On Fat Tuesday I ate my first pączki, a traditional Polish pastry. I don't remember pączki last year before Lent but I guess they are a big deal around these parts. There were even newspaper articles and pączki dances so naturally I had to see what these pączki were all about.
I was stopping by the grocery store for milk when I spotted a whole table piled with pączki. I warily circled the table trying to decide if I should bother buying a food David wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole then I went for it. Live to win! Buy the pączki! I carefully selected apple filled pączki hoping I would be able to force some on David and not have to consume all the pastries myself.
In Southern California pączki isn't a common pastry so I wasn't sure how to pronounce it. I asked the gentleman behind me in line who was carrying two boxes of pączki to my one. He told me it was pronounced "poochkey". I came home and consulted Wikipedia; there were some other pronunciations so I guess he wasn't wrong. Maybe he was using some regional pronunciation.
David was horrified by the box of glistening, iced pastries. He wouldn't touch them just as I suspected. He wasn't even dissuaded by the normalcy of the apples. Of course, I had at least three pączki and was sad I hadn't purchased cherry-filled or cream cheese-filled considering I was the only one inhaling them like I was sugar deprived. Finally, David broke down and tried one after I danced around with the box saying, "We are in Cleveland now! This is what Clevelanders eat! You have to try a little bit!" He said, "This is just a jelly donut." It's true they are similar to jelly donuts but they are made slightly different so they last a little longer than donuts. I should go back and get myself a box of cherry filled pączki. After all, I'm in Cleveland and I have to fit in, even if that means not fitting into my pants.
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