I rolled into town on Saturday afternoon only to find that my mother had a hunger. We decided on Polish food, unsurprisingly, and I was given two choices. Either A) a joint down the street that featured the talents of old Polish grandmothers cooking and serving or B) a place a bit further away featuring the babkas cooking with Polish hotties out front. I chose the latter.
I can't recall the name of the joint but I'm almost positive it was on Central Avenue. I don't recall the name and I'm not sure that there was any Engilsh on the storefront because I can only recall the Polish. Walking in, there was a small deli case by the entrance with seating in back. The joint closed at 2:30 and we got there just after 1:30 so things were winding down. A couple gorgeous young waitresses were scurrying back and forth while a couple stragglers finished their meals. The blonde waitress spoke English and directed us to a table. We perused the menu and were approached by the darker-haired waitress. She, however, spoke only Polish. Through a combination of hand gestures and an intervention on the part of the other waitstaff, we placed our orders. In addition to salt & pepper, the tables had shakers of paprika as well as soy sauce on them. At least it smelled just like soy sauce. It is beyond me why it was there but it was. We chatted and I ogled until the food arrived. My mother got Golabki (cabbage rolls) while I went with a very schnitzel-like dish whose name I cannot recall but it was on the daily specials board. It was pork flattened, breaded, and fried with ham & cheese set atop. In addition, we got generous portions of (real) mashed potatoes garnished with a few sprigs of dill weed. As we ate the woman who owned and/or ran the restaurant walked by and she said hello to my mother as my mom and grandmother are regulars there. I caught a glimpse of her when the door to the kitchen swung open and she was sealing pierogi.
The food was quite impressive. Nothing fancy - just basic meat'n'potatoes kinda stuff - but it was very tasty and hot. No lukewarm hoo-ha that's been sitting around. The breading was crisp and the mashed taters were chunky as they should be. Needless to say, I cleaned my plate. I did so because I was hungry, out of courtesy to the chef, and because we were to go shopping next and I figured that, if I went with a full belly, I wouldn't attempt to buy the whole store. Alas and alack, my plan failed miserably.
The first store we hit was Krakus Homemade Sausage. The place was cleaned out. The deli case was virtually empty with only a stray ham here and there. Poles are generally very Catholic and with Easter being the next day, everyone had stocked up for Easter Sunday. I gave the store a quick once-over and we left empty-handed. Since Ideal Pastry was right across the street, we headed over there. In addition to more nubile Polish lasses, there was a plethora of sweets! Oh, and bread too. I grabbed a couple loaves of their multigrain bread, a carrot cake, and a whole mess of cookies. They were butter cookies with chocolate chips on top and they were extremely good. European sweets are generally better than their American counterparts because you can actually taste something beyond the sugar. Things are less sweet. The chips on the cookies were made of dark chocolate and not milk chocolate.
Next we headed back up Milwaukee to Andy's Deli & Mikolajczyk Sausage Shop. Business was brisk as people did some last-minute shopping for Easter. I grabbed a basket and my mom and I wandered around the aisles of plenty to see what was to be had. The first thing I ran into was the ubquitous pickle. Shelves and shelves of pickles, cucumbers in brine, pureed pickles, and on and on. However, these pickles and various pickled vegetables such as peppers & mushrooms are easy enough to find here. Woodman's and Brennan's both have a fair selection of Polish pickled veggies. There was also a selection of canned green beans and the like but I'm thinking that beans canned in Warsaw are pretty much the same as those done by the Jolly Green Giant. When I came to the noodle aisle, chicken soup popped into my mind so I decided to buy some egg noodles. But which ones? I have preferences when it comes to dried Italian pasta but not Polish. So I just went with the brand that hand the cartoon picture of the grandma on the label. I mean, who does like grandmas? Here's a sample of the canned goods I bought:
Bacon and pork loaf? How could I not buy it? Beer? Well, it's a foregone conclusion that I'd have to sample a Polish brew. And then there's the jelly with rose hips. I've got a gallon of rose water leftover and it needs to be used up. Perhaps some jelly would be a good way to acclimate my palate. Then on the far right is cherry jam with chocolate. If it's got chocolate, I'm there!
Andy's is a fairly large store and has a meat counter which is about the size of a football field. Pork is a highly versatile meat and folks at Mikolajczyk Sausage Shop don't mess around. The acres of deli cases are filled with countless cheeses, hams, lunch meats, and fresh sausages. Behind the counter and hanging on the wall are over a dozen smoked sausages. Since I was able to get the fresh Polish sausage here in Madison at Alex Polish American Deli and I had my photocopied pages of smoked sausage from Culinaria, I directed my gaze at the wall in back. The first woman to try and help me spoke no English so she called over a woman who could. At this piont, my restraint was about gone and I went into a frenzy of sausage buying.
Here's what Culinaria has to say about Polish sausages:
Polish sausages are preferably made of pork with a lesser or greater amount of beef added. Particularly well known outside of Poland are sausages from Cracow. According to the Polish recipe they are made from eighty percent pork, ten percent bacon and ten percent beef. Pepper, fresh garlic, and caraway seeds are added as seasoning.
The sausages are smoked in a hot smokeroom until they are golden brown, then they are steamed or cooked. Once they have cooled, they are returned to a warm smokeroom until they develop a dark brown color. About forty types of sausage are for sale across the country officially with countless further regional varieties. Furthermore many Poles made their own quite individual varieties that are usually distinguished by a large amount of garlic. A very tasty sausage made from game is also available. A distinction is made between sausages that are smoked to be kept, uncooked sausages, cooked sausages which have to be heated before eating, and sausages which are heated in boiling water.
This is Kielbasa Wiejska:
This stuff is smoked Polish sausage and is essentially the same stuff you find in grocery stores here as Polska Kielbasa but this variety has a twist. I haven't sampled this yet but Jason has and he reports that it's fantastic. The cut of the meat is a lot coarser than the generic stuff plus it has herbs added as you can see bits of green leafy goodness.
This is starowiejska:
The English on the label read "Old Country Style Sausage". Now this stuff I have tried. Again, a very coarse grind of meat. The sausage has a very pronounced smokey flavor plus there's caraway seed. I also bought a jar of Letcho or Sweet Pepper Stew there and put some of this stuff in it when I heated it up earlier this week. Very, very tasty.
Now, here we have Kabanosy:
The label read only "Stick Sausage" which makes sense since this variety is much thinner than the other two above. Culinaria describes it as "Made from chopped pork; smoked and fried". Haven't tried it yet so that's all I can tell you for now.
Lastly, I bought Kielbasa-Jalowcowa:
This is Juniper Sausage. Hey, I love gin so this stuff has got to be good. Haven’t tried it yet, though.
Needless to say, I bought many pounds of sausage. At the checkout, the cutie gave me my change and a chocolate bar! 100 grams of bitter chocolate ecstasy from E. Wedel in Poland. (Methinks this company is owned by Pepsi.) After putting my many bags of groceries into my mom’s van, we headed north to New York Bagel & Bialy. It’s always been difficult to find a decent bagel in this town and I don’t recall ever having seen a bialy here in Madison that I didn’t personally bring with me from Chicago. But maybe that’s just me. Still, I had to stock up. Onion bialys are a thing of tastiness to behold. Soft and chewy, they’re like a Tootsie Roll Pop because, after you eat the outer bit, you are rewarded with a center of oniony goodness. I also found out that the place is open 24/7 so I can drop by anytime when I’m in Chicago and grab bagels, bialys, or some of the sweet treats they have. Speaking of which, I also bought a couple apricot hoolies. I’ve forgotten what they’re called but you take some really buttery, flakey dough, slap some apricot filling in the middle and fold over. Once baked, put powdered sugar on top and away you go.
The last stop on Saturday was at Ambala’s, the purveyor of Indian sweets that are as addictive as crack. The owner walked by saying hi as he recognized me as the guy from Wisconsin. What does it say about a person when a confectioner 140 miles away from home recognizes him as a “regular” customer? I assembled a medley of halwa, barfi, and pera which I greedily tucked under my arm as we walked out. Of course I had to sample the stuff. Personally, I’m addicted to the pista barfi and I thought that this batch had more chunks of pistachio nuts in it than previous ones. This, as Martha would say, is a good thing.
For logistical reasons, I threw the perishables into my mom’s frig before heading over to my brother’s place. It was as I was pulling away from my mom’s place that I noticed that my car engine was having fits. It sputtered and had no power in low gears. I made it over my bro’s apartment fine, though. His roomie, Andrew had requested that I bring a bunch of New Glarus Belgian Red and Raspberry Tart with me so I had a cooler full of the stuff for him. The plan was to head over to Glenn’s place and play some Arkham Horror. And this we did. Glenn’s frau, Helena, is a wine kinda gal so, after drinking liquid manna from New Glarus, we tried out some fine Spanish wine. A couple pots of coffee later, we started getting peckish and ended up ordering Chinese/Japanese. By Japanese here, I mean that they delivered sushi which, I think, would be a good idea for Madtown. I just can’t get my sushi-wasabi fix during those late-night gaming sessions here in Madison. It took us 8 hours to save Arkham but we did so.
We got back to my brother’s around 4 and I went to sleep shortly thereafter. Unfortunately, I could only sleep until about 8:30. After showering and preparing to head to my mom’s place, I realized that my car was in none-too-good shape. I did manage to make it back to her place and called my brother to have him pick me up to take me to our aunt’s for Easter dinner. Dinner consisted of Polish sausage, ham, and other Polish delectables. While watching family play pinochle, I spied something which explains a lot. First of all, pinochle runs deep in my family and I suspect that I’m the only member that doesn’t know how to play. My grandfather and great uncles took it seriously – very seriously indeed. But I never learned how to play it. Anyway, I was sitting there attempting to suss out how it works when I spied my grandmother walking towards the bathroom off of the kitchen. My grandma is 90 years old and has the usual health problems of folks her age. Thusly she is on a fairly restrictive diet along with a regimen of about a million pills. Now, in front of the bathroom door there’s a counter and on this counter sat the remnants of a chocolate cake and a cherry pie. I caught a brief glimpse of her looking around furtively before she began sampling the pie. It soon went beyond sampling to hoarding. Now, we all know she’s diabetic but who am I to tell a 90 year-old woman that she’s not allowed to eat cherry pie? I certainly wouldn’t chastise my own grandmother. My aunt, however, noticed this and threatened to slap her hand if she didn’t get it out of the pie. Later, my mom and aunt were having a confab about my grandmother’s pie poaching and sort of resigned themselves to helplessness with, “She’s got a sweet tooth…” And therefore I conclude that I got my sweet tooth from my grandmother. Since my mom doesn’t really have one, I can only conclude that the sweet tooth gene skips a generation.
Having fixed my aunt’s faucet and computer, eaten too much, caroused with family, and discovered the genetic foundations of my love of sweets, we headed back to Chicago. I dropped my mom off, then my grandmother, and finally my brother. I chilled at his place for a while and he, Andrew, and I watched some Doctor Who. When I couldn’t take the threats from my brother of being exterminated, I headed back to my mom’s and crashed. Monday morning we got my car into a nearby auto shop. This left time for us to wander about. We went and had breakfast to start things off. On the way into the restaurant, I picked up the Red Eye, a free paper from the Chicago Tribune aimed at young, hip folk. What a piece of shite. It’s like an expanded and quotidian version of Madison’s Core Weekly, which is no longer published. A bunch of entertainment and lifestyle hoo-ha with hard news reduced to McNugget sized articles. With breakfast done, we went out and about. My mom needed to do some grocery shopping, specifically for fruit, and so we hit yet another Polish grocery store but one that had a wonderful produce section. The last time I was there, they had raw olives for sale. While they didn’t have them this time around, they did have quinces and you can bet your ass I bought some. Quince marmalade here we come! This joint also had a trio of 30-gallon barrels at the end of one of the produce aisles – kraut, cucumbers in brine, and pickles. The smell of dill was just so enticing and I bought a few of the pickles which were about the size of beer bottles – huge! My mother also needed a loaf of bread so we headed a couple storefronts down the street to Signature Bakery. A woman walked out the door as we approached with a parcel underneath her arm so it was a bit of a surprise to walk into the joint and find only a couple lights on. Mom, having picked up some Polish, yelled something which I found out was “Good morning!” A kindly gentleman came out and informed us that they were closed on Mondays. Apparently the woman who had walked out was his sister. We apologized and turned to walk out. “Wait,” he said. He walked into the back and we heard some shuffling. He returned bearing a few loaves of bread. It was all from the day before and he was eager to not let it go to waste. I think he gave us six loaves for $5. We turned to leave again and were called back again. He had one more loaf to dispense with and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. However, instead of nice round loaves of rye and multigrain goodness, he presented us with a leviathan. This thing was almost 2 feet long and weighed about 5 pounds. This behemoth defied bagging. We finally walked out of there with our arms full.
My car was done mid-afternoon and I was home in the evening. Our freezers were already pretty full but I managed to squeeze a lot more into them. However, Mr. Megaloaf would just not fit. And so I gave him away at work the next day. I also brought in some of the bialys only to get many a blank stare. How could these people have never had a bialy? I’ve never considered them to be all exotic – they’re just bagels with depressions instead of holes. Sheesh.
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