Oh dear god, we ate halusky—a dispatch from Bratislava

You may be saying, what? Halusky? Those who know it are saying, why? We’re saying, oof. Bryndzove halusky is the national dish of Slovakia and we’re in Bratislava. So how did it come to this?

I blame Julie. Though to be fair, she’s only the proximal cause and she did give fair warning. Longstanding friends of the blog will know that Julie and her husband Pat are our friends/former Paris neighbors. They used to live in Bratislava when Julie was transferred for her work. Pat tagged along and used the big change to transform himself into the fabulous street photographer he is today.

We stopped off in Bratislava en route to Budapest to see Pat’s latest exhibition at the equally fabulous Albrecht House concert space/art center. Albrecht House is the brain child /labor of love of their dear friends Igor and Vlasta. A great excuse to finally make it to Bratislava, and the perfect storm for our run-in with halusky.

If I’d found out about this dish on my own, I would have eaten it anyway. I’m always going to dive into traditional and/or unusual foods. It’s how I roll. And what’s not to love? Potato dumplings smothered in sheep’s milk cheese and topped with bacon. Julie said, eat it once and you won’t eat again for three days.

I thought her warning was hyperbole. It was not.

We stumbled into a cozy spot that served the cautioned dish. It looked warm, we were cold. As fate would have it, it was delicious. Like the best mac n cheese you’ve ever had. But the enjoyment was short-lived. Halusky needs a black box warning; it expands! Fifteen minutes later, we had a feeling of what. have. we. done. Like Romans deprived of a vomitorium*, we spent a fitful night.

No, we did not have an appetite for breakfast, just copious amounts of black coffee. Nor did we particularly want lunch, but we fell on that sword so we wouldn’t fade out during our afternoon visit seeing Pat’s exhibit and our promised tour with Igor and Vlasta.

Pat’s show was excellent, great shots very nicely presented. The man’s got his eyes open and that’s the highest compliment I can give a photographer. Igor gave us a tour of Albrecht house, then we jumped in their car to go to a gallery outside of town right on the Danube.

On the way back, we detoured into Austria to a high hill overlooking the river and Bratislava for a sunset view. Despite both countries being in the Schengen zone which is supposed to eliminate border checks, there is a checkpoint between Austria and Slovakia to stem the flow of illegal immigration. We didn’t have our passports on us, they were safely tucked away back at the hotel. We did have our French IDs, which Igor judged sufficient. As we pulled up to the crossing, Igor said, remember, you speak French. But we were waved through with no fanfare. I felt very clandestine nonetheless.

We got back well after dark. Dinner was still beyond us. I said to Mark, oatmeal ? We pulled out our emergency stash for late night hungry arrivals: rolled oats, nuts and dried fruit. Just add hot water. It was the perfect halusky antidote.

Onwards to Budapest !

Cheers,

Maer

*Yes, I know that’s a popular misreading of what a vomitorium was, but I’m going with it anyway.

I encourage you to check out Pat Callahan’s work at https://patcallahanphotography.com/.

You could even listen to him entertainingly spin yarns about photography and Paris here https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/street-photography-magazine/id944954636?l=fr-FR&i=1000729893107

Or read about him and the Bratislava show here: https://streetphotographymagazine.com/article/at-home-everywhere-with-pat-callahan/?mc_cid=73dfc4a0ad

For the fascinating saga of Igor and Albrecht house, I’ll let Julie tell that tale at her wonderful blog https://theworldinbetween.com/2024/06/13/the-music-house/