Oh, Prague! Where Are You Hiding the Kolache?
There are so many reasons to visit Prague. With its alluring architecture, the iconic and historic sites, and the many diverse neighborhoods, the Czech Republic’s capital city is undeniably one of Europe’s most beautiful cities and at the top of everyone’s bucket list. But for me, a visit to Prague meant so much more.
When, in casual conversation, I would mention to my non-Czech friends that my husband and I would be travelling to Prague, I would receive an abundance of suggestions for things to do and “must see” sites such as the Charles Bridge, the Prague Castle, etc.. However, when I told of our prospective travels to my Czech friends and family, the overwhelming reactions centered on food and drink. “You must try the Pilsner Urquell beer!”, “I know of this restaurant with the best dumplings, just like my grandmother used to make,” or “You’re so lucky that you’re going to get to eat a real Czech kolache!” Through these exchanges I became elucidated to the idea among all of the aspects which define a culture, food is the preeminent common thread that is braided into our shared heritage and bonds us instinctively with our ancestors.
As I was planning, researching, and obsessing about our visit to Prague, I felt such a visceral connection to the country and its heritage. But even with all of the history, beauty, and culture the nation offered, the thing I was looking forward to more than anything else was sinking my teeth into an authentic kolache baked with the loving hands of my people.
Joel and I stayed at The Alchymist Hotel, a charming boutique hotel located just steps away from the U.S. Embassy. Many amenities and services were included in our stay including wine and appetizers every day at 5:00pm, as well a substantial breakfast buffet. When I heard of this upon checking in, I couldn’t stop thinking about kolache, which I would surely find at the buffet. Visions of apricot, poppy seed, and prune kolache danced in my head.
Early on our first morning, we made our way down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. As we were being led to our table, I quickly glanced at the breakfast buffet, taking in the aroma of freshly baked breads, sausages, and other tantalizing dishes. We went through the ritual of sitting down, then immediately getting up to make our way to the buffet. Naturally, I went straight to the breads and pastries table. Kolache were nowhere to be found. Although I was disappointed in the hotel’s fare, I shrugged my shoulders, had my fill of the other delicious offerings, and knew that I would find kolache somewhere as we toured the city.
Our tour guide for the day was a lovely woman named Eva who was born and raised in Prague. She and I shared stories of our mothers and other relatives whom we would find boisterously gossiping in the kitchen for hours as they kneaded the daily dough. Our stories matched so closely that we wondered if we may not have been related! At the end of our tour in the Old Town section of Prague, I asked Eva where we could find a bakery which sold kolache. She was perplexed in that no one, in her many years as a tour guide, had ever asked her for such a bakery and she was not familiar with one herself. Now I was the one who was perplexed. Being a helpful guide, she called one of her colleagues for a recommendation. Much to our mutual dismay, her colleague was dumbfounded, as well. She explained that there were several bakeries around the area, but kolache were not that popular. My heart sank to the ground with this news, but I would not be dissuaded; I persevered on my quest for that elusive kolache.
After parting our ways with our tour group, Joel and I strolled through the Old Town Square, admiring the baroque architecture and the many historical sites including the Powder Tower and Tyn Cathedral. We joined the large gathering of tourists excitedly awaiting the Astronomical Clock’s performance featuring the mechanical Walk of the Apostles welcoming in the new hour. The clock chimed five times, alerting my stomach that it was time to eat and that it was still missing a kolache.
“We’re not leaving this city without finding you a kolache,” Joel said to me as he lovingly put his arm around my shoulder. He then took out his phone and ran a quick Google search for bakeries close by. According to the search results, a bakery was just a few hundred yards away! I tried to remain positive and hopeful that this bakery would have kolache, but after an entire day of searching, I was feeling rather discouraged.
As soon as we stepped foot into the bakery, I knew that my taste buds would soon be very happy. The welcoming aroma of the freshly baked goods together with the traditional polka music playing softly through the speakers immediately sparked the fond memory of my mother in the kitchen singing in her native Czech language while kneading the dough in two-step time.
We walked over to the large glass case, displaying the multitude of cakes, rolls, and cookies. Tears began to well up in my eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was from the sense of loss ignited by the memory of my mother or the fact that I didn’t see any kolache.
“Excuse, do you have any kolache?” I asked the woman behind the case.
“All we have left is this poppy seed one,” she replied as she directed me to the end of the case.
“I’ll take it!” I exclaimed. I could not believe my luck! Poppy seed was my favorite!
We walked back to the Old Town Square where I had to stop and sink my teeth into the delectable treat I was holding in my hands. While the texture and flavor was not the same as my mother’s, I still felt a connection to her with each sweet, chewy bite.
I was reminded from those few days in Prague of how powerfully food can connect us to our past. So, even though kolache are not as important today in the Czech culinary world as was 150 years ago when my ancestors emigrated to the United States, it continues to hang on by the thinnest of threads.
Somehow, I think my angel mother saved that last poppy seed kolache at the bakery for me.