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Category Archives: Slovenia

What is Slovenian Cuisine?

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Slovenian cuisine. Slovenian cuisine. What on earth is it? It was a question I was asking those I encountered in Ljubljana, and it was met with the same inquiry…”Hmm, what is Slovenian cuisine?” 

Control of this country has changed hands so many times over the years that, from a culinary standpoint, they are influenced by quite a few of their neighbors. And when you factor together the cuisines of Hungary, Italy, and Austria (just to name a few), you get a rather interesting answer when it comes to the initial question. There’s pizza on every corner, goulashes galore, soups for those bone-chilling days, giant gnocchi, and quite a lot of meat. After overdoing it for the last two weeks or so on pasta in Italy, I was pretty happy to up the iron intake, I have to say.

Today, I met with a woman who has authored a cookbook in Slovenia, and has a second one about to go to print. Her mission is to get kids into the kitchen, and also to improve the quality of food in schools. Evidently, their system leaves a lot to be desired, not unlike the school lunch program in America, and so she has made it her mission to visit schools and teach kids how to make better food choices. Emilijia is such a fantastic woman, and I felt really lucky that she took a few hours from her busy schedule to visit a market with me and talk to me a bit more about “Slovenian cuisine” (whatever that is).

I met her at the train station, and from there, we went to a pretty swanky market in central Ljubljana. It was actually quite interesting because housed in the basement of a would-be department store was a Whole Foods-eque market. And it was packed with people. We stopped first to check out her cookbook on the shelf next to Jaime Oliver’s, and then moved over to the “bio” foods section. They are very popular, and through somewhat broken translation, I gather “bio” equals organic. 

It was a rather large cross section of aisles with everything from jams and dried fruits, to chickpeas, lentils, pastas, breads, tofus, teas, and herbs. Emilija is from Koper, Slovenia, which is a coastal town to the south, so we talked a bit more about what their diet looks like. Not surprisingly, it includes fish, and she told me she eats many small meals throughout the day. Most everything comes from their garden, the fish her husband catches, the bread that she bakes, et al. In fact, she showed up to meet me with a bunch of fresh herbs, homemade pasta with calimari her husband had caught, fresh-baked bread, an apple from her garden…all for me. And in the market, she insisted on buying me salt from Piran (another amazing gorgeous Slovenian seaside town) and dried figs that are good for your blood. 

Incidentally, when I jumped on the train after meeting her, I had a smorgasbord of treats to sample. And as we glided along the rails and I sampled her delicious gifts, I thought to myself, “So, Kyle…what the heck is Slovenian cuisine?” As you’ll see from the picture, I’m still looking and trying to figure it out.

EMILIJA PAVLIČ


Next Stop: Zagreb



So Long, Farewell

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I’m sitting on my flight right now typing this from a window seat. My carry-on was ever-so-slightly too tall to fit in the overhead bin despite two men trying to help me, and it was because of a pair of socks or something equally squishy and ironic. 

Neither of these things are characteristic of my travel style, so a mini panic attack ensued that consisted mainly of my face turning red when she asked whose bag it was. When carrying it to the front of the plane to have it checked, however, the flight attendants on AA 484 let me put it in the crew baggage/closet area onboard. I didn’t say much. Just a brief lament about how on this very same route a few years back, my bag didn’t make it, and then I giggled at the irony. I think they could sense my distaste for checked luggage because they asked me for my bag and told me it was our secret.

When we took off backwards from SNA, a tear rolled down my cheek, which is also not characteristic of the titanium exterior I like to uphold. But I could see all of Orange County from said window seat, and realized, “Holy hell, I’m not going to see this place for awhile.” Cue Pussycat Dolls ‘I Hate This Part Right Here.’ Leaving this morning was no better. I had to say bye to my parents, my animals (I never did find Tommy to say bye to him), and Brady…the human version. After having his car backed into by a lime green VW Bug when he pulled up, I couldn’t help but thinking it was symbolic. Was this his way of telling me he was smashed I was leaving? These are the types of things I think about when I’m trying to distract myself from getting all worked up. It didn’t work.

It’s hard to believe I’m on an airplane right now bound for a place 12,000+ miles away. For the longest time, this day seemed like it would never get here, until this week, when I could see it on the horizon and wished it was off in the distance somewhere (kind of like the ground from this airplane right now). I feel anxious, excited, sad, eager, manic, confident, and like I could cry at any minute. Does anyone have a Xanax handy? Seat 11E is open next to me, and there are a variety of people I wish were sitting in it. The reality is, I’m flying solo. And I’ve got a lot of days, hours, and minutes to fill before I’m sitting next to someone on my return flight home from Istanbul.

The beverage cart is approaching, and I’m going to grab some water and hydrate. It’s going to be a long flight to CDG from DFW, and I’m hoping the two aisle seats flanking my middle one (yet another move I never make) are open so I can sprawl out for the flight. After a trip to the Admirals Club for my requisite red wine and Tylenol PM cocktail, I’m going to put January 28th behind me. I always say I don’t like even numbers, and I’ll be honest– I’m not a huge fan of this day. Perhaps, that’s why I’m returning on lucky number 13 (of May). Finally, something that makes sense!

Up, up, and away…Project Culinary Hopscotch is underway.