Kissel, Curd, Kama and Faggots

Hearing about culinary adventures of friends overseas causes me to break the commandment 'Thou shalt not covet...' and makes me question my 3-2-1 resolve. They are not eating like peasants; potted pigeon pie, pickled pork, pheasant under glass, plenty of other pies and puddings and pastries made by the farmer's wife from freshly laid eggs.

The food research had prompted the idea that there are some foods that must be savoured in the country of origin - some are too important they are not to be missed, and yet others, it is very important to miss. Sausages and yoghurt are two foods that are on my 'could not eat even when starving' page. No Bear Grylls here. Well...maybe sausages but not yoghurt. So the line is drawn - straight down the middle - 'Must Eat' and 'No Way Eat'.

Soups and dark, rich breads, pickles and forest fare are appealing in their earthiness and rustic nature. The lack of pretension seems endearing and sends the daydreamer into Fiddler on the Roof times and conjures Babushka over milk churn images to meld with glories of empires of bygone ages. The savoury Zeppelins and herrings, fried crumbed cheese, dumplings and roast pork sound manageable but then there is the Latvian grey peas and bacon dish and that Lithuanian slab of pork belly fat sandwich with raw onions (no butter) and the Welsh Faggots - liver rissoles - clear line there. Apparently these are relished by the respective countrymen. But then there are Vienna Schnitzel and Irish Stews, Yorkshire Pud and Haggis (deserving of Capitalisation) and Welsh Cawl that should be suffered for the cause - some sort of compensation for the soured milk and cold fish soup.

Sacher Torte (eaten in the Sacher Hotel would be nice) and Linzer Torte; and, a must to be tried - the lingon berries that are not found outside Lithuania. Red currant jelly kissel, all manner of curd-ish desserts and one called kama, and dumplings and poppy seed pastries and so much on the 'Must Eat' side that the page is lopsided.
We will be rustic and walk over the many cobbled streets and through ancient forests, traipse through medieval villages, peruse palaces and play the tourist and walk off all the calories. This justifies this peasant  and princely fare but there seems to be a blurring of the line. Not so distinct is the heavy divide now as first was thought. Some dishes seem so bizarre as to warrant respect and deserve at least a curious bite, just a little taste, honour times gone by and play at being 'one of them' - just for a little while and know that Aussie fare could appear very shallow and unencumbered with the necessity of hardship and make-do, uninspired by palaces and princes and cultures steeped in history, unscarred by continental wars and brave invention.

Australia has had its share of feast and famine, used what we can breed and grow and 'make-do' seems to be the mantra of our forebears. The hospitality and generosity of those whose lands we travel to must not be shunned. To share a glimpse of others' lives will be a privilege and so the line is gone between the faggots and the curd.