Piure de Castane cu Frisca

This culinary adevnture began over a month ago. Before Christmas I was in Szeged, Hungary with Mr. and Mrs. Bloch (acquaintances from Lugoj). While there, we went to a cafe, and Mr. Bloch insisted I try the chestnut puree. I'd never heard of such a thing; as far as I was concerned, chestnuts came in two varieties- roasted or unroasted. Boy, was I wrong! Turns out the chestnut universe is much more complicated than I had ever conceived.

Out of puree curiosity (get it?), I ordered a portion of the chestnut dessert. It looked a little like vermicelli covered in whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate. Simply put, it was delicious! Before we left Szeged, we stopped at a store so I could pick up a package of frozen chestnut puree to take home.

The puree sat in my freezer until tonight, when I finally decided to try making the dessert at home. I took the package out to thaw, and bought some heavy cream. I just needed something with which to whip the cream, and something to transform the puree into worm-like strands (viermi, which is in fact how one would describe them in Romanian). A whisk would suffice for the cream, but I knew I'd have to be a little more creative with the 'worms.'

As I've done before in this sort of situation, I went my neighbors to see if they could help me out. My land-lady appeared not to be home, so I went to Vasile, one door over, and asked if he had a pasta press, food mill or potato ricer. He hailed his wife who came out of the kitchen, saying she didn't have anything of the sort. Ok, I thought, 'what about a garlic press?' No such luck. They asked me exactly what I was trying to do, if I was doing something with garlic they'd be happy to let me borrow their grater. I explained I didn't need a grater, I needed some sort of press because I was trying to make castane cu frisca. They looked at me kind of funny, and asked, "then what do you need the garlic press for?" There seemed to be some confusion about whether a garlic press would be suitable to crush a chestnut. I tried to explain that I wasn't trying to crush chestnuts; I had already bought pureed chestnut, and I wanted to make it into worms. This led to a bit more confusion: "wait, what about worms now?!" In retrospect, I suppose 'spaghetti' might have been a better word choice, but at the time all that came to mind was 'worms.' In any case, we all had a good laugh.

Though he couldn't help me with the garlic press, Vasile suggested I run to the pharmacy to pick up a syringe, break off the tip and use that to make 'worms.' Even though plunging my dessert through a medical piston pump sounded intriguing, I decided instead to go ask Doamna Sidei for help. Doamna Sidei is a Ukrainian lady that lives nextdoor, but I rarely speak to her, which is a shame- it turns out she's a really nice lady. I asked her if she had anything I could use. Unfortunately, her pasta press had just broken, but she gladly gave me her garlic press and a whisk.

When I got back to my apartment, I soaked the garlic press in vinegar and washed it off, trying my best to scrub off the years of accumulated garlic smell. I quickly looked up how to whip cream, never having done it before. Seemed simple enough, so I got to work whipping. No one warned me that the cream would splatter everywhere, but I quickly found it out. Once it was sufficiently beaten, I put the cream in the fridge and started making worms. I grabbed the garlic press, gave it a little sniff (seemed passable), broke off little chunks of the puree and started pressing. The resultant substance appeared to be something between vermicelli and dog food, but it tasted pretty good. Since the puree already had sugar added, the only thing I added to it was the whipped cream. I made 5 portions-- for Doamna Sidei, Vasile, his wife, their daughter Betty and myself.

I brought the first cup over to Doamna Sidei along with the utensils she had let me borrow. She was a bit surprised, and promised me she'd try it, but I got the impression she didn't want to eat it in front of me, so I let her be. I then brought the rest of the cups over to Vasile's apartment, saying "I brought some worms for you all!"

Vasile took his cup, looked at it inquisitively, furrowing his brow and shifting his eyes from the cup to me. He slowly raised it up to his nose, and sniffed the contents hesitantly. I waited expectantly, wondering what he'd say. He tried it. I noticed a look of relief on his face, and he said, "it's not bad, but we'll see how I feel in the morning!" I retorted, "yeah, you gotta be careful about eating worms."

After Vasile encouraged them to go ahead, Betty and her mother tried their cups as well. After which, I was offered coffee. I don't usually drink coffee, but in this case I accepted and we sat around and talked for a while. My conversations with Vasile are usually very short, taking place in passing on the stairs or in the streets, and the majority of our exchanges tend to be devoted to practicing how to pronounce "well" (Me: 'Ciao Vasile, how are you?' Vasile: "Ciao Mike, I am wale." Vasile is quite keen on practicing his English, limited as it may be). But, my visit this evening allowed us to converse in more depth.

I only intended my visit to last a few minutes, but it ended up lasting a few hours and we talked about everything--from pesticides, to AIDS, to communism, to the gas crisis, to the Masonic order, to whether I'm Jewish, to why the Peace Corps is not a religious organization. In the course of the conversation, I even managed to explain to Vasile that Canada is not in fact part of the United States of America, nor are Mexico or Columbia. He believed that the Americas, as in the entire hemisphere, is the same thing as the USA. I assured him this is not the case, that even if it's called the United States of America, it doesn't mean it's a conglomeration of all the countries from across the continent. He had some trouble understanding the distinction between 'state' and 'country,' which in Romanian almost always mean the same thing. And then there was the matter of Washington DC, "is it a state? no? Is it the collective capital for all the states?" I tried my best to muster a limited explanation of federalism. In the end I think he got the idea, noting how different the American system is from Romania.

Eventually I got home, mentally drained. I haven't felt that exhausted since I my first months in Romania, when even the simplest conversations knocked the wind out of me. But, I was quickly revived by a dollop of fresh whipped cream from the fridge.

Graffiti in Belgrade

Found this as we were walking along the streets of Belgrade New Year's Eve
(Thanks to Sarah for the pic)

Yep, that's me they're talking about at the top of the front page! I've been trying to get the guys at the newspaper to publish something about "Project Lugosi" for some time now. I submitted a couple articles, but they were never published. The paper told me that it was impossible to publish my stuff since at the time the elections were going on and a lot of the space in the paper was devoted to political ads.

After the elections were over, one of the writers at Redesteptarea, Cristian Ghinea, called me to his office to talk about the project. He too is passionate about local history (in fact, he's written a book on the topic of Lugoj history and folklore). So I did a short interview with him, after which he gave me a copy of a documentary about Lugosi that was made by some people in Timisoara in 2007-- quite well-done by the way

After my interview with Ghinea, I looked expectantly at the papers every week to see if his piece had been published. But no. The holiday season had already befallen us, and work at the paper had been disrupted (as it was just about everywhere else in town).

However, just this past Thursday I met with an acquaintence on the street and he said, "I saw you in the paper!" "Oh yeah," I responded, "what about?" "Something about a legal infraction," he retorted with a twinkle in his eye, obviously joking. My hunch was that the piece had finally been published, so I went to the nearest news kiosk and bought a copy of Redesteptarea, and as soon as I saw that picture of Dracula at the top corner, my suspicions were confirmed. I'm glad it was finally published; hopefully more peolpe will now be aware of my intentions and perhaps it'll create a public discussion.

You can find the article HERE (in Romanian)

Here it is translated into English:

AN AMERICAN, TRACKING DRACULA OF LUGOJ
by Cristian Ghinea
01/08/09

The great Lugojean actor, Bela Lugosi is better known in America than in his hometown.

Michael Nork is an English teacher at "Coriolan Brediceanu" National College. Before arriving in Lugoj, he had heard of the city, knowing it as the birthplace of Bela Lugosi. But Michael was surprised to find that the actor is almost unknown here in town.

In the United States, Lugosi is a symbol of Hollywood; he is considered a pioneer of the horror genre and the creator of the Dracula persona for the film industry.

"To my surprise, many of my friends and colleagues in Lugoj said they'd never heard this name. It's something surprising because Bela Lugosi is quite famous in the United States. He was the Hollywood actor who defined our modern conception of Dracula and he was born right here in Lugoj. Being that Bela Lugosi is such an important personality where I come from, I naturally assumed that he would be just as important here in his hometown. Anyhow, I came to discover that this is not the case. And this might be because he left this region long ago and became famous there in the United States. But, even if he left at a young age, he never forgot from where he came, adopting the stage name Lugosi to remember his place of birth," says Michael Nork.

Finding Lugosi's childhood home

The idea to look for Lugosi's home came to Michael around Halloween. "Seeing vampire masks and the like, I thought of Dracula and, naturally, Lugosi," says Nork. Not knowing where to start, he asked a few locals if they knew where the home was. Since no one seemed to know, he postponed his search for a while. Then, he decided to try a Google search and discovered an article written by Gary D. Rhodes, a renowned professor of film and Lugosi biographer. Rhodes came to Lugoj in 2003 just to find the famous actor's birthplace. After talking with a local historian and consulting town records, Rhodes located the house at 6 Kirchengasse (today Bucegi Street), right next to the Roman Catholic church. "I've passed by this house many times without thinking for a second. There isn't even a plaque to recognize who was born there. To me it seems ironic that Lugosi, an actor with such international fame --probably the most important personality to come from Lugoj-- is practically unknown in this area. Maybe it's just my humble opinion, but I think that the memory of Bela Lugosi deserves at least some sort of recognition, whether a plaque on his home, or just this simple article. After all, it would be a shame if we forgot the man who never forgot Lugoj,” declares Nork.

Dracula deserves at least an exhibition and a memorial plaque

"In the first place, I’d like have an exhibition about the man and his career at the Pro Arte art gallery, and afterwards put it in the town’s history museum, when the renovations are complete,” hopes Michael Nork, adding that Gary Rhodes, director, documentarian, and film historian has promised to help Nork with making an exposition which would commemorate the career of this actor.

In this way, Lugoj will receive photos, original files and cinematographic materials. Here in Lugoj, Michael has benefited from the help of Ivan Bloch, director of the Rotary Club, who has guided Nork with his research.

"We've spoken with the mayor, Francisc Boldea, about putting a plaque on the house on Bucegi Street, and we got his initial approval. We hope that we’ll also have the consent of the current owner,” further remarks Nork.

It's cold!

Winter has finally arrived! For the past 2 weeks the high temperatures have been consistently below freezing. Call me crazy, but I love cold weather. Last winter in Lugoj was sort of a bust; it hardly snowed and the highs were in the mid 30s-40s. I think it was actually cold for one week in total. This was a big disappointment because for me it doesn't really feel like winter unless my toes are constantly cold and my nose runs like a faucet.

In fact you'd probably be right to call me crazy. I'm not sure why I like winter so much, given all its burdensome inconveniences. I mean, showering is a big hassle (especially when your bathroom doesn't have any heat!), the utilites bills shoot through the roof, and you have to wear a jacket any time you leave the house (which is something I patently disklike. Heck, I don't even like socks). Add to all of that the danger of freezing pipes--something my father's careful obsession with 'home-winterizing' taught me to fear like the plague.

Being on vacation from school last week, I left Lugoj for a little jaunt through Serbia and Bosnia. I took what I thought were all the necessary precautions--I watered my plants, washed the pile of dirty dishes in my sink, threw out the garbage and shut off my main waterline. Everything seemed in order as I locked my door and left. However, upon my return, I turned the mainline back on and discovered the water was no longer flowing. It seemed that the pipe had frozen. Gasp!

I should explain that I live in a building that's at least one hundred years old, and none of its apartments originally had electricity or running water. Plumbing has since been added, but in a rather ad hoc, hodge-podge fashion. In my particular apartment, a bathroom was added only a mere 2 years ago. In order to direct water to my place, the plumbers ran a pipe from one of the stores below me, up through the back balcony and into my apartment. The problem with this setup is that, even though it is mostly covered by concrete, the pipe isn't insulated. So, it's essentially exposed to exterior temperatures, which is never a good idea (just ask my dad). So, of course as soon as the air got cold enough, the pipe froze, especially since I had been gone for an extended period and hadn't run the water in a while. Clearly the man who installed the pipe wasn't thinking about what happens to water when it drops below 32 degrees. Clearly he'd never met my father.

Returning home after a long trip, all I wanted to do was take a hot shower. But obviously I couldn't do that. So I resigned to sleeping in my filth until I could tackle the problem in the morning. The next day I spoke with my land-lady and neighbors and asked if they had water issues. Nope, they all seemed to be problem-free; I was the only one. So, my land-lady and I called up all the plumbers we knew, asking them to come out and check things out. But, no one was available, or no one wanted to come (I tend to think my land-lady has a certain unfavorable reputation among all the tradesmen in town: "oh no, Stefania is calling again! Quick, pretend you have the flu!"). So, I decided to run some extension cords out my window and place some space heaters along the pipe. I set it all up and left it to run all night long. However, this morning there still wasn't any water.

At this point, clearly pushing the limits of hygiene, I meekly asked one of my colleagues at school if I could shower at his home. Lucky for me and the public in general, he said yes. So I finally got a shower, but I was still keen to get a plumber to my apartment as soon as possible...otherwise I'd have to use the showers at the school gym. I wasn't prepared to relive highschool.

My land-lady spent most of today making calls to all her usual plumber contacts, but she couldn't convince anyone to come out. I can only guess that word is spreading through town of the plumbing disaster commonly known as 6 Mocioni Street. This old building really must be a plumber's nightmare. Frustrated and on the point of desperation, my land-lady finally made a phone call to a plumber that someone had recommended to her. It turned out he lives just around the corner, and he came straight over (bless his heart, he must have been the only plumber in town who hadn't yet heard about the horrors of 6 Mocioni). When he arrived, he got right to work and it was immediately clear that he was good at his trade. He worked tirelessly, heating up the concrete with a flame in the hopes that pipe underneath would warm up and melt the ice. After about 3 hours and still no success, he dejectedly strolled into my apartment and said he was giving up for the night. He added, "you basically have two options: 1. wait until the weather warms up enough to naturally melt the ice--certainly not my first choice, or 2. tear up the concrete and rip out the pipe. The more I considered my options, the more attractive nr. 2 sounded, even though I knew it was going to be a pain in the neck. But just as I was considering it, I suddenly heard the sound of water running in my bathroom. "no way,' I thought, "it can't be!" I flung open my bathroom door, and sure enough, my water had returned. We smiled at each other and jumped for joy.

I guess the moral of the story is that we blindly rely on so many seemingly insignificant modern conviences. We're only really aware of this fact when they're absent. Or, I guess the moral of the story could be to insulate your pipes!

Calling all film buffs and cinephiles

I've decided to make a project out of Bela Lugosi. As I mentioned in an earlier post, few people in Lugoj know about the horror-film actor, even though this is his hometown. In my opinion, Lugoj should do something to commemorate him, not only for the sake of local history, but also for the sake of tourism. After all, Lugoj prides itself as a cultural center. That being the case, the town should do everything it can to emphasize its cultural heritage.

Ideally, I'd like to put a plaque on the house where Lugosi was born, and I may eventually get that done. However, for the time being, my primary goal is to raise public awareness about Bela Lugosi. My first effort in this vein was writing an article for the local newspaper entitled, "Do you know Bela Lugosi?" The next thing I'd like to do is put together some sort of Lugosi exhibit for the town art gallery. I'm hoping to gather materials and memorabilia from collectors so that I can create some sort of visual exposition (perhaps combined with a film screening). I've already talked with the curator of the art gallery and the manager of the history museum, and they both support the idea. In fact, the manager of the museum said she'd like to devote a whole room to Lugosi when the museum renovations are complete.

I've also established a connection with Gary D. Rhodes, a professor of film and the foremost Lugosi biographer. He said he'd be happy to do what he can to donate materials. However, I figured I'd also put out a public request here on my blog. Perhaps some of you out there are film buffs or collectors of film memorabilia (or perhaps you know someone else who is). In any case, if you'd like to help this effort, please leave a comment here.

Here are some examples of the sort of things I'm looking for:

1. Photos of Lugosi from various stages throughout his career. It'd be nice to have a good cross-section of his life so we don't end up with just a Dracula expo. I envision displaying the photos chronologically and including a description for each. That way, as the viewer goes from picture to picture, the descriptions will read sort of like a mini biography.

2. Video materials, so we can do a screening or something. Of course, a copy of "Dracula" would be nice. But, it would be even cooler to have something representing his early film career in Europe (if anything is still surviving).

3.Books on Lugosi

4. Film posters

Tuesdays

Tuesdays are my busy day. I have a full schedule at school, right after which I take a trip to the outskirts of town to give English lessons to some 2nd-5th graders. And, at the end of the day, I have a 3-hour yoga course (which is quite calming after a few hours with the little ones).

Teaching the English alphabet to a group of 2nd graders

These kids I visit every Tuesday live in the poorest neighborhood in town, "Mondial" (it's named after the ceramics factory located there). The children in this part of town don't have a lot going for them: they live in a poor, dirty, relatively neglected part of town and they go to schools where the teachers are poorly-paid and under-motivated. But, they have at least one thing in their favor: a brand-new after school center funded by the an Italian firm and the Catholic Church.

I also have a group of 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders

I'd heard about the Center from the volunteer previously assigned to Lugoj. He told me that his experiences there had been silmutaneously his most challenging and most rewarding. Having been going to the center for about 2 months now, I think I'm starting to understand what he meant.

On the one hand, the kids are very enthusiastic and always really excited to see me. Every time I arrive, I'm greeted by a cacophonous mob of 3-foot tall hugging-machines. They're very touchy, which took me a while to get used to. For example, upon seeing me for the first time, one kid who had apparently never seen facial hair before began tugging on my beard, saying "what's this?"

So, it's nice knowing my presence is appreciated. But, on the other hand, working with these kids can be tough. Firstly, they're full of energy, like any kid their age. If I had a penny for every time I told them to quite down..... Secondly, I have to speak with them almost exclusively in Romanian. I've asked them if they take English at school, and they said yes, "the teacher dictates words and their translations and we write it all down." Sounds more like a factory production line rather than an English lesson. Coming from poor families, these kids don't have the same opportunities that other children their age may have. And, moreover, many have a history of being overlooked simply because they're Rroma.

They love to misbehave. Here you can see Franco getting a scolding

I'm glad the center is there, at least it lets the kids know that the whole world hasn't forgotten them. And, although we've only been working on the alphabet for the past three weeks or so, I hope my efforts there are making a difference.

National Day of Romania

December 1st is Romania's national holiday (sort of like the 4th of July in the States). It's called Ziua Unirii (Unification Day) and commemorates the unification of Transylvania with the Kingdom of Romania, which occurred on this date in 1918. The territories of Bukovina, Bessarabia were also united with Romania at that time, but some alterations were made after WWII. For the most part, however, this territorial rearrangement established Romania's borders as we know them today.

While this date may be a point of national pride for Romanians, for Hungarians it represents something more ignominious. Even now, the transfer of Transylvania is a sore point between Romanians and Hungarians, both groups laying claims on the region.

Decmeber 1st only became the national holiday reltively recently, after 1989 (during communist times, the national holiday was August 23, commemorating the overthrow of Antonescu's fascist government in 1944).

On December 1st, towns throughout Romania celebrate with military parades, marching bands, concerts and it's common to see flags hanging outside homes and on street lamps. This year was the 90th anniversary of unification, and Lugoj set off some fireworks (pictured above).

Thanksgiving

I recently returned from a Thanksgiving celebration in Botfei, a small village about 3 hours North of Lugoj. It was put on by a bunch of volunteers from the surrounding area, and several Romanians were invited, including the village Mayor. He provided us with two cabins located deep in the forest. It was really secluded, and the scenery was pretty, even if it was rainy and overcast most of the time. We stayed two nights, and unfortunately we ran out of water about halfway through the second day. However, we did have electricity, gas and plenty of wood for heating.

A lot of people showed up. Even my Danish buddy Martin came along, and with him came a chef (named Stewie, an old friend of Martin's from Melbourne). Everyone who came made a dish. I brought a green bean casserole with cheddar cheese and cracker-crumb topping (a huge hit) and I also brought some glazed honey-cookies called Turta Dulce (an even bigger hit, some people didn't believe I made them). I also prepared the sweet potatoes with butter, minced ginger and brown sugar (I highly recommend that combination), and I helped to make the apple and pumpkin pies. Someone else made cranberry sauce (which was amazing, especially since cranberries are virtually unheard of in Romania--in fact many Romanians mistakenly translate 'cranberry' as 'blueberry' since they have no equivalent). One of the Romanian guests made a rabbit soup. Of course, we had turkey-- a 15 kilo monster (which was Stewie's responsibility)-- along with stuffing and gravy. Everything was just awesome!

Well, I should say most everything, because besides the water situation, there was one other thing that wasn't so awesome. While I was baking the apple pie, the gas tank ran out. Tragedy! It was almost done, the crust just needed to bake a bit more. In a panic, I ran up to the other cabin (which also had a kitchen) and took the gas tank. I hooked it up in place of the empty tank and tried to relight the oven, but it wouldn't take; perhaps the tank was too cold. So, I just let the pie sit in the residual heat of the oven for another twenty minutes or so, hoping that it'd be enough to finish the job. Luckily, it turned out good enough. Good enough that it lasted no more than a few minutes before it was completely gone. After this fairly successful (even if partly-unsuccessful) experience, I'll definitely continue to experiment with pie-making.

All in all, it was a great holiday, in spite of the fact that I was away from my family. See my pictures HERE

Cum se face Tuica

Yesterday I had the chance to go to the village again with Tibi. This time he revealed to me the age-old process of making tuica (tzoo-eeka). Usually, tuica is made from plums, but pears or apples can also be used. In fact, just about any type of fruit works, and each gives the tuica a unique flavor. In this case we used grapes, since Tibi had a bunch left over that weren't good enough for making wine.

So, how is tuica made?

Step 1:
Let the fruit--in our case, grapes-- ferment in a big barrel for 6-8 weeks.


Srep 2:
Sprinkle a bit of sand on the bottom of the distiller tank and fill it to the brim with the month-old grape mush.


Step 3:
Put the cover on the tank and seal it so steam doesn't escape during the distilling process. For the sealant, Tibi prepared a glue-like mixture of hot water, flour and wheat chaff.


Step 4:
Light the fire and wait. Tibi gave me nothing more than corn stalks to feed the fire. And, since they burn up quickly, I had to be vigilent and constantly add more stalks (even though wood would have made my job easier, it's too precious to waste on anything but heating the home).


When the tank begins to boil, steam travels through a copper pipe which is routed into a barrel of water (pictured above). The water cools the pipe causing the vaporized alcohol within to condense and dribble into a collecting pot (just like in high school science class, except back then we weren't making alcohol, unless it was 'Bootlegging 101'). The process takes a while, but you know it's time to stop collecting when the tuica starts to taste sour-- at which point it's little more than musty fruit juice.


There you have it, tuica!

1989 (part 2)

In February I did a post about the Romanian Revolution in 1989. I thought this video would be an appropriate follow-up for those who are interesetd. It's a 36-minute clip taken from a 1990 episode of the Irish news program Today Tonight. Filmed right after the Revolution, it gives a brief overview of the events of the Revolution and offers an interesting perspective on the immediate aftermath.

This clip is relatively long, so it may require some time to load. Also, it flickers a bit for the first minute or so, but things smooth out eventually.