Spring Sprinkling

I was inspired to think about this after watching Olia Hercules and Alissa Timoshkina being interviewed by Caroline Eden as part of a #cookforUkraine event at the British Library. A question from the audience prompted reminiscing about life under Soviet rule, and the banning of religious holidays. During the communist rule (1949 to 1989), the country was officially an atheist state, but in common with other Soviet bloc countries, previously religious orientated holidays reverted back to pagan origins. Today’s wittering is all about Easter or the sprinkling of the girls which continued irrespective of government dictates. I referenced this on twitter and both @AnnaMTuckett and @Nathanyoung86 mentioned the Polish custom of Smigus-Dyngus, although that seems to involve buckets of water and being whipped with pussy willows. Said with absolutely no comment….

Easter Monday, or Húsvéthétfő, Heaving Monday refers to the country custom of men and boys saying a poem and then chucking water over unmarried girls and women in return for painted eggs, homemade biscuits and maybe (depending upon age of the male) a shot or two of pálinka. In later years, the buckets of water have been replaced by a splash of eau de cologne but the symbolism remains the same, in short it’s a fertility rite. The wetter the girl, the more popular she is…. Everyone is encouraged to wear their best clothes, and for some that means traditional Hungarian dress with masses of petticoats, embroidered blouses and waistcoats and bunches of ribbons adorning hats and headdresses. See the picture of my nagymama’s doll below for an example. And here’s an example of the poetry.

Wandering through the woods nearby

Wandering through the woods nearby,
A lonely daisy caught my eye.
Without rain she seemed to wither,
So I’d thought I’d bring my sprinkler.

I first read about this custom in The Good Master by Kate Seredy. A children’s book published in 1935, the book tells the story of city bred Kate coming to live with her country cousin Jancsi and learning to respect the land, the seasons and the traditional customs. (Side note – this book was published in America and not, as far as I can ascertain, translated or published in Hungarian and Kate Seredy is not particularly well known in Hungary either.) I loved this book, it’s especially evocative in describing visits to the country fairs, the fishing for crayfish and the preparation of the eggs for Easter – painting them with wax and then dipping in dye and scraping off the wax to reveal the pattern below or a more simple overall dye made from onion skins or crushed leaves.

But what about the food?? Back in Liverpool we followed what I thought were unique to our family rituals, but as I have delved more into learning about Hungarian food, I’ve realised they were in fact versions of the Hungarian food customs my father grew up with. We would have a whole baked ham for Easter Sunday breakfast, with hot cross buns, mustard and horseradish. Yes. I can hear you all shrieking, but bear with me whilst I explain. Going back to that spring ritual thing, Hungarians serve up mustard and horseradish to accompany the Easter ham, which takes pride of place on the table. It’s derived from the Jewish passover tradition of the Seder meal – indeed, as radishes, hard boiled eggs, green onions, herbs and a yeasted sweet poppyseed bread also feature, you can see how the cuisines intertwine. Obviously Jewish Hungarians wouldn’t have had the ham, but lamb was also a traditional meat to serve. In Liverpool, we weren’t able to locate Kalács, the sweet braided bread that bears more than a passing resemblance to Challah. That we could have found, there’s a small but well established Jewish deli in Liverpool, but I’m not sure Dad knew of the similarity. So instead we adopted the British custom of hot cross buns – a sweet yeasted bun. And we slathered our buns with butter, mustard and a slice of ham. Not as weird as it sounds. Honest.

I’m running away to Venice this Easter – a place deeply dear to my heart and where I haven’t been for nearly 3 years thanks to the plague. So I’m posting this a bit early with a kalács recipe for you to try if you fancy going Hungarian for Easter. As ever, there’s more than one version of a kalács, both in Hungary and across Central Europe. Kalács as a word derives from the Slavic word Kolo meaning circle. A braided bread is more common for Easter and for celebrations; it also can be cooked over a hot fire by winding the dough round a metal mould to create the now popular chimney cake version called kürtöskalács served as a desert with different nut or sugar toppings. But this is the loaf version. The braid is also supposed to represent the braided whips used by herdsmen and if you are the dextrous type (not me) you can form your plaited bread into a circle.

When my sisters and I visited Hungary in the endless summers of childhood, our breakfast was invariably Nesquik Chocolate Milk, made with the sterilised milk in pouches and the chocolate powder, and kalács – a chocolate swirled version, with apricot jam. Look, it was the 70s and we were on holiday. This was our version of Nutella and Cocoapops… If you want to have a go at making the chocolate version, use a decent cocoa and split the dough into 3rds, adding about 50g of cocoa to one third and knead it in. When it comes to forming the braid, make one strand the chocolate one.

Kalács – this makes quite a hefty loaf. If you don’t want quite so much. you can halve the dough and form mini brioches.

400 ml of lukewarm milk

15 tsp sugar

1 tsp salt

25g fresh yeast or 7g of dried yeast

60g melted butter

650g sifted plain white flour

2 eggs (1 for the mix, 1 for the wash)

Mix the yeast with 100ml of the warm milk and 1/2 tsp sugar. Leave for 5 to 10 minutes for the yeast to activate (it will start to bubble).

In a large bowl add rest of the sugar and whisk with 1 egg. Add the remaining milk, the yeast mix and about 400g of the flour. Combine til just mixed and start pouring in the melted butter slowly and add the salt. Keep working the dough with a wooden spoon until the dough becomes very shiny and starts to come away from the bowl. This will take 10 or minutes, build up your biceps but also make the end result beautifully fluffy.

Tip the dough out onto a floured surface and begin kneading in the rest of the flour until the dough is moist and shiny but no longer sticky. This will take about 15 minutes. Put back in the bowl, cover with a clean cloth and leave to rise for 30 to 40 minutes in a warm place or until it doubles.

Punch down the dough and turn back out onto the floured work surface. Knead again for 5 minutes, then divide into 3 equal pieces. Roll these pieces into long snakes and pinch the three ends together firmly. Plait together and then tuck the ends together. Place on a butter greased baking tray and cover. Let it rise for 15 to 20 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 180C/GM4. Beat the remaining egg and then brush generously all over the risen kalács bread before you place in the oven. Bake for about 40 minutes until golden brown and it sounds hollow when you tap it on the bottom.