THE COOKBOOK TEST #0051: ALL ALONG THE DANUBE

INSTALLMENT #0051 (PAID) EUROPEAN VACATION / FRUIT SOUP / "COFFEE" CAKE

Dear Subscribers,

Part of writing THE COOKBOOK TEST is spending an awful lot of time with myself: Time in the kitchen, of course, but also time in the bookstores, time in the libraries, and time spent actually doing the reading. The main thing that I've learned isn't all that surprising if you know that I used to be a world news editor and that I obsessively collected international coins as a kid, but here it is: I love to travel, and when I can't travel, I like to travel vicariously. So when it comes to cookbooks, I'm a sucker for a book that takes me somewhere.

That's what drew me to ALL ALONG THE DANUBE, a cookbook that's organized as a travelogue beginning in Germany's Black Forest region and then meandering along the path of the eponymous river through Austria, Hungary, the former states of Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia and then into Romania and Bulgaria. The author, Marina Polvay, grew up in Budapest and fled to the West, and her knowledge of the region feels authoritative. 

It is difficult to classify Yugoslavian cooking as one cuisine, for it is as complex as the country itself. The food reflects the Central European, Middle Eastern, and Mediterranean heritage of the people. Dalmatian ham tastes very much like the Italian prosciutto. Cassata, the many layered ice cream, is as available in Belgrade as it is in Naples. Turkish coffee is served all over the country. The great favorites are the rajnici - veal and pork kebabs - and cevapcici, grilled ground beef sausages. Planinskisir is a hard mountain cheese that is strung on skewers and grilled over a fire, Albanian style. Baclava and strudel as well as Dobos-torte and pita bread are seen side by side in bakery windows. Kadaif - long thin noodles soaked in heavy syrup - are another Turkish dessert, as is dul-pita - a nutty strudel-like pastry.

I love this kind of stuff! Authors, get into those cultural and geographic nooks and crannies, please! I think a lot about how there is a continuous culinary conversation that stretches from India to Spain (with important way stations in Persia and Italy), and clearly the former Yugoslavia was a real crossroads on this journey, as well.

Far-flung influences including Turkish and Mongol cuisine crop up in surprising places, and the book really gets into the nooks and crannies of the region's food: sure, there's caviar and Dobos-torte, but there's also marrow dumplings, crabmeat pudding, and deviled carp, not to mention cold cherry soup (featured below.)

The author has the ability to set a scene and unwind the ethnic and geographic boundaries of a particular country that makes the whole book fairly enchanting as a travelogue. But as a cookbook? Well, you'll see shortly.

at your service,

James

ALL ALONG THE DANUBE
BY MARINA POLVAY
HIPPOCRENE BOOKS | 1979

Over the years, I have encountered fruit soups at various functions. I have never really understood what these thin, runny substances are trying to do exactly, nor why they exist. But I am happy to report that All Along the Danube features a fruit soup that might just make me a believer. Or perhaps not. Let's soldier onward...

FRUIT SOUP TRIES AGAIN

If I have a major fault as a cookbook recipe tester, it may be that I am drawn to novelty like petty thieves are to Amazon packages. If a recipe seems "new" or "weird" or "confusing", then my curiosity antennae deploy and I get emotionally committed. This was the case when I discovered that Megy Leves (Cold Cherry Soup) in the book's Budapest section. 

To make a long concept short, you start with tart cherries (I happen to have pounds of them in the freezer at all times thanks to my yard's annual cherry harvest), which you simmer with sugar, water, cinnamon, red wine, brandy, cornstarch and lemon juice before blending with sour cream, chilling, and then serving with a dollop of sour cream plus a dusting of cinnamon.

So: What IS this stuff, you might ask? It's not really a soup. It's fairly sweet, but I certainly wouldn't call it a dessert. It's certainly not meant to be a sauce, although I could imagine it working as a sophisticated way to dress up a waffle or crepe.