William Penn Life, 2012 (47. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

2012-02-01 / 2. szám

Tibor's Take with Tibor Check, Jr.

A taste of southern culture

THE START OF THE NEW YEAR is always a thoughtful time for me. It is a time when, like the Roman god Janus (from where we get the name January), 1 look into the past and into the future. Perhaps this is because my birthday happens to fall on January 1, so the arrival of each new year is very much an occasion for change and an opportunity for growth.

This year, I turned 21 years of age. Instead of spending my 21st birthday as most would, I spent it driving 12 hours to rural North Carolina with my girlfriend to visit her family.

I jokingly told Monica (my girlfriend) that this trip was not about seeing her family, but rather it was for culinary exploration. This was my first time being that far south of the Mason-Dixon, so I was eagerly awaiting the discoveries that I would make in terms of food. If there was ever a time to experience what delicacies that the Tar Heel State had to offer, this was it. Yet, this cultural discovery was not a simple one-way transaction. Being the quintessential Hungarian, I took it upon myself to be a cultural ambassador of sorts. So, along with clothes, toiletries and other travel items, I packed a basket of Hungarian treats for Monica's family. With hearty helpings of kolbász, pogácsa, Egri Bikavér, and some of Erzsébet's kifli and kalács in tow, I went south.

I had never been that far away from Northeastern Ohio, and I experienced a bit of culture shock.

First, it was difficult for my ears to become accustomed to the thick North Carolina drawl of my hosts and most everyone I met there.

Secondly, I had come from a land of Catholic church steeples. In North Carolina, the only Roman Catholic church that I saw could hold only 100 people at the very most. It was a small, newly-built wooden building constructed for the recently-arrived Hispanic immigrant population. As I passed by the little church, I could not help but think that its average attendance would probably dwarf the turnouts during St. Margaret of Hungary Church's last days.

Then, instead of small butcher shops, bakeries or open

air markets, there were huge superstores. Whenever I travel, I peruse local grocery stores and supermarket chains. I enjoy looking at the different local generic brands, the different produce selections, and a few local delicacies that are unique to the area I am visiting. In Canada, Detroit and other places in midwestem North America, I had grown accustomed to finding a kaleidoscope of ethnic meats, cheeses, spices, confections, pastries, canned vegetables and baked goods. I had grown up in a region where I, as an adolescent without the benefit of a large budget or passport, had access to a wide array of different cuisines and cultures. At a grocery store in Ohio,

I could buy Polish sausage, Russian tea biscuits, Greek yogurt, Lebanese hummus, Hungarian bacon, German chocolates, Italian sodas, Dutch cheeses and various other items. It took a trip down a stark, bleak aisle in a North Carolina Wal-Mart for me to miss and truly appreciate the crowded, almost claustrophobic West Side Market in Cleveland, Ohio.

Later in the week, as my host and hostess were preparing dinner, they decided, as a courtesy, that the pogácsa I had brought with me would serve as a wonderful dinner roll. They jokingly observed that they did not know what to call pogácsa, whether it was a biscuit or a roll, something in between or different altogether. I replied with pride that such a treat was unique to we Hungarians, but soon after I conceded that it could be likened to a biscuit. Luckily, my father had recommended that I take the cheese variety of pogácsa made by the incomparable Tommy's Pastries in Lorain, Ohio. This proved fortuitous, as the pogácsa reminded them of a southern specialty called a cheese biscuit.

As we began to enjoy our meal, the questions soon followed. I was asked about Hungary, about the pogácsa, about the sausage, and about how Egri Bikavér got the name "Bull's Blood." It felt as if I was the only one that was speaking for the longest time, and I caught myself rambling more than once. I had feared that I would have bored my hosts with my asides, so I decided to start working on my dinner.

Point to Ponder....

On Jan. I, 2012, the Republic of Hungary changed its official name to simply “Hungary.” For several years now, all new Hungarian license plates have displayed on the left side a letter “H” with a small circle of 12 stars above it. Each star represents a member of the European Economic Union.

These subtle changes are the equivalent of our country changing its name from “The United States of America’” to just “America.” And how would you like to have on your vehicle a license plate that indicates “America” is a proud member of NAFTA? We gave away the farm when we became the main cog of NAFTA. Did the Hungarians give away the falu when they joined the European Economic Union?

When comparing these small changes to other events taking place in Magyarorszag, these decisions are quite trivial. But, when evaluating political strategies, do these seemingly insignificant decisions point to larger and more serious implications down the road? - Tibor

6 0 February 2012 0 William Penn Life