Goulash. I'm surprised to find it's an actual dish — and a tasty one, at that.
For years, I thought my mother, of Czech descent, had invented it to hide weekly leftovers. But at the Village Meat Market & Cafe in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I enjoy a heap of it over dumplings, with a sprinkling of mozzarella on top. It's rich and thick, with hefty tomatoes strewn in — like a peppery salsa, only not as sweet — and served with a dark slice of Reuben bread.
Our heritage has brought my family to the Czech Village/New Bohemia Main Street District in Cedar Rapids. The district was branded Czech Village in the 1970s to preserve the history of the tightly knit community that began here in the mid-19th century, when many Czechs immigrated in search of jobs in meatpacking and agriculture. Over the years, the locals have fought through hard times, and floods, to keep their ethnic identity and Old World pride alive on Main Street, with stores like the Czech Cottage, which sells imported handblown and hand-cut crystal, teapots and hand-decorated eggshells. Two brick pillars mark its entrance.
I grew up in upstate New York, and fondly recall picking snap peas on a family farm with my grandma, whose piercing green eyes beamed from her aging face while she and her sister spoke Czech. We ate poppy seeds once a year for good luck, and a lot of goulash. I hope our visit to Cedar Rapids will bring my children an understanding of how our family connects through the generations.
The meat market
The Village Meat Market & Cafe brings on the sense of sharing a family meal with strangers. A busty statue of a cheeky serving girl greets us at the entrance. Small tables, propped up by antique sewing machine bases, are pushed together to accommodate a crowd. A woman nurses her baby while an elderly couple talk to their son and his wife. Local musician Tommy Bruner strums and sings familiar tunes like the Beatles' "All My Loving." Between songs, table conversation gives way to light applause. Our server is fast, efficient and polite.
After the Cedar River flood of 2008 washed out the iconic early-1900s Polehna's Meat Market, Lou Thompson opened this cafe in its memory, to appeal to the local Czech carnivores. "My wieners were horrible that first year," she laughs. "The old men would come in and yell at me about my jaternice." (Pronounced yeeter-neat-za, it's a Bohemian-style sausage.)
Thompson says she perfected her meats through trial and error, by listening to her customers. My children seem to agree. Her meats are familiar enough to their palates but with a fatty richness that they enjoy, and they eat heartily, whether it's sausage and sauerkraut, or a pork and beef meatloaf ground in a hot dog mixer and flavored with Czech seasoning, and served with crisp fries (villagemeatmarketcafe.com).
How they lived
Next we tour the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library, reopened in 2012. My kids race through the exhibits, calling for each other to "come see." At the Faces of Freedom exhibit, we walk through the steerage section of a steamer ship, and the kids pat the bare bunks where immigrants slept. The kids put on a puppet show, once used by the Czechs as a form of political dissent against the Nazis. Other exhibits spark childhood memories, which I share with my children: White lace reminds me of my mother's gift for churning delicate fabrics through a sewing machine, while an accordion prompts me to tell about the one passed down through the generations in my family, an instrument I briefly played.
