Let her Live her Life

Pamela Druckerman first introduced me to the idea of sleep-away camp for nursery school children in her book about raising kids in Paris, Bringing up Bebe. French parents routinely send their little ones off for a week in nature with their nursery school teachers. This concept was new and shocking to me, as it was to Druckerman. She didn't dare send her little one. I just put mine on the bus. And I feel good about it.  I am confidant that she will be fine. More than fine.
 

***

Iza left on the bus for camp this morning. Today it is Saturday. She will return on Thursday. She has never slept a single night away from home without me. When my husband is out of town (he spends every other month in America) she and her brother bedshare with me. What I told her:

I love you.

Have fun. 

It will be six days, five nights.

What she asked in the past several weeks:

How will she get her meals?

Who will she sleep with?

I told her that I would call her at least once per day. (This is a rule set by the teachers). She pointed out, “But, mama, I don’t have a phone.” I explained that I would call her teacher and the teacher would let her use her phone.

We were instructed to write five postcards. They will have a mail delivery each day and read the cards to the kids. I labored over the postcards.  It was an intensely emotional writing task. I drew several little lopsided hearts, a few ice-cream cones, even a little crooked rainbow. 

I also prepared a collage of family photographs for her to keep under her pillow.  I printed off several photos and laminated them.  The teachers had asked us to provide one family photo.  The truth is that we don't seem to have a photo with all of us.  So I made a collage.  Lamination was the natural finishing touch.  It will withstand rips and pillow drool.

We were also instructed to make a plastic bag for each day with an outfit inside. I found purple bags. I cut out little paper hearts and labeled each bag with her name and a number for each day.

When she saw the size of her suitcase, she said, “How will I carry that?” I assured her that the teachers would take care of it. (I didn’t have a smaller-sized bag to use.)
 

***

What I said to her as we stood in an excited crowd of parents and children on a busy Budapest street:

I love you.

Have fun.

If they have ice-cream everyday, that is okay. Enjoy it! (Normally we limit treats to Saturdays.)

If you need anything, ask your teacher.
 
What I didn’t say:

Brush your teeth.

Use sunscreen!

Wear clean underwear.

Don’t be afraid to flush the toilet in public restrooms. 

Listen to your teachers.

Behave. Be nice. 

Brush your unruly wild abundance of a tangled horse mane in the morning, for the love of god.  Wear a barrette to hold back your bangs so that they can grow out gracefully.  

***

Leo, who has never been separated from her for a single night in his life after he come home from the hospital, buried his head in her shoulder.

Iza said, “I love you.”

Leo said, “I love you.”

Iza said, “I need to go now.” Her voice was suddenly maternal, gentle but firm. The decision to take the trip had already empowered her before she said a final goodbye.

She boarded the enormous white bus. We waved furiously at the big windows where their heads barely cleared the lower sill. We didn’t see her, but we waved and blew kisses. Then it was time to let Leo cry on my shoulder before the walk home to a quiet house.

Get on Board

I have decided to skateboard.  I turn forty this year and it is time to make some firm decisions.  Implicit in choice is my decision to eschew stilts.  For several years I ruminated over learning to walk on stilts.  It seemed the ideal idyll.  It earns you a right to parade in extravagant costumes.  It elevates you.  It can’t be that hard, right?  Yet my intense lack of depth perception due to my nearsightedness held me back.  It seemed like the equivalent of a tone-deaf person who wants to learn to sing opera.  The drama of it, however, still enchants me.  You get to be a clown and delight the masses with such elegance.   It is time for me to table the stilts, however.  Maybe I will write a poem about stilting to get it out of my system.  It would have to be a long, tall poem with colorful scarves and butterfly wings.  There would be a gypsy band with a drummer to escort me and a rainbow.  They might be a fall from grace.  (Not sure about the rainbow, but there is room for revision.)  

In the meantime, I have moved to Budapest's urban landscape.  I walk everywhere.  The kids recently mastered bicycles, leaving me half a block behind if I am lucky to be that close.  While I am confident that they will wait at the corner for me to cross the street, there will come a day when they decide that Mom is too slow and they are capable of crossing on their own.   They are four and six.   I trust them to look for cars.  I do not trust the cars to look for them.  There is no doubt that I need to increase my sidewalk speed. 

My husband owns a foldable bike that is cute and adequate for the job.  It is also quite heavy and cumbersome.  The constant lugging it up and down three flights of stairs is tiresome.  There is always the fear of a bike thief.  We once caught a thief cycling away with the bike.  My husband was valiant. I screamed maniacally in poor Hungarian.  We got the bike back.  We do not speak of the incident in front of the children and we have since purchased a heavy-duty lock (which is also heavy to lug around).  Yet I still worry as I go about my day that I will emerge from a delightful cake shop (it is Hungarian thing) and not find my bike.

Here in Budapest it is not uncommon to see adults using scooters—a baseboard with wheels and an attached handlebar.   They are foldable and lighter than a bike.  Instead of locking it on the street, you take it with you inside whatever store or café you visit.  As you go up and down curbs you just step off the scooter and hold it by the handles.  It is by far the sensible choice.  I should get an adult scooter.  

Yet I just don’t find it cool.  I can’t fully explain it.  The truth is that it does not have sex appeal.  It is too practical.  It is boring and easy.  What I need in my fortieth year is a little spice, some danger, and an excuse to ride without brakes.  The skateboard is the answer.  Now, how does a lady of my vintage acquire street cred?  I have do idea where to buy a board or what kind I need.  There must be all kinds of considerations—wheel size, board size, and materials.  I need to hire a young person who is in the know. 

There must be a guidebook: Skateboarding for Old Ladies.  

If not, I may be able to write one by the end of the year. 

Grocery Home Delivery in Budapest

Parenting Secret Power Revealed: Grocery Home Delivery in Budapest


I am not a super hero, but I do have one or two parenting secret powers. I am happy to reveal the first one: grocery home delivery service.

I was thrilled to discover that Budapest has multiple home delivery services for groceries, including household goods, baby items, and office supplies. As a mother of two under two in Boston I discovered that I could shop online and have my groceries carried into my kitchen. Now that I am a mother of two under six in Budapest I still rely on the service. While it is easier to shop now that the kids are older, we live in a third floor walk-up in the heart of the city and don’t own a car. For no delivery fee in some cases, I can have all my bulky items carried up three flights of stairs!

If you have never used the service, you might have some reservations. The idea of a stranger selecting your chicken breasts is a bit nerve-wracking, I agree. For that reason I mostly use the service to buy heavy items: economy-sized clothing detergent, cleaning supplies, bulk amounts of organic milk, twenty four rolls of toilet paper, and the occasional summer watermelon. When I have ordered fruits and vegetables, I have been pleased. I suspect the person selecting my kiwis does a better job than me when I have two little people demanding my attention.


Pagony Közért
http://www.pagonykozert.hu/en/home
The Pagony Közért offers free home delivery in all districts within twenty-four hours of your order (for a minimum order of 4000 forints). They offer a variety of payment methods. In addition to food and drinks sections, they offer a baby section (with diapers, soaps, food), an international section, a pet section, and an organic selection of foods.

G’Roby
https://www.groby.hu/
G’Roby’s delivery is free with a minimum order of 50,000 forints, under that price there is a sliding scale. They have a very detailed explanation of their fee scale, a variety of payment methods, and delivery options on the website. G’Roby has a similar range of products compared to Pagony Közért. In my experience it has a better selection of organic products, which they list under a tab called “Health Shelf.”

Tesco
http://bevasarlas.tesco.hu/en-GB
Tesco’s service fee ranges from 600 forints up to 1200 forints and depends on the time of the delivery. Their selection matches what you can find in any Tesco store. In contrast to Pagony Közért and G’Roby, Tesco only accepts online payment. The delivery assistant does not accept cash and they are not allowed to accept tips.

Szatyorbolt
http://szatyorbolt.hu/
Szayorbolt is an alternative to the standard big-box grocery store, offering locally sourced products. While you can shop from their range of products, they use the weekly box concept. You can choose from various sizes and types of boxes filled with seasonal fruits and vegetables and you can swap items if you don’t need onions that week. They offer several pick-up locations around town. Their website suggests that they will deliver only by bicycle. While I have shopped in their store, I have yet to try delivery. Still it might be worth keeping on eye on this business and offer your support for their environmentally friendly model.

Neked Terem
http://www.nekedterem.hu/default.aspx
This company offers another alternative to the big-box store. They specialize in locally grown products and offer delivery on Fridays. The delivery fee ranges from 280 to 850 forints determined by your address. Similar to Szatyorbolt, Neked Terem uses the weekly box concept. Currently their website is only in Hungarian.


Have you tried grocery home delivery in Budapest?
Please share your experiences in the comments.

Conchita Wurst - Rise Like A Phoenix (Austria) 2014 Eurovision Song Contest

Raising Kids in Budapest: Gender Tales

My kids go to a Hungarian nursery school. I am a fan. I especially love that they eat a sit-down lunch with at least two courses. Lunch always starts with a soup. Followed by a second course of either pasta or meat and potatoes. Sometimes there is fish, though rarely. I am sure it is not organic. Sometimes they report with a near swoon, Today the soup had hotdogs in it! There is white bread. And strange meat spreads. But I overlook these things because I think the lessons learned from a shared table with real cutlery and decorum are essential. I have been to one of these lunches and it was impressive how the little ones behaved. Then I learned that the girls are always served first. Then the boys. Really? Is this benign, old-fashioned quaintness, merely? Or is it one more ingredient in an insidious pressure cooker of gender discrimination--against both girls and boys. Why can't we just go around in a circle and serve each in his or her turn? In my humble experience, the Hungarians are very specific and restrictive about gender roles. As an American mother of a daughter and son, I find it infuriating.


*

Our nursery school teacher instructed me that my 3.5 year-old child, who has boy parts, should wear boy clothes and not come in dresses. I am pretty sure one teacher told me that it would cause "problems" for him later in life. (Perhaps I didn't understand the Hungarian. I could swear that she said it might even cause dyslexia!!??) The other teacher said it would cause confusion in the classroom for the other boys. Leo agreed to wear his dress to school and then change into his play clothes for inside the classroom. (It is a habit here to wear a separate outfit for classroom play.) Slowly he mostly gave up the habit.


*


One day I arrived to pick up the kids. Izabella had her fingernails painted. The nursery school teachers decided it was a good idea to paint nails. They refused to paint Leo’s nails. As soon as we got home, we painted all our nails for the first time. I had never painted their nails before. I only paint my nails for special occasions, which amounts to about once year. On one hand, I was saving the activity for a rainy day. I was saving it for a special bonding moment. I suppose I was also avoiding the issue. It was easier to avoid nail polish than to deal with the chemicals and the issue of Leo also wanting to have his done. Finger nail polish is not at all a necessary part of childhood. Then the nursery school teachers took it upon themselves to not only paint the kids’ nails, but also to only paint the girls nails. The next day when it was time to go out the door to school, Leo insisted that I remove the color. He said that the teachers don’t allow boys to have nail polish. I told him that they were wrong and that boys and girls can enjoy nail polish. He removed it. We continued to reapply the paint for a few days. After several days, Leo forgot the teachers’ opinions and went to school with painted nails. Nothing was said, to me, about it.


*

In the nursery school there are three bathroom stalls for the kids to use. They designate the last stall for boys. The first two stalls have curtains. The last stall does not have a curtain. My son was shy to use the “boy’s” stall because it was entirely open to those using the bathroom. Often the entire class is using the space at once, washing hands and brushing teeth at the bank of sinks along one wall. When I asked the teacher why the boy’s stall lacked a curtain, she told me that boys always make a mess and it is better if they can be seen. (Read: Girls need privacy. Boys don’t deserve it.) I first noticed this when we started the school. Since then the curtain has been replaced.


*

A mother told me of a controversy at one of the local elementary schools. The policy was to keep the toilet paper at the teacher’s desk. When a student needed to use the restroom he or she had to ask the teacher for paper, indicating how much was needed. You know, #1 or #2. Put yourself back into your elementary school days, can you imagine how mortifying this would be? You can imagine that many kids had problems with constipation. Also, there was no hand soap in the bathrooms. The explanation was that it was too expensive to supply the bathrooms and that the kids wasted the supplies. When one parent offered to pay for the toilet paper and soap, it was decided that this was untenable because if they put it into the bathrooms the other classrooms would use it too. This is perhaps not a strong gender issue, but it calls to mind girls who give up school when they menstruate for lack of appropriate hygiene options at the school. We live in the modern world. Can we figure out a way to remove our excretory needs as an obstacle to learning?

*

Boys play soccer. Girls do ballet. Period. Except for the brave outliers. After being in the school for over a year, I finally learned that there are two girls in soccer. I was told there were none. My daughter wanted nothing to do with a class that had no girls. They did allow Leo to do ballet. And this term they let him try aerobics. He was the only boy. I thought aerobics was great because it is movement and dance. It should be a great way to exercise and have fun. Then I learned that they trained the aerobic girls to do a pom pom routine (with real pom poms) to perform for the soccer boys in a big game against another nursery school. My daughter got out there and did the cheer. My son, who also learned the cheer, refused to participate in front of the big crowd. Did he refuse because he was stage shy? Or did he refuse because it was very clear that he was the only boy in the cheer squad and the boys were on the soccer field? Why did they need to train the aerobics class as cheerleaders? How was that necessary? It was gender training. Of course they don’t see it this way.

*

My son at 4.75 will sometimes choose to dress in his sister’s clothes—a purple shirt with two large flowers and a purple skirt—to go to the park. My main complaint about this is that the skirt is too large and constantly slips off his hips. He knows the difference between “boy” and “girl” clothes. Sometimes he chooses “girl” clothes. He likes vibrant colors. Have you seen the choices for boys? All shades of brown and blue.

*

Leo recently chose the same shoes as his sister, ivory-colored mary janes with small flower details on the velcro strap. I overhead the following in the sandbox:


“Ah! Your shoes are very nice. They are girl shoes,” said a little girl.


Leo continues to dig.


“Why are you wearing girl things?”


Leo digs.


“Don’t you want to have boy things?”


Leo digs.


It seems he handles these incidents by stonewalling. It usually works. (What if one day it doesn’t work. What if older, bigger, meaner kids confront him?)


*

I wanted to buy two booster seats for a car trip. The salesman, who worked in a children’s high-end boutique, advised me that I should buy the smaller sized chair for my daughter. Girls grow slower and are smaller than boys. This is fundamentally wrong. It is informed by gender stereotypes. Not to mention that is entirely wrong in our family. Miss Izabella is in the 96th percentile for height, her little brother is in the 56th percentile.


*

A friend’s daughter attended a private nursery school in Budapest. She arrived one day to pick up her daughter. Her daughter told her about the day’s curriculum. The teachers decided to teach about marriage. They dressed the girls as brides. The boys gave a ring to a girl and proposed. When a little boy wanted to propose to his best friend David, they teachers told him no and then laughed at him when he become tearful.

*

Recently I attended an open house at an elementary school with both kids. It is time to enroll Izabella in the first grade. You are allowed to enroll at any school. Parents visit various schools and attend these open lessons to meet the teachers and form their impressions. The teachers here start a first grade class and then move up with them through the fourth grade. Selecting the right teacher is crucial as your child will work with them for the next four years. At this open house the teacher had her current fourth grade class perform a theater piece and then those students met with the little ones in a series of stations. The whole concept was based in sound pedagogy. The students acted beautifully. The only problem was the play they performed. It was an old Hungarian tale about a new housewife. When her husband leaves for work he tells their cat to cook, clean, and bring water from the well. The wife goes off to gossip with her friends. When the husband comes home he is angry that the cat did not do the work. This repeats three times (as all good tales do). At one point the husband is so angry with the "cat" that he take the cat and places it on the back of the wife and then beats the cat with a broom. (HELLO: WIFE BEATING). Then she goes to her parents for advice. They tell her to go home and be a a good wife. She goes home. She does all the cooking and cleaning. The story ends. I kept looking around the room. Surely another parent would raise an eyebrow? I was ready to walk out. Nope, not a word was spoken. All clapped with enthusiasm. Iza will not attend school there.


*

I am surprised that my feminism is the source for my son’s defense. I want to create a world in which my daughter can develop her strengths and discover her talents. I imagined my motherhood as a struggle to help my daughter. Instead I find the gender landscape far more treacherous for my son.



I tell my kids the following:


There is no such thing as a “girl” color of “boy” color.


Girls and boys can do anything.


There is no such thing as a “girl” toy or a “boy” toy.


I am sure that Hungarians would refute these statements.


I also tell my kids that a boy can marry a boy. Or a girl can marry a girl.

Izabella at 6

What is your favorite day?

Úszás nap



What is your favorite cake:

Lúdláb



What is your favorite park?

Károlyi Kért



What is your favorite food?

Ice-cream



What is your favorite activity?

Aerobik



What is your favorite film?

Cinderella



Who are your friends?

Zsófi and Isa



If you could go any place in the world, where would you go?

Japan, where sushi is



What is your favorite color?

Purple. All the colors of rainbow. Not grey, and brown



What is your favorite flower?

Dandelions



What will you be when you grow up?

Úszó tanár

Chicken Paprikas

Recently I became interested in braising techniques. I decided to play with my mother-in-law's paprikas recipe. Here is the way she makes it:

1 medium onion, diced
2 peppers (hopefully the thin, yellow ones) sliced into inch long narrow strips
2 carrots, grated

Place these into a pan and add oil. Cover and let soften.

2 small tomatoes (or 1 medium), sliced

Add tomatoes, cover.

1 table spoon sweet paprika.
1 kilo chicken breast, cut into bite-sized chunks

Add these to pot and let cook in own juices.

Add water to pot to just cover chicken. Let cook.

1 to 1 1/2 table spoons salt

Add salt.

Make a thickener:

Stir together one yolk, 1 table spoon flour (or more), and a bit of milk. Add more milk until you have about a coffee-cup-filled amount. Add a bit of the hot broth to the mixture and stir. Keep adding a bit at a time. Then pour the thickener through a strainer (to remove lumps) into the entire pot. Bring the pot back to a boil and then you are finished. (By the way, Katalin adds the egg white to the broth and lets it cook. Why waste it?)

As I mentioned, I prefer this dish served with mashed potatoes. It can also be served with tiny dumplings or store-bought pasta (like farfalle). I also think that cucumber salad makes the perfect side dish.

And here is the recipe I found as a point of comparison, from http://www.saveur.com/article/recipes/Hungarian-Chicken-Paprikash

INGREDIENTS

¼ cup lard or canola oil
1 (3–4-lb.) chicken, cut into 8 pieces
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 large yellow onion, minced
3 tbsp. Hungarian sweet paprika, plus more for garnish
2 cups chicken stock
2 plum tomatoes, cored, seeded, and cut into 1" pieces
1 Italian frying pepper, stemmed, seeded, and cut into 1" pieces
½ cup sour cream, for serving

INSTRUCTIONS
Melt lard or heat oil in a 6-qt. saucepan over medium-high heat. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Working in batches, cook, flipping once, until browned, 8–10 minutes. Transfer chicken to a plate; set aside. Add onion to pan; cook, stirring occasionally, until soft, about 8 minutes. Add paprika; cook, stirring, for 2 minutes. Return chicken and its juices to the pan. Add stock, tomatoes, and Italian frying pepper; bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, partially covered, until chicken is fully cooked, about 30 minutes. Transfer chicken and sauce to a serving platter; spoon sour cream over top and garnish with more paprika.



And the way it went down in my kitchen:


I had four chicken thigh/legs. I seasoned them with salt and pepper and then browned them for about five minutes per side and set aside. I drained off most of fat before softening the diced onion. After about five minutes I added a grated carrot and a sliced up pepper (the Hungarian style, thin, yellow-skinned and impossible to find in America.). I added 1 tablespoon sweet paprika and cooked for a few minutes. I returned the chicken to the pan. I added a sliced tomato and enough water to cover the chicken. Let it boil and returned it to a simmer for about 30 minutes. I then added the mother-in-law's thickener (see above). I salted it as needed. I served it with pasta noodles. I turned the Italian trick and finished the noodles for the last two minutes of cooking in some of the sauce from the chicken pot. Served with sour cream. And a cucumber salad.


I am sure braising the chicken first adds oil and so it must not be as healthy. Yet somehow the flavor was intensified. I likey.

**** Update!
I just found this version of the recipe which also uses a braising technique.  It does not use the carrot.  http://makeitbetter.net/dining/recipes/5928-chicken-paprikash-the-perfect-dish-to-fend-off-a-polar-vortex

Toot Toot

Board the first car on the metro.  As you exit dash to the driver's window.  The glass is shaded and you will see dimly two figures, one seated and one standing.  Wave and smile furiously.  The train will pull out of the stop.  Just as the driver enters the tunnel, he or she might just blare the horn.  Twice even.  At which point you jump for joy.

Of course it helps to do this in the company of two preschoolers.

Those Hungarians do have a friendly side.  At least the metro train drivers.

Chocolate Szalami

Hozzávalók:

• 30 dkg háztartási keksz
• 10 dkg vaj
• 25 dkg cukor
• 2 tojás
• 10 dkg kakaó
• 2 kaná rum

Elkészítés:

A cukrot a tojással jól kikeverjük, belekeverjük a vajat. Amikor már sima, hozzáadjuk a kakaót, a rumot és az előzőleg ledarált kekszet. Jól összedolgozzuk, szalámi formát készítünk, és alufóliába csomagoljuk. Legalább 4 óra hosszat hűtőben tároljuk. Aki szereti, megtöltheti ízlés szerinti krémmel.

source:  http://www.mindmegette.hu/csokiszalami.recept

Meat Pies 2014

French Meat Pie
by Sister M. Concepta Mermis

31/2 lb. pork
1 lb. beef
1 onion
2 tsp. salt
3 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. pepper
1 1/2 tsp. loves
1 tsp. celery salt
1 c. dry bread crumbs (or more)
Cook meat and 1 onion in water to cover meat, simmer about 45 minutes to 1 hour. Break up the meat with a wooden spoon as it cooks. Remove onion and discard. Set aside to cool overnight to allow fat to congeal on top. 
Skim off grease (use to make pastry). Add bread crumbs and seasonings. Taste and adjust seasonings.  Put meat mixture into pastry shell, top with crust. Slit the top of the crust to allow steam to escape. Bake on cookie sheet or foil in case the pie bubbles over. Bake about 35 minutes or until brown in 400 degree oven. Let stand thirty minutes before serving.

This year I used half a kilo of ground beef and half a kilo of ground pork.  (One kilo meat yielded about 5 cups of filling, enough for one 11-inch pan.)  I really think it should be mostly pork, however.  I think the beef overwhelms the spices.  I also halved the original spice amounts, but then added back the entire amounts and still felt that the spices were not strong enough.

Next year, more pork.  I'll aim for for 3/4 kilo pork, 1/4 kilo beef.  





I made my first pie crust from scratch this year.  I did not use the fat from the meat.  Instead I used only butter.  While the audience was delighted, I was not.  The crust was very crispy and had a heavy butter taste.  It was tasty, but it was not a pie crust.  I didn't have a pastry cutter.  So I froze the butter and used a vegetable grater instead.  Hopefully by next year the crust will have been conquered.  



Served with mashed potatoes and creamed peas (otherwise know as borsofozelek).  For dessert, homemade chocolate salami.  Recipe to follow.  

Thanksgiving 2013

We passed this year's Thanksgiving in Budapest.  This year we kinda, sorta ignored the holiday.

I did no cooking.  At all.

Instead we were invited to a small dinner party at which a chef prepared an authentic Thanksgiving holiday dinner.  How authentic?  The sweet potatoes had a bit of orange, ginger, whiskey and were topped with toasted marshmallows.  The only thing that could have made it more authentic would have been if the marshmallows would have been ever so slightly singed.

It was a grown-ups only dinner party.  No cooking.  No kids.  No Thanksgiving according to my accounting.

The pumpkin pie, however, was a delight.  (But there is no comparison to my my brother's!)

Curtain

Saturday, 23 February, 19:00. We will perform István Örkény's In Our Time and Ernő Szép's Kávécsarnok in one piece. 

Cast:
Alajos..............Stefan Schwach
Alizka..............Serafina Anttila
Egy vendég......Nicky Burt
Fanny..............Janet Kelley
Magda..............Nina Leeke
Rozi.................Florina Illés

Directed by Anikó Kelemen

If girls can wear pants, why can't boys wear dresses?

I have been instructed by our nursery school teacher that my 3.5 year-old child, who has boy parts, should wear boy clothes and not come in dresses. I am pretty sure one teacher told me that it would cause "problems" for him later in life. (Perhaps I didn't understand the Hungarian. I could swear that she said it might even cause dyslexia!!??) The other teacher said it would cause confusion in the classroom for the other boys. Thoughts? I have LOTS of thoughts about this issue, but don't want to color your responses. I would love to hear your responses, experiences, etc.

New Year's Day Menu 2013

French Meat Pie
by Sister M. Concepta Mermis

31/2 lb. ground pork
1 lb. ground beef

I managed to purchase .6 kilo pork and .6 kilo beef at the large market this year.

2 tsp. salt
3 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. pepper
1 1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1 tsp. celery salt
1 c. dry bread crumbs (or more)
1 onion

After cooking the meat with two small onions, I measured it and found that I had 8 cups of meat.  I roughly estimated that I started with half the amount of meat called for in the recipe.  So I divided the meat into 4-cup amounts.  For the French pie I added a bit less than half the prescribed spices.  Omitting celery salt because I couldn't manage to find it.  Instead I food-processed a stalk of celery and cooked it with the meat.  For the Hungarian pie I omitted the cinnamon and cloves and added 1 teaspoon paprika and 1 minced clove garlic.  

Cook meat and 1 onion in water to cover meat, simmer about 45 minutes to 1 hour. Break up the meat with a wooden spoon as it cooks. Remove onion and discard. Set aside to cool.

Skim off grease (use to make pastry). Add bread crumbs and seasonings.  Put meat mixture into pastry shell, top with crust. Slit the top of the crust to allow steam to escape. Bake on cookie sheet or foil in case the pie bubbles over. Bake about 35 minutes or until brown in 400 degree oven. Let stand about thirty minutes before serving.

I have never yet managed to make a decent pie crust and usually buy store-bought shells.  I could only find phyllo dough.  So.....this year it will be meat strudel!  I added a lot more than one cup of bread crumbs to eat mixture because I feared that that strudel could not handle too much liquid.  It was deemed more elegant than a pie and tasted not unlike an Cornish pasty without the vegetables.  

Search my blog for "meat pies" to see how I cooked this in previous years.

Christmas 2012

This was our first Christmas in Budapest at our new apartment.  Grandma lives with us and the entire Christmas feast was in  her hands.

A lovely snow fell on the city on the 23rd, setting the Christmas scene.

Christmas here, at least for our family, is celebrated on Christmas Eve.  That morning Laszlo took the kids out to see a children's movie.  This gave me time to wrap the gifts.  It was a modest selection this year by design and due to lack of time.  We have all been sick for most of December and Laszlo as in America. There was little time to shop.  I did make a last-minute trip to the WAMP, a Hungarian Design Market.  I made a pass through the market but was a bit overwhelmed at the options. So I headed back to the nearby mall.  The mall, however, was filled with junk.  The usual mass-market, made of toxic chemicals, shipped around the world, disney-themed stuff of the toy store.  I dashed back to the design marked and made a few lovely purchases just as the market closed the day before Christmas Eve.

In the afternoon I took the kids down the block to our local church for what was advertised as a nativity. I am sure it was lovely.  But I can't report for sure because we arrived thirty minutes late and heard a few hymns but spied not one shepherd.  The kids didn't seem to mind and we explored the church until the priest had locked the front doors and started to turn off the lights.

I led the kids to a local grocery store to buy yogurt, but lo-and-behold it was closed.  Everything was closed. Luckily the hotel on the corner was open and we took our time riding the elevator, searching for the hotel swimming pool, and finally crossing and recrossing the pedestrian bridge over the main street. We found a drink of water.  Used the bathrooms.  Had a minor tantrum.  Finally, I got the call.

The angels had arrived at the house.

We returned.  The angels had dropped some candies along the hallway and lit candles making a trail to the tree and all the gifts.  Wrapping paper exploded.  The kids could read all our names and distribute the packages.  Grandma Kelley and family were in attendance via Skype.  Daniel visited virtually as well.  Not to mention Livi.  It was a cozy family gathering around the glow of the laptops.

Dinner was stuffed cabbage.  It turns out that nagymama does not add tomato paste to her dish, which I believe I did last year.  She also refrains from adding extra sausage or other add-ins.  Simple, tasty, and not too cabbagy.  Champagne and szaloncukor rounded out the evening.  I bought the handmade szaloncukor chocolates from the Aztek Choxolat Cafe, a favorite spot of mine from our days on Semmelweiss utca.

One Billion Rising: Budapest

Hello, Budapest friends, I was wondering if you might want to be involved with a project that raises awareness about violence against woman.

Hunter Roberts, an American living in Budapest, would like to organize a local Budapest event as part of the worldwide One Billion Rising campaign. Here is the link:

http://onebillionrising.org/

Eve Ensler is a well-known activist in America who works to end violence against women and girls. I have worked on her campaigns in the past.

We plan to meet this coming Wednesday, the 19th. If you are interested, send me a private message or comment below.

Epic Party

Kedves x,

Most, hogy elkezdtük be- és el-rendezni budapesti életünket, arra gondoltunk, hogy folytatjuk egy kedvenc Bostoni hagyományunk, és meghívjuk a barátainkat, kedves ismerőseinket egy kellemes estére.

Ráadásul azt is fontosnak tartjuk, hogy megismertessünk olyan értékeket, amelyekről nem biztos, hogy eleget tudtok. Így lesz ez most is. Csíkszeredai barátom Részegh Botond elhozza legújabb festményeit, Dragomán György részelteket olvas fel a Botond képeihez írott novellájából, Palya Beát pedig talán ezekből inspirálódva hallhatjuk majd.

Ha lenne kedvetek velünk és barátainkkal tölteni egy estét, gyertek el November 24-én 19.00-tól.


Várunk szeretettel,
László, Janet, Iza es Leo.


PS. Kérlek jelezzétek, hogy el tudtok-e jönni.

Thanksgiving 2012

Cancelled.

phew.

instead:  mama drinking mulled wine, then pinot noir at local cafe.  tata putting kids to bed.  mama blogging and attending to email correspondence.  eavesdropping on an ESL discussion between two middle-aged psychologists on a date. they are jotting notes on a shared napkin.  He is German, ya.

Pink Martini is playing on the radio.

grandma made kolbasz (sausage) and mashed potatoes for dinner.

thanks indeed.  i'll take it.

Theater Project

Hello, All!

Happy Thanksgiving!

We rehearsed today and decided to change our schedule.  Please give us your feedback about the following dates:

Tuesday, Nov. 27, 5 - 7 pm, at Ulysses Language School.  Characters needed:  Alajos, Franny, and Rozi.

Tuesday, Dec. 4, 5 - 7 pm, at Janet's.  All characters needed

Monday, Dec. 10, 5 - 7 pm, at Janet's.  All characters needed.  ****This date is changed to Monday because Aniko is not able to come on that Tuesday.  We could do it Monday with her OR meet on Tuesday without her.

Tuesday, Dec. 18, 5 - 7, at Janet's. All Characters needed.

Saturday, Dec. 22, 7 pm  THE SHOW!


thanks,

janet

To Hear a Blind Man

registered somewhere alongside cars, trams, and the sounds of Hungarian:  click, click, click, click.  I move to the curb before I fully realize that this is the sound of a blind person making his own way down the city street. this I love.

a toddler's mood escalating toward a tantrum is redirected toward joy upon the discovery a young man on a small white bicycle doing spins and jumps in the square.

watching students flow out of a university building.  not a primary colored parka or a pair of sneakers to be seen.  

having grandma put the kids to bed while we walk ten minutes to the theater.

the new Belgian restaurant that opened on our block.

roasted chestnuts from street vendors.

the old women selling flowers.  the bent-in-half posture, her headscarf.  the way she grasps in both hands a bouquet of flowers freshly cut from her own garden.  when you buy a bunch, she slowly wraps the wet stems in newspaper.  she is unfailingly polite.  she is old.  her flowers are fresh and fragrant.  of course I buy two bunches, one for each child to carry home to grandma.  

the Roma women lofting brassieres into the air at the metro entrance.  imploring you with the promise of a good price.

Christmas markets and mulled wine.

the automatic and effusively generous offer of help when boarding a tram with a stroller and two toddlers.

no car.  only public transportation.  

walking everywhere.

pacing yourself with the crowd.

choosing to stand on the right or walk on the left down the escalator to the metro train.

being deeply immersed in a novel on my iPhone while seated on a tram and at the same time scanning the doorway at each stop to see if my seat can be offered up to a commuter who needs it.

not multi-tasking so much as living-connected.