Sunday here in Moravia is family day. It is not unusual to get the fam together and go walking or biking. So we joined Tom and Svetlana and their two kids on a ride through the forest.
What could be better than riding 15 km through a Moravian forest?
A stop at Budkov.
After 15 km through the forest, it's all down hill...wind at your back.
Hmmmm, a restaurant. Svetlana is happy not to have to cook Sunday dinner.
Now the truth comes out. We biked here because of the local delicacy...
PORK KNEE!
Drool on you slack jawed yokels...
Actually, I must confess. This is a picture of Tom's Pork Knee. I meant to take a close up of mine when it came. ...and plumb forgot. Slightly diverted.
Now I must say something I found funny. I will chalk it up to cultural proximity... this isn't the right word really; what I mean to indicate is that sometimes you are so close to your culture that you can't see its presumptions.
Here is my case and point: This pork knee, which goes great with beer, is probably 50% fat. Those in the know will understand just how good this makes the meat. Now, I ate the meat and left all most of the fat. Tom finished his, all of his. Then he chided me in a friendly manner that I must eat the fat with the meat and I should eat all of it. I made a comment about thinking this is unhealthy to consume so much fat, by way of saying that in America this would be considered quite unhealthy. This inadvertently turned the conversation to how fattening American food is. I promise, I have never consumed so much fattening food in my life as living here... and by fatting I mean specifically in terms of fat and carbs. These seem to be staples here and hence almost unavoidable. I have the kilos to prove it. Let me put it this way, if you're going to bike 15 km to get some great pork knee... take the long way home and add another 50 km. The knee is worth it.
A stop at Budkov.
After 15 km through the forest, it's all down hill...wind at your back.
Hmmmm, a restaurant. Svetlana is happy not to have to cook Sunday dinner.
Now the truth comes out. We biked here because of the local delicacy...
PORK KNEE!Drool on you slack jawed yokels...
Actually, I must confess. This is a picture of Tom's Pork Knee. I meant to take a close up of mine when it came. ...and plumb forgot. Slightly diverted.
Now I must say something I found funny. I will chalk it up to cultural proximity... this isn't the right word really; what I mean to indicate is that sometimes you are so close to your culture that you can't see its presumptions.
Here is my case and point: This pork knee, which goes great with beer, is probably 50% fat. Those in the know will understand just how good this makes the meat. Now, I ate the meat and left all most of the fat. Tom finished his, all of his. Then he chided me in a friendly manner that I must eat the fat with the meat and I should eat all of it. I made a comment about thinking this is unhealthy to consume so much fat, by way of saying that in America this would be considered quite unhealthy. This inadvertently turned the conversation to how fattening American food is. I promise, I have never consumed so much fattening food in my life as living here... and by fatting I mean specifically in terms of fat and carbs. These seem to be staples here and hence almost unavoidable. I have the kilos to prove it. Let me put it this way, if you're going to bike 15 km to get some great pork knee... take the long way home and add another 50 km. The knee is worth it.
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