"Have another doughnut! Don't be bashful. Eat, eat!," Bronia said after I consumed her 10,000 calorie, five-course meat-and-potatoes meal.
Residents of the United States, it is reported, eat 33 percent of their meals outside the home, as compared with Polish villagers, who almost never dine out. Our ubiquitous, fast food franchises exist in Poland's major cities primarily for tourists. But dining out is far too expensive for the average Pole, whose monthly income is about $200.
Still, I never lacked for home-style snack foods. Morning offerings included open-face sandwiches, made with one slice of fresh rye bread, butter, thin slices of cold cut meats, sliced tomatoes and white onion. I was never served a two-bread sandwich. I added the second slice to their wide-eyed looks of amazement.
Herbata is tea made with boiling water, tea bags, a slice of lemon and sugar to taste. They fill a six ounce handleless glass to the brim. Kawa is coffee served in the same type of glass. My cousins used either instant coffee, when available, or strong blends of ground coffee, and they drank it black. They could lift the hot glass without a winch, but delicate me, with my teacher's non-callused hands, I had to sip teas and coffee with a teaspoon until it cooled down enough to comfortably hold the glass.
Being their guest, I was excused for this wimpy behavior. Their coffee made me jittery, so I stuck to the herbata at meal times.
Fresh milk came straight from the family cow. Mrs. Kielbowicz milked Betsy three times a day. "May I try to milk the cow?" I asked. "Oh, no, she'd kick you out," my cousin replied, laughing.
I was not allowed to drink the raw milk for health reasons. But the youngsters loved to make milk shakes with the warm, yellow, creamy cow milk. Even so, a warm milk shake sounded unappealing to me.
My relatives always offered food once again before bedtime. I had to politely speak out some days, begging not to have a night-time serving. Those were the days when I already had eaten two and three main course dinners at other homes, each laden with foodstuffs that would cause an American to faint in disbelief.
A common evening meal prepared by farming homes was cooked over a backyard, open-pit fire using a "kociolek," a large, heavy cast-iron pot. Heaped with diced sausages and any leftover meats, sauerkraut and assorted vegetables, the dish was slow-cooked for an afternoon. "Bigos" is applied to this type of prepared meal. In Seattle we'd call it stew.
"What the heck is that white stuff?" I asked. "White cucumbers," Nadzia giggled, which is a popular side dish at suppers. The recipe includes thinly sliced cucumber, sour cream, white vinegar, thin slices of white onion, all seasoned with pepper and salt, mixed together well and set aside in the refrigerator for 30 minutes before serving.
For my send-off supper, cousin Stephania made a batch of "pierogi." Her dumplings were filled with white cheese, mashed potatoes and graciously served with her favorite recipe - vinaigrette decanted over white asparagus. We consumed the meal seated on rustic wooden benches under her grape-covered arbor.
In Poland, Catholic churches make a practice of blessing food baskets on the Saturday prior to Easter Sunday. The baskets contain horseradish, hard-boiled eggs, sausage, bread, salt and pepper.
The parish priest walks up and down the main aisle sprinkling holy water on the baskets. After Mass and Holy Communion on Easter morning, the family's first meal of the day would comprise the blessed contents of their basket.
Bernard Sadowski is a freelance writer living in Magnolia.[[In-content Ad]]
