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RECIPE 9: Paprikás krumpli / Erdäpfelgulasch | KRISTÓF 🥘
INGREDIENTS
1 large onion
Around 300g Hungarian sausauge (kolbász)
1 clove garlic
Around 1kg potatoes, yellow ones, the ones that don‘t get mushy
Loads of paprika (get the Hungarian shit)
Seasoning paste „Gulyáskrém“
Caraway seeds
1 Bouillon stock pot
Two pairs of Frankfurter sausage
2 eggs
Around 200g of strong bread flour
Salt
Vegetable oil to cook (lard if you are hardcore)
•••
RECIPE
Finely chop the onion, roughly smash the garlic, cut the kolbász into thin slices. (Cut more for snacking)
Peel the potatoes and cute into medium sized cubes.
On medium heat sauté the onions til soft and glistening, add garlic and kolbász. Let the paprika fat render out.
Add potatoes and mix with the onions.
Add 2-3 tablespoons of paprika, this has to go red red red. Let the paprika unfold it‘s aroma put be careful not to burn it. When it smells nice, add 3-4 tablespoons (a healthy gulp) of gulyáskrém and stir. Add water when all is mixed well, add 1 teaspoon of crushed caraway seeds, the stock pot and simmer the potates on low-medium for 10-12 minutes until semi-soft.
Mix eggs with flour until you get a thick, gooey paste. Take a straight, small cutting board, wet it with some of the broth, add a spoon of the dough. With a straight edged knife or spatula, form a little „snake“ towards the end of the cutting board and scrape little dumplings into the boiling broth.
Turn of the heat, add frankfurter sausages cut into small circles to the dish and let them warm through in the pot.
Season with salt to taste at the end, let the potatoes soak up the salt.
Serve hot with a thick slice of sourdough bread.
Jó étvágyat/Malzeit!
INTERVIEW 9 | KRISTÓF 🥘
Kristóf: I actually wrote a love letter to London. Would you like to hear it?
*Eva and Lu nod*
Kristóf:
Dear London,
Honestly, fuck you.
No, really, how dare you?
You have this irresistible glow about you, especially from afar. You decorate yourself with jewellery: opportunity, welcoming openness, possibility of growth and discovering yourself. You beg people to love you. You make living my dream look effortless, like the world is just waiting for my talent, hard work and maybe beauty to be found, taken care of and maximised to its full potential.
But it is not. Nobody is.
You are ugly. You are mean. You are like the grumpy grandfather who you hate to please but all you want is his recognition and gentle pat on the head, that you are a good boy. You hug me tight and at the same time you toss me away. You are expensive and loud. You make me feel lonely although I am surrounded by people, people who love me. You make everybody look after themselves in an ugly way, a stressful way. You make it an effort to be kind to yourself. And every time, I feel like, I have got my shit together, you throw it in the fan and smile. A vicious smile, saying: You chose this, what are you complaining about?
And yet, for fuck’s sake, you are not toxic. You are always giving me that one look, that makes me wonder, if you are not the kindest entity in the world, actually. You are like my toxic ex-boyfriend who I have shower arguments with after being broken up for over a year. I know, you have been bad for me at times but: there IS love. It’s present, it keeps me going.
You never want me to apologise for who I am. You take me as I am. You see me struggle and comfort me, saying that it will all be well. You are the voice that my dreaming inner child needs to hear: Keep on going, you little rosebud, you will blossom, I know it. You test my patience and give me persistence. I have no idea if there is a way to figure out, how beautiful and kind you actually are.
Behind the facade of grey imperial buildings and evidence of cruel colonialism you remain a safe haven for lost souls, artistic expression and the desire for true freedom in our hearts.
There is no figuring you out. There is only gratitude for your unforgiving love.
So honestly, fuck you.
I’d love to hate you but you make me into the person I always wanted to be. You make me believe in my dreams and introduce me to people that make my heart grow even bigger.
How dare you? Please, never stop. Never stop giving me back hope when I am just about to throw it in your mice infested gutter.
Ever grateful for your harsh beauty and uplifting cycle rides, admiring the light infested landmarks over the mighty Thames.
You know you are sexy.
Don’t act like you don’t.
Forever grateful,
Kristóf
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