Old Shoes - New Trip

Yesterday, in the store, one of our department managers gave me a big hug and said "I love you!" It was random, for no real reason. We were just having a great time.

She immediately blushed and apologized. She stammered, "Oh, my God, I don't mean in that way! I just mean I'm happy to have you back from vacation. We all missed you."

This led us all into a discussion about the words, "I love you" and what has happened to their use.

When did it become politically incorrect to tell someone with whom you are not romantically involved, or who is not a relative, that you love them?

When did we decide that the feelings of great affection we have for special people in our lives can not appropriately be called "love"?

I think this is a generational thing. Somewhere along the line, my generation (baby boomers) stopped using the words. Or at least we started being very stingy with them. This is very curious, don't you think? After all, we were the hippy free-love generation. What happened to us?

The younger, college aged, booksellers in our store commented that they tell their friends they love them all the time. I'm glad. I hope the continue the practice into middle-age.

Our last week baking out of Gina's Dolce Italiano is a transition to our next project -- Sunday Slow Scoopers.

SSB was the kick in the pants I needed to get over my bias against baking. Prior to this fun project, I always viewed baking as too restrictive. It requires and exactness that is hard for me. I love to 'tinker' with recipes. But, tinkering with a baking formula can spell disaster.

I'm now a convert. There are many more recipes in the book that I plan to try on my own. No need for a Sunday deadline to prod me.

Although we wrapped up with Toasted Almond Gelato, I just had to bake. Couldn't help myself.

One of Dan's all-time favorite cookies is the Chinese Almond Cookie. I thought it would be fun to do a little Italian-Asian Fusion and pair them with the Toasted Almond Gelato.

Gina's recipe was so simple. I used sliced almonds with the skins still on and took her recommendation to toast the almonds to as dark a color as possible without scorching. I wanted the maximum flavor she promised.

Then, into the pan with the milk, cream, sugar and honey they went.

After the mixture cooled to room temperature, I strained it into a pitcher and added the Amaretto, Almond Extract, and salt. Then put the pitcher in the fridge for the night.

First thing this morning I took the freezing chamber out of the deep freeze, poured in the mix and turned it on. Then just ignored it while I fixed pancake breakfast for my four grandsons.

After 35 minutes, I scooped it into a freezer bowl so it could harden some in the freezer.
This is what was left for me to enjoy.

This afternoon I baked traditional Chinese Almond Cookies -- only about 1 1/2 inch across instead of 3 inches. After the egg wash, I sprinkled them with sugar and the extra ground almonds.

Here is Gina's Toasted Almond Gelato. Pure and simple. Isn't it beautiful?

And here it is paired with the almond cookies.

We spent our first few days in Budapest checking out the obvious attractions. The "postcard" sights, as my mother calls them.

Then after a bit of back and forth discussion, we decided to spring for the 72 hour Budapest Card.

Truthfully, we were getting it more for the transportation advantages during the searing heat than for the other features. Lucky for us, that Budapest was experiencing a heat wave.

Otherwise . . .

We would have gone to visit the famous Elephant Gate at the Budapest Zoo, but we probably would not have paid 1,400 Ft each to go into the zoo itself. After all, we have one of the top zoos in the world in St. Louis. Almost any other zoo is just a zoo. Right? Wrong, because I would not have discovered in St. Louis that I can speak fluent Meerkat. No kidding! I have this weird ability to make a trilling/clicking noise with my tongue that Meerkats seem to view as facinating conversation.

Without the Budapest Card, we wouldn't have had a prayer of discovering the Hungarian Museum of Commerce and Catering, hidden on the ground floor of an office building. We would not have learned about Hungary's long and proud food history -- much beyond goulash. Nor would we have learned about the vibrant revitalization of the food culture in modern Budapest. Move over Food Network, is all I can say! Oh, yeah, and I wouldn't have had the opportunity to pose here, just for Palma!

We generally go out of our way to visit a local cemetery when we are in a foreign city. But one wasn't immediately evident in Budapest. The Budapest card offered entry into the Kegyeleti Muzeum (Piety Museum), which was located in the city's main cemetery a fair distance from the city center. The museum was interesting in its own right, but the cemetery was astounding. It will get its own blog entry with many pictures! For now, here is a teaser.

The Magyar Mezogazdasagi Museum (Hungarian Agricultural Museum) is an homage to taxidermy displayed in a castle that should be the exhibit all by itself. Well to be fair, there is much more than just the hundreds of stuffed animals there. The displays on farming were truly facinating.

All of these things I've mentioned (and unlimited transportation) are just a small sample of what was available to us through the Budapest Card. The best 12,000 Ft we spent the entire week! It comes with a comprehensive guide book to all the points of interest where it can be used. Within that guide book were great maps that allowed us to plan our days in the most productive way we could. No backtracking, no arrivals to closed doors. It was great!

Have you ever visited a place in another country without preparing yourself in advance with information about it? Did you find that the place was not a regular tourist destination and therefore you didn't find onsight tour guides or at least a pamphlet printed in four languages?
Were you astounded and yet not comprehending of what you were seeing?
Did you leave with the sense that you have just visited a truly extraordinary place that you must now learn all you can about?

In Budapest that place for us was Kerepesi Cemetery.

We wondered for three hours through a magical sculpture park masquerading as a cemetery. Huge mausoleums, two long arcades, and hundreds of free standing graves. We rarely saw any grave without at least a life size statue incorporated into its tombstone.

I'm going to show you some pictures. And tell you what we knew at the time, or at least surmised, about this cemetery and these pictures. Then I'm going to add the facts we learned from our research after returning home.

Lujza Blaha: 1850 - 1926

Our reaction: "Wow, that's one WELL FED rich lady. I wonder who she was?"
The facts: She was born as Lujza Rendl. At an early age she was extremely popular as a child actor. She married conductor Janos Blaha in 1866 and changed her name. She went on to be the most popular female actor and singer of her time, earning many major awards and having a square named after her in the city. Her title was: "The Nation's Nightingale". She died of pneumonia.

Bela Pallik: 1854 - 1908

Our reaction: "With the big cross, the staff, and the sheep, we're guessing - Priest? You know, 'good shepherd' and all that."
The facts: Bela Pallik is considered to be one of Europe's most important animal painters from the Hungarian school. He is most well known for his depictions of farm animals, especially sheep. duh Here is his most famous painting.

Adolph Czako: 1860 - 1942

Our reaction: "Hey, look. It's Harry Potter as an old man! See, he even has the scar on his forehead."
The facts: Dr. Aldolph Czako was the Dean of Engineering for Budapest University of Technology and Economics (the MIT of Hungary). In 1920, he led a fight to prevent the radical right at the university from implementing racial quotas designed to exclude Jews from entry.

Mihaly Vorosmarty: 1800 - 1855

Our reaction: "This is probably the guy our street is named after. Wonder what he is famous for."
The facts: Yes, he is indeed the guy our street was named for. He was a poet, and acclaimed as a national treasure. His funeral was on November 21st which was declared a national day of mourning, and ensured that a street would be named after him, and one after his funeral date. There is a square named for him as well. Here is his monument in that square.

Antal Kocze: 1872 - 1926

Our reaction: "Wish we could read music. Maybe we'd recognize the song and figure out who he was."
The facts: Not likely since we aren't familiar with Gypsy music. A master violinist and composer, he was called "King of the Hungarian Gypsy Virtuosos". His music was and is performed by many well known Gypsy bands.if you google his name you will get 11 pages of listings.
Here is a link to a listing where you can here a few bars from some of the songs he wrote. Not performed by him, of course.
http://www.classicsonline.com/catalogue/product.aspx?pid=257249

We have dozens of photographs from our day at Kerepesi. Most of them, I will never be able to identify without going back for another visit and making detailed notes for research. Hmmmm...

I'll leave you with a few of my favorites.

A Brief History of Kerepesi Cemetery, its Hugarian name: Kerepesi uti temeto.
It was founded in 1847, however the first burial was not until 1849. In 1885 the municipal authorities declared that Kerepesi was Budapest's "Ground of Honour". This ensured that most of the countries notable statesmen, writers, sculptors, architects, artists, composers, scientists, actors, and actresses would be interred there. The first notable burial was Mihaly Vorosmarty in 1855.
The cemetery was declared closed for burials in 1952. Partly because of damages during WWII and partly for political reasons because the Communist wanted to divert attention away from the graves of those who were perceived to have "exploited the working class".
In 1958, during the Socialist Period, a Mausoleum for the Labour movement was created and burials began again. In 1989, after the fall of Communism, the burials ceased for a final time, and almost all references to communism were removed from tombs. The scars where red stars were chiseled off are still visable on many monuments.
However, the cemetery is still perceived to be "The Communist Cemetery", causing many to avoid it. A notable example: One of the sons of famous composer, Bela Bartok, refused to allow his father's ashes to be interred there.
At 58 hctrs., it is indeed the largest sculpture park in Europe.
The cemetery is now a quiet park with fewer and fewer surviving families to visit its eternal residents.

research credits:
http://disappearingbudapest.blogspot.com

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kerepesi_Cemetery

http://www.findagrave.com/php/famous.php?FScemeteryid=639592&page=cem

This is the shot from our apartment window looking out over the Bay of Kotor to the late night lights of Kotor City and the ancient fortification wall that climbs the mountain behind.
I loved the way the ambient light just barely illuminates the two lonely row boats anchored in the still water at the bottom right of the photo.

Here is the view during the daytime. The camera angle is oriented slightly left so it isn't exact.

Jerry led off the new challenge with a great selection. He chose Butterscotch Pecan Ice Cream.

An easy and rich recipe. As usual, I organize my ingredients first.

I cooked the custard and then cooled it in an ice bath before putting it in a sealed container and refridgerating it.

With the custard safely in the fridge, I turned my attention to making the meringue nest for a serving dish. I decided that a maple flavor would be a good complement to the butterscotch pecan.

And here is how the dish looks on the plate.

My almost-five-year-old grandson recently completed a week at "Safety Camp". Eager to share his new wisdom, here he is giving his little brother and twin cousins a lesson in street crossing safety.

At the moment I snapped this photo, he was patiently explaining that you must first listen, then look left, then right, then left again.

It is officially named The Parish church of Our Lady Mary, but it is known and beloved as Matyas Church, after King Matyas Corvinus.
We were anticipating this visit, to a church, whose confused exterior blend of neo-gothic/neo-baroque and its glazed tile roof are legendary. So it was a bit of a disappointed to find it completely shrouded in scaffolding.

As the site of many royal coronations, marriages, & burials, Matyas is an integral part of Hungary's national and historical pride.
During the amost 150 years that began in 1547 when the Turks ruled Hungary, the church had been converted to a Mosque.
The legend is that during a worship service, an image of the Madonna appeared to the Turkish rulers and convinced them that they were about to be driven away.
It was restored to its current appearance in the late 1800s.

We entered to an extremely dim and dark interior. It felt like a cave. And seemed almost devoid of decoration. It took several minutes for our eyes to adjust to the gloom.

But once they did we were treated to these amazing frescoed patterns covering almost every square inch of the interior.

Here is a link to the churches website where the unusual painting is explained.
http://www.matyas-templom.hu/eng/templomtortenet.html

Matyas is just another reason we will have to return to Budapest someday. We need to see her exterior without the scaffolding.

When I found out what this week's PhotoHunt theme would be I knew immediately what photo I would post.

You can't get much more colorful than this precise lineup of painted wooden nesting dolls from one of the upper level stalls in the Central Market Hall in Budapest.

Central Market Hall, opened in 1896, is a spectacular building designed by Hungarian architect Samu Pecz. It has the architectural feel of that time period when there was a love affair with exposed steel. It reminds you of the Eiffel Tower or the Santa Justa Elevator in Lisbon. That shouldn't surprise, since Pecz and Eiffel were contemporaries and probably studied each other's work. Plus the architect of the Santa Justa was a protege of Eiffel's.

It is a huge, airy, and beautiful place. Though we were there in the mid-afternoon and most of the shoppers had come and gone, every food stall was still well stocked and spotlessly clean.

The 100 plus food stalls are on the ground floor level, were selling everything edible you can imagine. Sausage stalls, meats, fish, spices, veggies & fruit. And, of course, there were dried peppers everywhere.

The upper level, a sort of gallery overlooking the ground floor, had less than half the number of stalls because it didn't extend into the center. They were mostly mostly traditional needlework, crafts, and tourist trinkets. This is where I got the shot of the nesting dolls. There were also several large restaurants on the upper level.

If you plan to visit Budapest, do not fail to save part of a day for Central Market Hall. The only thing I would do differently would be to arrive early in the morning to experience the hustle and bustle of the local shoppers. As it was, we were pretty much all tourists.

When Krista chose Tiramisu for this week, I thought it would be an involved, complex recipe. But, I am again surprised at how easy ice cream is to make. Tiramisu is a recipe with an ultra-rich result that belies its simplicity. The ingredient list is short.

After mixing the ingredients in a blender, I stuck it in the fridge and made the mocha fudge sauce for the ripple. Well, actually I made the sauce twice.

I really don't like to use corn syrup in any recipe if I can avoid it. Call it a social protest, if you like. I just think the world would be a better place if corn syrup had never been invented.

I tried substituting honey for corn syrup. It doesn't work. Even the mildly flavored honey I used overpowered the chocolate. So, I started again and used the corn syrup. (Note to self: See if I can make a very thick version of the sugar syrup I use in my liqueurs as a replacement for corn syrup.)

At any rate, after a night in the freezer, here is the finished product, ready to scoop.

Cindy made hers early and posted a picture on the food board at SlowTalk. She served it in a coffee cup, which I thought was a very cute idea. So I stole it. And for those of you on SlowTrav who are contemplating a trip to Puglia, that cup and saucer are from a cool pottery works in Grottaglie called Ceramiche Nicola Fasano.

I used the heavier southern Italian recipe version for the pizzelle. It has more eggs and flour. It comes out sturdier and less lacy so it can hold up to being used to make the ice cream sandwiches. I eliminated the anise flavoring and added two heaping tablespoons of finely ground espresso coffee beans and four heaping tablespoons cocoa powder.

The batter for the southern Italian version isn't really a batter at all. It is more like a soft cookie dough that you roll into one inch balls and place on the griddle.

It makes a very large recipe, so I have several dozen to take to work tomorrow morning for everyone's breakfast. I picked out the best shaped 12 to make a half-dozen ice cream sandwiches. They're in the freezer for a last minute dessert sometime in the future.

A little update here. I just had lunch. Left over coffee from breakfast. Heated in a cappucino cup. Two huge scoops of Tiramisu Ice Cream to turn it into a decadant cafe latte. The pizzelle make great dunkers, tool

I've resisted doing the Meme, until I saw this one on Krista's blog. Curiosity got the best of me.

I was more than a little surprised to discover that I have eaten or drunk 74 of the 100 on the list.

Of the other 26, I would intentionally avoid only 10.

As a disclaimer:
Most of these food experiences are a direct result of having not one but TWO of the country’s best international grocery stores right here in St. Louis. Global Foods is in the suburban town of Kirkwood, close to my house. Its sister store Jay International is in South City in the trendy South Grand neighborhood. I wish I could claim that it was because I was just that well traveled.

The way this meme works: Copy the list below. Bold every item on the list that you have tasted. Add comments about the experiences, as well as comments on why you haven't or wouldn't try the others. In Kim's blog, she put the items that she hadn't tried yet, but was willing to in italics.

The Omnivore’s Hundred

1.Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare (I just don’t like my meat completely raw)
5. Crocodile (Actually alligator. Doesn’t that count?)
6. Black pudding (and don’t intend to)
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle (and white)
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes (My best friend's uncle used to make the best plum wine you ever tasted.)
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries (blackberries—but the chiggers were so bad when we were picking them, I've forgotten if they tasted amazing or not)
23. Foie gras (ethically opposed)
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese (I can’t get past seeing the taste buds on the tongue pieces)
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper (would love to, but afraid)
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac not with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly (is this like jello shots?) But, no anyway.
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects (just one...chocolate covered grasshopper)
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk (warm unpasturized, straight from the goat)
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu (I’m afraid I’ll die)
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut (way too many. There is a drive through less the 3 miles from my house)
50. Sea urchin (no, but can I substitute barnacles?)
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini (dislike gin—prefer vodka or tequila)
58. Beer above 8% ABV (not a beer drinker at any percentage)
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads (yuck)
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian (no amount of cash would induce me to even touch it)
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe (I’m considering trying to make it)
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum (perfect name because it is Yummy)
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky (I like the bitter black chocolate flavor)
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare (only we just call it rabbit)
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse (ethically opposed)
90. Criollo chocolate (truly don't get the hype)
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa (I like it as an alternate to mint sauce for lamb)
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee (I love coffee, but I don't get the hype here, either.)
100. Snake (Rattlesnake to be exact. My Dad used to love to grill chunks of it on kabob sticks. It’s very good.)

One of our most anticipated visits for our time in Budapest was Europe's largest synagogue.

With its distinctive twin onion domes it is one of the most recognizable buildings of Budapest's skyline.

The interior is breathtaking. Words really can't describe how beautiful it is. It can hold up to 3,000 worshippers. The woodworking of the women's galleries is amazing. I apologize that I was so taken with the interior, I completely forgot to turn around and get a picture of the huge rose window with the light coming in.

Since I'm not Jewish, I don't know the proper names for much of what I photographed.

So rather than embarass myself, I'll just post the photos for you to enjoy.

Next to the synagogue is an interesting museum collection of historical relics, Judica devotional items and objects dating back to ancient Rome.

On the top floor of the museum is a series of stark white walls lined with photographs. This is the Holocaust Memorial Room.

Although photographs were permitted, and actively encouraged by the museum staff, I really couldn't bring myself to take any. In fact, I had a hard time looking at the series of exhibit photographs. The inhumanity was just too overwhelming.

So I'll leave you with only two photos. One of the entry into the exhibit, and one as we exited into the lovely courtyard behind. It is of the 1991 weeping willow sculpture dedicated to the 600,000 Hungarian Jews murdered during WWII. Each silvery leaf bears a name.

Just sit right back & you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port aboard this tiny ship.

The mate was a mighty sailing man, The skipper brave & sure.

Five passengers set sail that day for a three hour tour,
A three hour tour

The weather started getting rough, the engine smoked alot.

If not for the courage of the fearless crew
The Minnow would be lost,
The Minnow would be lost.

That, my friends, is my version of our harrowing, death-defying trip across Lago Trasimeno!
Now, we shall see how Alessandra tries to spin it in the face of my photographic evidence.

This post is a bit out of order as far as my entries about our recent trip to Budapest, Montenegro, & Italy. But, the ferry ride from Montenegro to Italy was when I took the only photo that qualified for the PhotoHunt assignment of 'wrinkled' for this week.

We are pretty easy going travellers. We don't require first class accomodations, and aren't inclined to pay for them. So, when we booked our tickets on Sv. Stefan II operated by Montenegro Lines, we decided we could tolerate one night of going down the hall to the bathroom and we didn't need an outside cabin. After all, my mantra is "All hotel rooms look the same with the lights out." That is, of course, providing they are clean.

Our cabin wasn't. I don't know if you can tell from the picture just how filthy the mattress was. No mattress pad, Just a thin flat sheet covering a saggy and grimy green canvas 'sack' stuffed with God knows what! The sheet kept coming untucked. The carpet was so dirty and coated with crud, we could not identify the color. I should have taken a picture of the floor, but to tell you the truth, I just didn't want to look at it long enough for that.

The only other picture I took inside the cabin was of the sink area. It appeared, thankfully, clean. However, this was a bring-your-own-towel proposition.

Our cabin -- inside two beds with sink, but no bathroom was E87 per person ($260 total). We thought that was a steep price, so how bad could the cabin be? Right? We had no intention of paying the E180 per person for a deluxe cabin.

Had we known then, what we know now, we'd have opted to sit up all night in the airline style seats for E66 per person. We would have saved $63 and probably slept just as well. PLUS we wouldn't have come away feeling like we had just been exposed to every disease and microscopic insect known to man.

When I get to this point in our trip, I'll post some other photos of the ship and provide a more balanced assessment of the entire experience. Fortunately for us, the cabin was the only really awful part.

It was Terry's turn to pick the flavor, and for a hot August week, she hit a home run! Refreshing isn't a good enough word to describe Pina Colada Sherbet. This recipe had so few ingredients and was so simple, it seemed pointless to take a bunch of pictures of the process.

However, it did seem that it was a lot more volume than some of the other recipes. Even with my 2 quart ice cream freezer, I found that it was expanding over the top of the lid. So here is how I solved that problem.

I had planned to do coconut shells, but they were a little large. It would have meant that the sherbet was lost in the bowl, or that the serving had to be much bigger than anyone should eat in one sitting. So, I put left over fresh pineapple chuncks in the bottom of the coconut shell before adding a couple of scoops of sherbet.

Then I though, "If I'm going to use the pineapple, shouldn't you be able to see it?" So I dug out a margarita glass with a hollow stem. I put the pineapple chuncks down into the stem and about half way up in the glass. Then I scooped the sherbet on top.

Dan got the coconut shell and I got the margarita glass. We were both happy.

This weekend I did two day tour of 80 countries.
I bought gifts for my grandchildren in Tiawan, Bolivia, Egypt, and Nepal.

I enjoyed watching interesting dance presentations in India, Scandinavia, Thiland, Bosnia, Greece, Spain, Bolivia, Liberia, Egypt, & the Appalacian US.

By eating small 'tasting' portions I managed to graze my way through Nigeria, Afganistan, Argentina, Berma, Eritrea, Peru, Pakistan, Scotland, Iran, Vietnam, Ethiopia, Belize, Turkey, Cuba, Bosnia, Thiland, Haiti, Senegal, & Brazil.

There were twice again as many cuisines that I didn't manage to get to.

It would be impossible to say which food I liked best. I like ALL of them best. But the actual experience that I enjoyed the most was the Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony. I hope the lovely lady who was my gracious hostess manages to have her son check this blog entry out for her. I promised her she was the first picture I posted from the 2008 International Institute of St. Louis' annual Festival of Nations in Tower Grove Park.

First you roast the coffee beans.

While the coffee brews, set the mood with some lovely incense.

From brew pot to serving vessel.

My own cup of coffee being poured by my hostess.

And in Ethiopian I thank my hostess for that delightful experience. Ameseginalehu

I'm really, really tired of seeing Paula Deen's name in front the words Gooey Butter Cake.

A good cook can take any recipe and make it her own, a gracious cook always gives credit to the source and inspiration for the recipe.

The buuttaahhhh, buuttaahhhh, buttaahhhh queen of southern cooking did not invent every recipe in the USA that happens to use butter in large quantity.

She can add all the peanut butter & banana, pineapple, pumpkin, or chocolate chips she chooses. She can serve twenty versions in her restaurant, and name them all after dead rock-and-roll stars if she wishes. But, Gooey Butter Cake still isn't a southern recipe, It is no more the original creation of Paula Deen than pasta is the creation of Olive Garden.

Gooey Butter Cake is a solidly Midwestern tradition from St. Louis, Missouri. Yes, for those geographically challenged on the the left and right banks of this country, Missouri is in the Midwest, not the South.

Somewhere in the ethnic German neighborhood of Bevo Mill in south St. Louis in the 1930s, an unidentified baker made a mistake with a coffee cake recipe and the rest is legend.

Up until about the early 1970s you bought your freshly baked Gooey Butter Cake in one of our many, many wonderful German bakeries. They wrapped it loosly in waxed paper and twine for you to carry home to a very impatient breakfast crowd.

Then a commercial wholesale bakery started producing it for sale in grocery stores. Now you will find it in every grocery store in the St. Louis area. It's good, but it isn't real German bakery Gooey Butter Cake. The two major mass producers are Entenmann's and Haas.

If you want something closer to the real thing, you need to try making it yourself.

I own at least a dozen local cookbooks that contain Gooey Butter Cake recipes. Most of them are the spiral bound church fund raiser type. A few of them are slick productions from groups such as the Junior League or the Missouri Governor's Mansion Preservation Society. Some of these cookbooks date back to the 1950s.

In February, 2005 I took a Gooey Butter Cake to a SlowTrav GTG in Boston. For those of you who are SlowTrav Premium members you can find the thread where I posted the recipe here: Gooey Butter Cake from the Boston GTG

My point is, Gooey Butter Cake was an established St. Louis tradition before Paula Deen was even born. Not to mention before she became the spokesperson for all foods made with butter.

But, for those of you who need written proof from a source other than the St. Louis area, here is a 1989 article in the New York Times.

Who knows, maybe Paula read that 1989 article while she was making those "Bag Lady" lunches that pre-date her celebrity. Maybe the idea went into her own personal recipe box. Maybe it became one of her favorite recipes and she has tinkered with all those various ridiculous flavors for so long she just forgot she didn't have the original idea.

I admit that I'm not a fan of Paula Deen's southern cooking style. I don't care to watch her show because it is all so loud and frantic. My taste runs to a nice low-key and relaxed Giada De Laurentiis or Ina Garten. But, I am a great admirer of Paula's self-made-woman success story. I mean this sincerely when I say that they ought to make her a case study at Harvard Business School.

I just wish she'd publicly acknowledge that she has borrowed the Gooey Butter Cake from a legion of unknown and unsung little German bakery ladies in St. Louis, Missouri.

There, I feel better now that I've gotten that off my chest.

Tomorrow's post takes us out of Budapest and on our way to Montenegro. So what better way to leave this great city behind than with images of its festival food?

We were lucky enough to be in Budapest on June 21st - the summer celebration day on the Chain Bridge that spills out into the plazas on either end of the bridge. On the Pest side were the traditional Hungarian food booths.

We started with a little snack. Hungary's new answer to kettle corn, cotton candy or funnel cakes. This baked-on-a-tube doughy treat is a new invention in Hungary. It first made its appearance at a festival in 2003 and has become a runaway hit. It's called Kurtoskalacs. A basic sweet dough is rolled onto a frame and baked. The baker slides it off the frame and it looks like a very fat paper towel tube. You choose the flavor you want it dipped in (we picked coconut). All I can say is "Move over, funnel cakes!"

After some music and people watching we wondered over to the largest of the food booths. The one with the most divine smells spreading out in all directions.

This wasn't your basic cart on wheels portable festival booth. This thing was massive. Set up with a clapboard back wall; antique food cupboards for atmosphere; and big jars of pickled everything for decoration.

The menu was beyond our ability to read.

But it didn't really matter. Everything worth considering was spread out in front of us in three foot wide woks, bubbling away. All we had to do was try to keep our drooling tongues inside our heads as we pointed to our selections.

As we tucked into our choices, I thought about the folks back home who would soon be going to Fair St. Louis under the Gateway Arch. It's a really great party with lots of food booths. But, I wasn't homesick, and I didn't care much that I would be missing out on the typical American festival offerings of hotdogs and french fries.

It is time to leave the rest of Budapest for you to discover for yourself. If I don't move on to Montenegro, I'll still be writing these travel entries six months from now.

Saturday means another PhotoHunt assignment. This week -- BEAUTIFUL. And I have the perfect picture from our trip to represent that thought.

We met a gentleman on our train ride from Belgrade to Podgorica. I'd seen him on the platform in Belgrade. Four or five people stood around him with solemn faces as he prepared to board. A young boy of about seven or eight was clinging to his leg and crying. It was obvious that he was well loved and missed before he was gone.

He sought us out within ten minutes of our departure from Belgrade. He came to our coach, and welcomed us to the train as he shook our hands. A two-fisted shaker, like an evangelist, he grabbed my right hand with his and covered both of them with his left. It felt like I was receiving some sort of benediction with that handshake. His hands were surprisingly soft and smooth. I would have expected rough calloused hands to match the rest of his appearance.

His English was thickly accented, but grammatically flawless. He switched from English to either Serbian or Montenegrin (I couldn't tell) effortlessly as he divided his attention between us and our Montenegrin couch mates.

We learned nothing about him. He never bothered to ask our names and never shared his, or anything about himself. The only thing he let slip was an offhand comment about an important historical event. That allowed me to do the math in my head to make an educated guess at his age. Otherwise, he skillfully deflected all inquiries.

Keeping up a running one-sided dialogue, he touched on everything from astronomy to engineering to river navigation to beekeeping.

He bounced from deep philosophical comments on national identity to the nature of the animal-human bond to his admiration for Mark Twain and Marlon Brando.

Without asking if any of us suffered with the problem, he highly recommendation an herbal preparation of Wormwood leaves as a treatment for intestinal parasites.

He seemed enthralled with Native Americans. He was quite pleased to learn that my great-great-grandmother was 1/2 Cherokee. Then he launched into a disertation on the Trail of Tears.

He wondered from car to car, leaving us for an hour at a time, then reappearing and picking up the conversation where he had left off.

He left the train about three hours before Podgorica at a desolate looking stop with no visible town. Just a small concrete shelter next to the tracks. He had been in a different car when he stepped off the train, and we didn't realize he was leaving. Just as the wheels started moving again, I stood up to lean out the window for some photos. He called up to me, "Aren't your going to take my picture, my new friend?" So, I did.

I have no idea who the woman was. Perhaps his daughter come to collect him. Maybe she had been on the train all along and just didn't participate in his ambassadorial strolls through the train cars. She had a bored but patient look of someone who had been through this many times before. She didn't bother to look up at us.

You know when you meet a spirit that is too big for its body? The eyes flash a fire of restless intelligence and every line on the face testifies to a perpetual smile. That's what made this man so beautiful.

So, how did I figure out his aproximate age? During his discussion of national identity, he let it slip that he was just old enough to join the resistance in time to participate in the great Christmas Uprising. That would have been early January of 1919.
I don't know what age would have been considered "old enough" to be a resistance fighter in 1919, but I'm guessing somewhere between 14 and 18.
And the reason I'm guessing that the woman with him might be his daughter (or even granddaughter) rather than his wife? She looks too young to have a husband who is at least 103 years old, doesn't she?

As you may of noticed, the Sunday Slow Scoopers are freezing our way through some really yummy flavors in "The Perfect Scoop" by David Lebovitz

I can't believe we are already at week four of our fifteen week project. Week four is Nancy's week and she picked Lavender-Honey Ice Cream, p. 64.

I called my aunt, who raises culinary lavender on her ranch in No. California and ask her to send me some. Then I started thinking about how I would present the finished product for my photos and what bit of sweet I might bake to go with it.

As making ice cream gets easier and easier, the way it's served seems to have become more important to me. I have one of those stemless martini sets that seems just perfect for filling with lavender. Because I think lemon and lavender are made for each other, I made Lavender Lemon Cookies to go with the ice cream. So, I decided to add lemon slices to the serving dish.

Some of the cookies I left plain because I really liked the way the lavender and lemon peel speckled them. But, I also made a simple lavender-honey frosting to ice some of them. I like that look as well, and the icing is delicious.

Time is too short for me to put together the book I planned. I knew better. I should have done it the moment we got home from our trip. I waited too long.

Now, I must hurry. I took my pictures to the instant print store for 4x6 prints. I bought a scrapbook and I'm putting together an album now.

Tomorrow is Labor Day, but while everyone else is preparing for their BBQ, Dan and I will be driving to our friends house with the album. We've been told not to delay. Too little, too late.

Thank you Marta, for sending me yours. And thank you to everyone else who lit candles. I'm very grateful. Here are the photos I've collected. I'm going in reverse order of our travels.

ITALY

The private chapel at Borgo di Montemegiano dedicated to San Antonio di Padua and The Abbazia di Montecorona in Umbertide

The Tomb of San Francesco di Assisi and St. Mary Over Minerva in Assisi.

St. Augustine & S. Dominico in Gubbio

MONTENEGRO

San Nikola and San Trifone in Kotor

San Luca in Kotor and The Chapel of Our Lady of Salvation in the fortification wall overlooking Kotor and Kotor Bay

The Monastery at Ostrog and Roadside Shrine Near Ostrog

A Monastery near Vilusi and A nameless chapel near Grahovo

A Chapel in Cetinje and The Monastery of Piva

BUDAPEST

St. Stephens Basilica in Budapest and St. Mathias Church in Budapest

Shrine to St. Margit, after whom Margit Island in Budapest is named.

Thank you, Marta, for this lovely image of the candle you lit at the Chapel of St. Ignatius on the campus of Seattle University.