Kapolcs, a sleepy little west Hungarian village north of Lake Balaton, is the annual host to a festival called "the Valley of Artists." For a week, this normally sleepy village is turned into a sort of Magyar Alternativo event in which people trek around the village to visit impromptu gallery shows set up in local folk's barns and wine cellars. The even has grown so huge that it has expanded to include six of the neighboring villages, and on the weekends it is one huge, slow traffic jam.
During the day there are theater performances and presentations featuring artists talking about their work (
imagine that!) but by and large, it was basically a huge crowd wandering around looking at stalls selling neo-hippy crafts and clothing. You know, hemp dresses, natural wax candles, knit rasta hats, insense. As concerns art, well, I wouldn't write it with a capital A ... how about ceramic red octopus and frog sculptures?
As Fumie pointed out, Hungarians love to go to events that attract crowds. the mere fact that nothing focused or organized is really happening at these events is irrelevant to the fact that Hungarians love wandering around looking at crafts stalls and then stopping for a beer and a nice big
kolbász. Usually it is very bad
kolbász... but this is the countryside and the sausage is local and somebody actually cares about quality out here.
Fahren Sie nach Bad Kolbasz heute?
I am not a big fan of Hungarian festival food, but outside of Budapest you can get lucky and come upon some real local food unhindered by some cheap Budapest trained chef making sure you don't add too much meat to the
gulyás soup. You really can not find a decent
gulyás leves in Budapest, but as soon as you leave the city you are pretty well guaranteed a fine bowl of red meat soup. Traditionally
gulyás was cooked oudoors in a huge cauldron called a
bogrács by cattle herders and shepherds on the plain. All you needed to store in your shepherd's pantry was a bag of salt, a bag of paprika, and maybe a few kilos of potatoes, and all you needed was to cull a steer now and then and you had
gulyás soup.
Although paprika is the ultimate symbol of Hungarian cooking, the truth is that it was not much used before 1800. As Hungary's national self-awakening strengthened in the second half of the 19th century, peasant dishes such as
gulyás became gastronomic statements of independant, pro-Hungarian sentiment in the inns and chow houses of Budapest and other Hungarian towns, eventually becoming the basis for a paprika-laced haute cuisine championed by chefs like Karoly Gundel.
Above is a beef
gulyás on the left, with a tripe stew at right. Tripe -
pacal - is one of my favorite foods. I love Turkish tripe soups, grilled tripe, chewy african tripe stews, but I can't stand the smell of tripe
paprikás. For some reason tripe seems to react chemically with paprika to create the most foul smelling, repulsive, and downright yuckiest edible substance on the planet. But that's just my opinion. Hungarians love it stewed in paprika. They also eat a lot of carp, which is a fish I'd rather not even think about -
The Pig That Swims.
Ahhhh.... lunch! Pig knuckle stew with roast potatoes. I will admit this: I ate it. In fact, I ate it on a Saturday. Did I, as an openly identified Jew working as a Klezmer musician, promoting Yiddish culture in the heart of Eastern Europe, feel any slight pangs of hebraic remorse for eating Porky Pigowitz on s
habbos? Nope. None at all. It tasted good, I was hungry... and now I am not.
Here is one for the radical, perverse pasta experimentation crowd - tradtional Hungarian
mákos tészta, noodles served with crushed poppy seed and granulated sugar. Sounds strange, tastes great. It's the Dirt Dessert! When Primo Levi, the Italian Jewish writer, was released from Auschwitz, he and his fellow Italian Jewish companions were held in a refugee camp run by Russians before being released to return home. Levi wrote of the utter repulsion of the Italians at the Hungarian Jewish cooks in the camp, who served sugared poppy seed noodles almost daily. Which makes sense, since it is dirt cheap, easy to prepare, and, best of all, about the only dish in Hungarian cuisine that is always absolutely kosher.
The House of Hungarian Fruit Brandies...
representing! Ever since Hungary gained entrance to the EU the rules regarding the sale of
pálinka - homebrewed brandies - have finally stabilized so that small scale producers can enter the market, and now we have a lot more choice than the nasty aroma-flavored old communist factory
pálinka that once cornered the market.
The reason I was in Kapolcs was to do a gig with
Muzsikás at the small Catholic Church. Playing Maramures Jewish music togther with the Muzsikás band is pretty much the apex of my career as a fiddler. I grew up listening to their early recordings, and spent hours every day trying to figure out the fiddle parts of Transylvanian Hungarian music that seemed so foreign to a fiddler trained in Appalachian and Old Time American fiddle music.
Mihály Sipos has always been one of my favorite fiddlers, with a great sense of style and repetoire choice that make him unique among virtually all the other musicians in the Dance House scene. To be performing with the band that inspired me to learn Hungarian folk fiddling to begin with is a great feeling, a dream come true for a modest folk fiddler like myself. Oh, and and I played a bit of
cobza/koboz too. Twenty years of practice makes perfect!
Home at last after a week with Yale Strom and the Eldridge Street Klezmer Tour in upstate New York. It was a blast... I got to play with some of the best musicians in the Klezmer scene, many of whom I had not really crossed paths with before. Like my buddy Mark Rubin says - for a musician, what is important is not the gig... it's the hang, the chance to be with other musicians sharing similar interests and a similarly warped sense of musicians humor. For me, being on stage watching ex-Klezmatic Alicia Svigals treat her violin as an amplified rock instrument in the context of a Bukovina Jewish fiddle tune was equivalent to a year studying in a music conservatory.
The winner of the 2007 Eldridge Street Klezmer Tour "Miss Popularity" award goes to Miss Susan Watts, trumpeter extraordinaire and general all-around party animator/animal/vegetable/mineral. She sings, she blows horn, but let this woman in front of a mike and she turns into a dadaist version of Sarah Silverman meets Miles Davis. Folks, this is a case of nature, not nurture. Or both. Susan's Grandfather was Jacob Hoffman, the 1920s Philadelphia klezmer bandleader whose klezmer xylophone solos appeared on many of the early klezmer reissue CDs. her Mom, Elaine Hoffman Watts, just won the 2007 National Endowment for the Arts Heritage Award for her preservation of the old klezmer drumming style.
Susan grew up in a family atmosphere full of music, and she developed monster chops which, happily, she now applies to Jewish music instead of serving evil. Other interesting facts: she can eat horrible Litvak sweet gefilte fish, claiming she will eat "any Jewish food." Not even other Jews will eat "any" Jewish food. Ewwww. Here's a shakey bit of video taken during a sound check (in an acoustic hall without a sound system in Rockchester, NY) that illustrates the level of energy Susan can generate in her music: That's a pretty dangerous level of energy.
Winner of the "Zen Tranquility" Award goes to Barry Mitterhoff, the mandolinist who often is seen playing in company of Jorma Kaukonen in the present line up of the legendary blues group Hot Tuna. Barry has exquisite taste - which is helpful when you are a mandolinist - and can spice up a slow Jewish hora with just the right amount of brazillian pepper or a discrete jazz chord. Barry plays a Gibson F-5 mandolin - a bit of wood and metal that is worth more than most family cars these days. That little instrument has a huge voice like... um... Susan Watts? (If anybody out there has a similar Gibson F-5 or, preferably, an oval holed Gibson F-4 that they would like to donate to me, for free, of course, please email me.
The view from my battle station on stage. Rom accordion player Peter Stan and Barry Mitterhoff are lontgtime associates of Yale Strom and were always a rock-solid rythym section right on top of the shifting, improvised set list that morphed into a different show each night. The tsimbl seen is on loan from Pete Rushevsky, and is a small Romanian tsambal mic that was strung with uncomfortably soft phosphor-bronze strings... driving me nearly insane. I am now actually grateful for the steel strung tsambal I have at home - an instrument you can whack the hell out of and still call it a C minor chord.
I've been off the road for almost a week... back in the Big City after a bit of exile in the boonies... and dang. I miss them already.
In a sweeping flank attack not seen since Sherman’s March across Georgia, thirteen brave Klezmer musicians crossed the hostile interior of upstate New York, leaving behind a trail of dried trumpet spit, broken strings, buffalo chicken wing bones, and the echoes of countless D minor chords in their wake. Rations were short. Distances were long. The espresso was crap. Erie County will never be the same.
The strategy was to first take Poughkeepsie by surprise, because all Klezmoriim are taught from an early age that he who controls Poughkeepsie controls the entrance to the Gentile regions of New York State… The company set up camp in the Grande Hotel, strategically convenient to our later actions at the elegant Bardavon Theater, America’s oldest continuing entertainment venue.
Yale knew that if our forces could take the Bardavon, it would strike fear in the enemies’ hearts and break their spirit, making for an easy campaign later, and possibly shorter sound checks. But first,
His report affirmed what we already suspected – Poughkeepsie had been under occupation by a large and surprisingly friendly Mexican force. Using basic Spanish and coarse animal noises, Brody was able to make them understand our situation and friendly intent. The Mexican larders were surrendered without resistance, at only $4.95 for a plate of three fresh spicy pork tacos.
Back at the Bardavon, we found that our Jews had already taken positions backstage and were refusing all offers of pork. Nothing could be done to make them eat it. However, these Jews were armed with clarinet and trombone, so we were in no position to argue. Our Jews steadfastly out-perform all other troops in the sonic production of a virtually inpenetrable "wall of sound"... and we would be ill advised to give them cause for grievance. So no pork.
The Jews were identified as Yankl Falk and Rachel Lemish, both followers of the Frum Brigade, and sworn to severe and unwavering kosherity. While ostensibly pious and learned, the Jews nevertheless spit copiously into their instruments and make a fearful din by which the enemy is made to tremble and flee. In answer to all inqueries, their answer remains "It's a living."
Our leader, Yale, bravely commanding the forces through a difficult Gminor manoeuver in sirba formation.
Provisioner Brody releases air from his "axe", Chief Officer Peter Stan lets loose with an unstoppable barrage of deadly Romanian arpeggios, while tropper Jim Whitney stands guard on bass, ever ready lest a stray critic take a shot at our fearless commander, Yale, seen armed only with a violin. Due to unknown restrictions, however, our men were unable to find a bar open after 9:30 pm. A decision was then made to retreat as swiftly as possible under the cover of dawn to a less dry staging zone. Jean and Hanna, our logistics and intelligence brigade, quickly repositioned to a more defensible staging ground.
Manning the videography base, our Mohawk Auxiliary grafitti specialist (First Class) Aram flashes the V for Victory sign (although, honestly, with Aram it could be an old gang signal...) and shows no ill signs of the grueling forced starvation march that carried us across New York's bare tundra to meet fate at.... the Battle of Fredonia! 
Inside, it was tuning and rehearsing for the likes of Alicia Svigals and Rachel Lemish, who did a complex and beautiful fiddle-trombone duet. 
He first appeared in
Ray - the fourth generation in a dynastic Klezmer family - taught music in the NYC school systems his whole life, and rediscovered himself in Klezmer music after retirement. “We never called it ‘klezmer’” said Ray after the show, “Klezmer was a word for the lowest of the low, the guys who played on the street for coins. We just called ourselves musicians” Hmmm... I don't know whether to be proud or embarrassed... I haven't played for coins on the street in some time, though. 
My Mom, Pop, and Sis came to the show (I don’t often get to play stateside. Pop missing from photo because he was late parking the car due his lifelong mission to never park in a paid parking garage.) Even so, we had to split before the finale… it was after eleven and I had to pick up a tsimbl from Pete Rushevsky’s place nearby to play as we take the Eldridge Street tour on the road in upstate New York. Thanks, Pete!
Fifty Years later, Klezmer musician, photographer, film maker, and writer Yale Strom decided to do a similar photo op to celebrate the renovation of the 
(Above: 
Dignitaries included actor/singer Theodore Bikel, whose records were the lifeline to Yiddish song for the 60’s generation (he's the distinguished chap in a black fisherman's cap and scarf, smack dab in the center. KCB singer Judy Bressler just behind him.)
Dave Tarras could not be there, but his DNA made an appearance in the form of his talented great-granddaughter Stephanie Tarras, who plays clarinet in the Columbia University Klezmer Band, seen behind interloping amazing-ace klezmer fiddler Jake Shulmen-Ment. OleHashulem.. she even looks like her Great-Grandfather! Well, considering that I once met Dave Tarras... G-d bless genetics...
“Revivalists.” You can’t control them. You can't talk sense into them. Beware. 
A jam session and park concert ensued... but it is not over. I'll be playing a concert tomorrow with this mass of klezmorim, and then going on tour in New York State with them. I'll keep you informed while on the road... Buffalo! Rockchester! Freedonia! Here we come! But wait! No Jewish event is complete without a Chinese restaurant... 
and east Chinatown is THE PLACE for oddball noodle soups... Super Taste Restaurant... right next to the Eldridge St. Shul... Lang Zhou style hand pulled noodles... better than the Lang Zhou in Bpest!! Four bucks for Beef noodle soup! Six bucks for the house special beef soup - a cauldron of rarely encountered cow parts swimming in broth and noodles. Fiddler 
When Klezmorim die, they come here instead of heaven.
Kazimierz Dolny is located about two hours from Warsaw, just by Lublin, and it is a pretty little old market town that owes its preservation to the fact that it was the site of one of the royal castles founded by King Kazimier of Poland. Kazimierz is basically an artist colony, and fills up on weekends when the yuppies of Warsaw come in for a weekend of pushing baby strollers alongside the Wistula river.
Every day I taught a klezmer music workshop to a group of about twelve young Polish music students. Klezmer in Poland is quite popular - it represents a previously unkown, exotic-yet-local music tradition to young Poles, who show an active interest in learning about the traditions of the Jews who were once at the heart of small-town Polish life before WWII. As for the Klezmer music, well, Polish klezmer, like so much European klezmer, is a fantasy music with very little connection to anything Jews ever played at weddings. I was hired on to fix that situation, armed with music from Naftule Brandwein, German Goldenshteyn, and the Belf Orchestra.
The students were actually surprised that anybody was actually teaching them Jewish music - modes, niggunim, wedding lore - instead of just piling on the melodies. Like young musicians anywhere, they tended to play fast, whereas in Klezmer you can increase intensity without increasing speed by using ornaments, phrasing, and accompaniment tricks. After a few days they seemed to "get it." The festival was sponsored by the Restaurant U Fryzera, which is housed in a beautiful old style wooden building in Polish folk style. 
The festival policy was that whatever the musicians wanted - food or drink - they would get for free at the U Fryzera. This included pierogis from the outdoor pierogi bar next to the festival tent. The meat and wild mushroom filled ones won the award...
Since it was raining and cold almost every day, soup filled the bill, often a Polish zurek, a creamy sour soup made from fermented rye grains filled with frankfurter bits...
Every Polish town seems to have at least one "Jewish Style" restuarant serving "historical" dishes such as latkes, chopped liver, cholent, or kasha varnishkes. These are usually prepared from some anonymous hobby cookbook... because they don't ever seem to resemble anything I ever saw Jews eat. Chopped liver at these places is exactly that - chopped liver, chopped eggs, chopped onions arranged in attractive layers on a plate. Jewish chopped liver, however, gets mixed into a mashed mess suitable for making into statues of Bar Mitzvah boys and is spread on TamTam crackers... so stick with the herring. Our hosts, however, are used to serving Poles, who easily wolf down a half kilo platter of herring in a serving and consider it the salad course!