On exiting the Market Square at Kraków, a full-bodied aroma of cinnamon, a few other spices and coffee overwhelms my olfactory organs. It seems familiar, yet unidentifiable. The trail leads me to a food truck that proudly advertises its chief speciality, ‘chimney cake’. The slogan makes a prophetic point: ‘Life is too short to eat bad cakes’. I queue up behind a dozen regulars, braving the intermittent drizzle and icy winds to sample what I hope is full of baked goodness. I peep through the glass window of the truck to witness the fascinating journey of the dough being slapped into a cylindrical form. The expert hands of the baker then slathers copious amount of butter and sugar on it. Once a golden exterior is achieved, it’s time to pull it down, only to slather it with a topping (I pick Nutella). The masterpiece is then wrapped in paper before it reaches my eager hands. One bite and life is beautiful, the world almost perfect.
But trdelnik or chimney cake is not native to Poland and instead has its origins in Romania. Culturally, Poland has absorbed elements from its neighbours and the strongest influence can be seen in its cuisine. Across centuries, foreign dishes that were brought to Poland include goulash from Hungary and pastry from France among others, and they form an intricate part of Polish cuisine.
Available in different avatars across Eastern Europe is pierogis. Similar to Chinese dumplings, they are available everywhere — from modest eateries to artisanal cafes. These stuffed dumplings, which pack in everything from ground meat to potato and cheese, are considered a national delicacy and are placed high on the must-try list of Polish cuisine. Finding a place to sample this meaty envelope is easy and I come across a quaint café specialising in all things pierogi, located in one of the by-lanes of Kraków’s charming market square. Close to lunchtime, the modest outfit is almost full and the patrons comprise a mix of students, chatty grandmas and tourists. Soon, my name was called out and I am handed a plate of buttery goodness — soft, yet firm on the outside and mushy inside.
Over the next few days, I try several variants of these puffy delights with a range of fillings like cottage cheese, onion, mashed potatoes, and sauerkraut among others. Pierogis are comfort fare available at every street corner, where the vendor ladles half-a-dozen dumplings into a paper plate along with sautéed onions and sour cream as garnish.
The best way to sample the gastronomical delights of Poland is on foot. I decide to start from the southern fringes of the Old Town, close to the 11th-century Wawel Castle, where restaurants are docked on the banks of the Vistula river. I hop aboard one to try a dish that can be best described as chicken stuffed with mozzarella, potato fries and salad, and their chief attraction: pan-fried trout.
After spending a few hours at the Castle, I walk towards the old Jewish quarter of Kazimierz. Having witnessed some of the worst atrocities in World War II and left to its devices during the Soviet regime, Kazimierz has now emerged as a district that retains a distinct cultural flair. The cobbled alleys lead to synagogues, cafés and to Plac Nowy, a square lined with market stalls and hole-in-the-wall eateries, which retail the lip-smacking zapiekanka (toasted open baguettes with cheese, mushrooms, ham and onions), essentially a French bread pizza with the toppings of choice. Surrounding the square are some 300-odd stalls, which come to life every day at 7am and wind up by early afternoon.
After investing a disproportionate amount in some war souvenirs, I hop on to the nearby stalls selling garlicky borscht (beetroot and onion soup), honeyroasted lamb and other specialities like duck stuffed with apple, and pork with pickled cabbage. I settle for a quick snack of smoked kielbasa, the famed Polish sausage. Available in red and white versions, the white is generally cheaper and fattier while the red is more commonly served in restaurants across Poland. As I take a ride back to the market square, I am directed to a nondescript bar to sample the best vodka in town. Over two decades, changing tastes and preferences have pushed Polish producers to tone down its ‘hard drink’ image by introducing flavoured vodkas, which are equally potent. My first shot for the evening is monte (hazelnut vodka with milk). The Poles prefer it neat and chilled, with baked potatoes, sour cucumber and salty herring as accompaniments.
After a few shots of vibovit (plum vodka with orange syrup) and farelka (Zubrówka with chocolate syrup and Tabasco), I order a steak tartare, a choice I regret after the first bite. I fail to appreciate the charms of finely chopped raw beef with a raw egg on the top. I immediately grab a chupa chup (lemon vodka with ginger syrup and pepper) to cleanse my palate. I then settle for the herrings and I am not disappointed.
Sayoni Sinha is a Mumbai-based writer