{"id":981,"date":"2010-07-21T20:27:15","date_gmt":"2010-07-21T20:27:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/polish\/?p=981"},"modified":"2010-07-22T07:22:04","modified_gmt":"2010-07-22T07:22:04","slug":"taste-of-summer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/polish\/taste-of-summer\/","title":{"rendered":"The Taste of Summer"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>I love summer! I love the weather. I love the activities you can do because the weather is so nice. And I love the abundance of fresh vegetables and fruits that are available to eat. And between my fruit garden and my Mom’s garden, there is a tasty buffet all within an arm’s reach.<\/p>\n

And since harvest time is upon us, I thought I would throw out some garden vocabulary at you so you too can take pride in your harvests – in Polish!<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Tuesday night, I took my sons over to my Mom’s house. Babcia<\/strong> (Grandma) had a day off, and she had made a delicious summer obiad<\/strong> (dinner) for us to share. Lean panierowane kotlety schabowe<\/strong> (breaded pork chops) were on the menu, with a delicious side of pieczone ziemniaki<\/strong> (baked potatoes) and a Polish favorite, mizeria<\/strong> (see Anna’s post, “Not so Miserable Mizeria<\/a>“). Now, I personally prefer the traditional gotowane ziemniaki<\/strong> (boiled potatoes) topped with a little bit of fresh koper<\/strong> (dill), but this dinner just brought back childhood memories and made me feel good. Plus, I like to mix my potatoes into my bowl of mizeria<\/strong>, which just turns it into a little bowl of heaven. Mom is not very keen on this, and she reminds me regularly that it’s a trait of dziadek<\/strong> (grandfather) that lives on in me. His justification was, “To wszystko idzie do tego samego miejsca<\/strong>!” (It all goes to the same place!) I agree, but I just really happen to like it when the juices from the mizeria soak my potato. Yum!<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>So after dinner, as if we were not full enough, we ventured to the backyard to pick some fruit. Unfortunately, the brzoskwini<\/strong> (peaches) are not ripe yet, which was fine because the pestka<\/strong> (pit) is tough to deal with for my youngest son, and he ends up spitting out the sk\u00f3rka<\/strong> (skin) too. There was plenty of ripe je\u017cyny<\/strong> (blackberries) to eat. Some were s\u0142odkie<\/strong> (sweet), but many were zgry\u017aliwe<\/strong> (tart). Apparently not tart enough for my oldest son, because he went back and picked the red je\u017cyny<\/strong> and ate those too. As any good Polish mom would, I reprimanded him immediately and told him, “Brzuszek b\u0119dzie bola\u0142<\/strong>!” (Belly is going to hurt!) Sure enough, later he did get a bit of a belly ache, but nothing a bedtime story and snuggling couldn’t cure.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Little boys are awesome; they have an endless supply of energy and a bottomless pit where their stomachs should be. My oldest set out on a quest to find everything that Babcia<\/strong> was growing in her garden. He was amazed by the climbing vines that bore fasolka szparagowa<\/strong> (string beans). And after looking at one green pomidor<\/strong> (tomato) after another, he found the first ripe pomidor<\/strong>, a yellow variety my Mom was growing that she brought back from her September 2009 trip to Poland. Now, my Dad’s side of the family has a tradition. When someone picks the first harvest, you go up to that person and tap their forehead typically with a spoon, saying, “Na balinki, na balinki<\/strong>.” What does it mean? I am honestly not sure at all. Since my father passed away, I have sent requests to his side of the family for clarification. If any readers have insight, please share in the comments.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Back to the garden, we have a few more items to review from Babcia’s ogr\u00f3dek<\/strong> (garden):<\/p>\n