Easter Eggs gathered from my travel across Eastern Europe in Austria, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Poland, Romania and Ukraine.
Easter has always provided special memories for me. When I was a kid, we always went to my grandparents home for a family reunion. Always. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting. Easter included a house full of cousins, Easter baskets, chocolate eggs, egg decorating, an egg hunt before church, "Sunday Best" clothing, all girls (and most women) wearing bonnets, Sunday School where we learned that the eggs represented new life and the Resurrection, and then home for a family feast. And, that family feast always meant an Easter ham. You can't really celebrate Easter without a ham. It may not be written in the Bible, but you still need to have a ham.
One Easter even had a science lesson for me. I loved chocolate Easter eggs that were coated with a hard candy covering that was mostly white with colored speckles. I thought that the robin in our backyard might like one in her nest. She already had a pretty blue egg. Well, I learned that robins don't like chocolate as much as I did (and still do). She abandoned the nest. Some chocolate melts in your mouth, not in your hand. I guess all chocolate eventually melts in a nest.
Decorating eggs has always been a delight for me. And, I still love to do it. Unlike anybody else I know, I decorate my eggs for my Christmas tree, but I remember my mother hanging plastic eggs on a tree in the yard. My tree has real eggs but the actual tree is fake. Mom did it the other way around. But, I know it was Ukrainian eggs at Easter that inspired me to decorate eggs at Christmas. When I saw them in a magazine, I thought, "I could do that!" My tree has over 700 egg ornaments. I guess I really could do that.
My favorite memory of Easter as an adult took place in Eastern Europe where I painted a mural for orphans in Romania. My host and sponsor was a devout member of the Orthodox Church. Plans were made to attend an Easter service on my visit. I don't really think it was an option, but I really wanted to attend anyway. As I already told you, the "Norman Rockwell" Easter with my grandparents included Sunday morning services. When you celebrate Easter with Romanians, it's at midnight. I'm not really at my most alert at midnight or anytime after that. It didn't matter. I was at church and everything was in Romanian. No, I didn’t understand a lot of what happened. But, that didn’t stop the overwhelming sense of devotion and faith. No words were needed for that.
It felt like everyone in the country went to church at midnight. The chapel was not big enough for the crowd. The place was packed, standing room only, and the crowd of the devout spilled outside the church, down the sidewalk and into any open area. Everyone went to church. I had to ask if there were seats for the worshippers on days that did not have hordes attending the Easter celebration. No, I didn’t like the answer I received. Chairs were for old women. Everyone else stood no matter how long the service.
I felt like an old woman and really wanted a chair.
Each person inside or outside of the church received a candle. However, none of the candles was lit and the church was dark. Darkness in a standing room only situation wasn’t ideal, but there was a reason for this. A recent Orthodox tradition across Eastern Europe included candle light brought directly from Jerusalem. I have no idea how that was actually accomplished. I'm going to guess that that flame didn't go through the scanner at the airport and probably wasn't x-rayed or patted down. The candle light must have traveled by chartered jet, which is certainly better than I have ever traveled.
At one moment, around midnight, a priest appeared holding a bouquet with a flaming candle in the middle. And from that flame, imported all the way from the Holy Land, one by one all of the candles were lit inside the chapel and out on to the street. There was a lot of chanting in Romanian, or Latin, I couldn't be sure. But, even I learned how to say the main greeting repeated by all the devout, “Christ is Risen!” and “He is risen indeed!”
The celebration continued throughout the night and into the wee hours of dawn. It was approximately one in the morning when we left (much earlier than most of the devout). After the service, there was a traditional Easter dinner with my hosts. I’m not usually (ever) hungry after midnight. I’ve always considered it a good time of the evening, er … morning, to sleep rather than eat. But, it was a feast! The meal started by breaking Easter eggs. You shared the experience with someone else at the table (each person took a turn to crack the tip of their neighbor’s egg with their own egg) and proclaimed Hristos a Înviat! (Christ is risen).
The table was filled with meat wrapped in cheese, as well as a dish that was sort of like potato salad. It was heavy food and there didn’t appear to be any light eaters in Romania. I love any and all forms of potatoes. So, I filled up on the delightful food. But when the plates were taken away, another course was delivered. Why didn’t anyone tell me about another course? I didn’t need another course. I had no room for another course. I received another course. This time I was served turkey and lamb. The correct way to eat the lamb was with a bit of yogurt/garlic sauce and a sip of local red wine.
And, yes, there were desserts. Two of them! I was too full and too sleepy to even remember what they were. But, I remember two.
Before leaving for the hotel at three in the morning, I asked about the recipe for that potato salad. It was the only dish of the evening that I possibly had a chance to reproduce. It was very fun trying to figure out the names of some of the ingredients in English.
Monika’s Potato Salad
Bucharest, Romania
1 pound of potatoes 2 eggs
1 pound of carrots oil
7/8 cup celery root dash of salt
2/3 pound chicken breast little bit of mustard
1 ¼ cups sweet pickles 1 lemon
1 ¼ cups sweet peppers
Boil the potatoes, carrots and celery root (if you know what it is and can find it) in water with a dash of salt. After they cool, dice them.
As the vegetables cool, dice the chicken, pickles and sweet peppers. Then, add everything to the vegetables. For this recipe, the peppers were not the kind you find in the fresh vegetable section of the grocery. They were bottled and pickled in sweet vinegar. I’d never seen this product before. But, if you can find them (and I have since seen them even at my local grocery) use the pickled version. The whole mixture is held together with mayonnaise. And the amount used is a matter of taste. Mold the mixture on a platter to form a flattened igloo shape.
In Bucharest, the recipe called for homemade mayonnaise. That’s another thing I’ve never done before. Probably never will! To make this, start with salt and an egg yolk. Add oil a drop at a time (I have no patience for that!) and stir only clockwise. Add the juice of the lemon and a taste of mustard. I’ll add mustard to the mayonnaise I buy.
The entire surface of the salad on the platter is glazed with the mayonnaise. Very long slivers of the sweet pickles are coiled to decorate the base of the igloo in a series of red circles. Decorative flowers on top of the salad are made by piles of finely diced egg whites and garnished with sprigs of dill (or parsley) for the leaves.
Hristos a Înviat!
One Easter even had a science lesson for me. I loved chocolate Easter eggs that were coated with a hard candy covering that was mostly white with colored speckles. I thought that the robin in our backyard might like one in her nest. She already had a pretty blue egg. Well, I learned that robins don't like chocolate as much as I did (and still do). She abandoned the nest. Some chocolate melts in your mouth, not in your hand. I guess all chocolate eventually melts in a nest.
Decorating eggs has always been a delight for me. And, I still love to do it. Unlike anybody else I know, I decorate my eggs for my Christmas tree, but I remember my mother hanging plastic eggs on a tree in the yard. My tree has real eggs but the actual tree is fake. Mom did it the other way around. But, I know it was Ukrainian eggs at Easter that inspired me to decorate eggs at Christmas. When I saw them in a magazine, I thought, "I could do that!" My tree has over 700 egg ornaments. I guess I really could do that.
My favorite memory of Easter as an adult took place in Eastern Europe where I painted a mural for orphans in Romania. My host and sponsor was a devout member of the Orthodox Church. Plans were made to attend an Easter service on my visit. I don't really think it was an option, but I really wanted to attend anyway. As I already told you, the "Norman Rockwell" Easter with my grandparents included Sunday morning services. When you celebrate Easter with Romanians, it's at midnight. I'm not really at my most alert at midnight or anytime after that. It didn't matter. I was at church and everything was in Romanian. No, I didn’t understand a lot of what happened. But, that didn’t stop the overwhelming sense of devotion and faith. No words were needed for that.
It felt like everyone in the country went to church at midnight. The chapel was not big enough for the crowd. The place was packed, standing room only, and the crowd of the devout spilled outside the church, down the sidewalk and into any open area. Everyone went to church. I had to ask if there were seats for the worshippers on days that did not have hordes attending the Easter celebration. No, I didn’t like the answer I received. Chairs were for old women. Everyone else stood no matter how long the service.
I felt like an old woman and really wanted a chair.
Each person inside or outside of the church received a candle. However, none of the candles was lit and the church was dark. Darkness in a standing room only situation wasn’t ideal, but there was a reason for this. A recent Orthodox tradition across Eastern Europe included candle light brought directly from Jerusalem. I have no idea how that was actually accomplished. I'm going to guess that that flame didn't go through the scanner at the airport and probably wasn't x-rayed or patted down. The candle light must have traveled by chartered jet, which is certainly better than I have ever traveled.
At one moment, around midnight, a priest appeared holding a bouquet with a flaming candle in the middle. And from that flame, imported all the way from the Holy Land, one by one all of the candles were lit inside the chapel and out on to the street. There was a lot of chanting in Romanian, or Latin, I couldn't be sure. But, even I learned how to say the main greeting repeated by all the devout, “Christ is Risen!” and “He is risen indeed!”
The celebration continued throughout the night and into the wee hours of dawn. It was approximately one in the morning when we left (much earlier than most of the devout). After the service, there was a traditional Easter dinner with my hosts. I’m not usually (ever) hungry after midnight. I’ve always considered it a good time of the evening, er … morning, to sleep rather than eat. But, it was a feast! The meal started by breaking Easter eggs. You shared the experience with someone else at the table (each person took a turn to crack the tip of their neighbor’s egg with their own egg) and proclaimed Hristos a Înviat! (Christ is risen).
The table was filled with meat wrapped in cheese, as well as a dish that was sort of like potato salad. It was heavy food and there didn’t appear to be any light eaters in Romania. I love any and all forms of potatoes. So, I filled up on the delightful food. But when the plates were taken away, another course was delivered. Why didn’t anyone tell me about another course? I didn’t need another course. I had no room for another course. I received another course. This time I was served turkey and lamb. The correct way to eat the lamb was with a bit of yogurt/garlic sauce and a sip of local red wine.
And, yes, there were desserts. Two of them! I was too full and too sleepy to even remember what they were. But, I remember two.
Before leaving for the hotel at three in the morning, I asked about the recipe for that potato salad. It was the only dish of the evening that I possibly had a chance to reproduce. It was very fun trying to figure out the names of some of the ingredients in English.
Monika’s Potato Salad
Bucharest, Romania
1 pound of potatoes 2 eggs
1 pound of carrots oil
7/8 cup celery root dash of salt
2/3 pound chicken breast little bit of mustard
1 ¼ cups sweet pickles 1 lemon
1 ¼ cups sweet peppers
Boil the potatoes, carrots and celery root (if you know what it is and can find it) in water with a dash of salt. After they cool, dice them.
As the vegetables cool, dice the chicken, pickles and sweet peppers. Then, add everything to the vegetables. For this recipe, the peppers were not the kind you find in the fresh vegetable section of the grocery. They were bottled and pickled in sweet vinegar. I’d never seen this product before. But, if you can find them (and I have since seen them even at my local grocery) use the pickled version. The whole mixture is held together with mayonnaise. And the amount used is a matter of taste. Mold the mixture on a platter to form a flattened igloo shape.
In Bucharest, the recipe called for homemade mayonnaise. That’s another thing I’ve never done before. Probably never will! To make this, start with salt and an egg yolk. Add oil a drop at a time (I have no patience for that!) and stir only clockwise. Add the juice of the lemon and a taste of mustard. I’ll add mustard to the mayonnaise I buy.
The entire surface of the salad on the platter is glazed with the mayonnaise. Very long slivers of the sweet pickles are coiled to decorate the base of the igloo in a series of red circles. Decorative flowers on top of the salad are made by piles of finely diced egg whites and garnished with sprigs of dill (or parsley) for the leaves.
Hristos a Înviat!
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