Czech Carrot Ginger Soup - Page 2

It was in Prague that I broke my 6 years as a vegetarian. I arrived and was offered (more or less) to eat tomatoes, cucumber and fried cheese for 4 months, or dine on wild rosemary boar, cheese infused kielbasa, goulash with bread dumplings, chicken stuffed with ham and cheese… I thought I should take advantage of the situation. I happily broke my meat fast with bacon-crusted lamb (though my stomach did not forgive me for a while).

There were few restaurants that we could recall the actual name of. We were taking Czech language classes, could read signs, and understand what we ordered (most of the time). More often we called an establishment by the beer they served. Our local favorites included Velvet (mm their goulash!), Staropramen, Gambrinus, Rebel, Radegast, Kelt (with the above mentioned wild boar), Krušovice…

There were two restaurants we could recall the names of. One was U Homera or “At Homer’s”. Rather, “at Homer Simpson’s,” where one could order the Milhousova or Margini Syr and other foods based on characters from the popular television show. There was also Portabella Roads. Remembered because it had an English sign out front— and it was across the street from our favorite breakfast place: “Bernard”-- where we dined on “ghost fingers” and drank Bernard Dark).

It was here, at Portabella Roads that I had carrot soup. Amongst countless delicious items (we went there weekly) it was the carrot soup that was ordered religiously. Sweet, buttery, and succulent, it would have been perfect as a meal on its own (but we were gluttonous students amazed at how far our dollar traveled).

It was the fall semester I spent in Prague. It would have been around this time that I made my post-semester travel plans, packed my things and said naschledanou to my fellow students. And it is now that I miss that carrot soup. I long to descend into the hidden Portabella Roads and enjoy the warm buttery soup with a cold beer. I long to return to my fairyland and walk the cobblestone streets to visit Kafka’s house up at the castle, walk the Charles Bridge into the old section, back to the secret garden T and I found, visit Frank at the old castle, and gaze at Shiele’s originals. I would head out to the Bone Church in Cesky Krumluv to marvel at the structure or visit B’s family in the south. This country is a marvel to have been part of. To be there is to be touched by legend. Now, I am a little closer; though miss it all the more with this carrot ginger soup.

Article Author: Stacey

Stacey holds a Master's Degree in the History of Education from NYU. She is a contributing author and editor to the textbook Contemporary Issues in Curriculum (Allyn & Bacon, June 2006). Stacey is also a contributer to the WellFed Network. …

Visit Stacey's author page — Stacey's Blog