Heart in hands

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When I think about Hungary, there is something warm in my heart. Before moving to Canada, Hungary was our neighbouring country and the closest to the place I lived in. Consequently, there were lots of Hungarians who lived around, and the language I could hear growing up. Hungarian has nothing to do with Indo-European languages, so no connection with Slavic family and completely incomprehensible from that point of view. It belongs to Finno-Ugric group. Having a childhood friend who was half-Hungarian, and thus exposed to her conversations with her mother and grandmother, but also simply being in proximity with other Hungarians, resulted in understanding the basics.

Truly by accident, I met another Hungarian in Vancouver, who became my best friend and stayed the one I cherish since. I am aware of Hungarian cuisine, but I wanted to hear from her what kind of dessert she would crave, and she said Lúdláb torta. In some ways it resembles the Black Forest cake as it is made with cherries. But, it is also unique. It was gone in a dash!

The timing was right, April, when it was her son’ birthday, so it inspired me to make another Lúdláb torta and take it her to have it at their special family day.

  • Goulash
  • Goulash
  • Lúdláb torta
  • A slice of lúdláb torta

Hiding

Harbouring our isolation,
still going out and about,
seeing our friends somewhere occasionally,
our hands feeling tied.

Even without the virus,
the breathing is heavy and laboured.
It is the freedom of mind
that we are hungry for,
to dream and then just go to live it,
without thinking about the silent enemy
that can attack at any time,
like guerrilla from the woods.

We stay lonely
in order to be together.
Too many evenings and dinners
in front of a TV,
instead at the table with friends
exchanging laughter and stories.
Too many Zoom encounters,
wondering whether what we see
on our faces,
is visible to others.

Time slowly chewing on our lives.