vardi mentions wherever appropriate the Hungarian habit of thickening the paprikas sauce with sour cream, pouring it over rakott kaposzta (a baked dish made with sauerkraut and smoked meat), and performing obscene acts with it in other delicacies.
Like a good Hungarian, Vardi starts off with 15 recipes for soups, cold and hot, including the famous cherry soup, wine soup (borleves), a beef soup with the power to hunt down lovers and snare bachelors (legenyfogo leves), and of course how can we forget gulyas, which is known in our parts by its corrupted name: goulash. The first to make it, it turns out, were Magyar tribesmen, nomadic cattle herders. When hunger struck, they would slaughter the most enervated cow and toss its flesh in pieces into an enormous iron cauldron, and the rest is history.
"Goulash for Surfers" also offers appetizers and side dishes, special holiday dishes and a variety of main courses, including cosmic concoctions prepared by Budapest's finest chefs as part of an assignment from Moscow during the space race. For those inclined toward sweet things, which hold pride of place in the Hungarian kitchen, Vardi provides no fewer than 30 dessert recipes, but naturally does not omit beforehand the vital role that cabbage plays, even offering a paeon to stuffed cabbage. Vardi writes: "Hungarians say that love that blossoms anew after years of separation is like stuffed cabbage. As with passion reawakened for another round, so stuffed cabbage is more pleasant and mature when reheated, as though it has learned a lesson and gained life experience and flavor." I never tasted Grandma Rozsi's dishes, but it appears something similar can be said about them, when reheated by the loving hands of a grandson.
Oren Kenner is a social worker who loves cooking, eating and feeding others.
Haaretz Books, October 2009
