This week I mostly cooked from Czech and Slovak Food and Cooking. I very much enjoyed it. I have a romantic soft spot for the Czech Republic, fuelled by Milan Kundera novels and imaginings of its Bohemian past.
Aged 19 I was abandoned in Brno by my hitchhiking partner. I don’t know what he was expecting from me, but let’s just say it didn’t work out. I decided it wasn’t safe to hitchhike alone, so I got the bus back to Prague, thinking if worst came to worst I could ask the British Embassy to post me home. I was so nervous about missing this bus, I arrived three hours early. I ended up sitting by the roadside with the bus driver. We talked for over an hour, and the only word we had in common was “football”. He got me to sit in the front seat of the bus, where a tour guide would sit. He was very nice, but when he tried to get me to stay with him on arrival in Prague, I worried that I was jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, so I shook his hand firmly, and thanked him, and kept saying that international word, “hotel”. I stayed overnight in a hostel, on a camp bed, in a mirrored former ballet studio, in a chandeliered mansion. The next day I got the bus home to London. The ticket cost £45. The journey lasted 36 hours. I have a varicose vein on my leg to prove it.
Anyway, meatloaf. This was demolished by the children, despite my efforts to make it even less appetising with a tomato sauce (tomatoes are not their favourite). The koláče are sweet breads with plum jam. A bit like a heathier version of a doughnut. They managed three each. I think maybe I fed them a bit late today - too busy out voting in our local elections!