Kolaches versus Klobasniky

I have a beef with “kolaches.” I feel confident to speak on the subject given my pedigree, so let me start by vetting myself:

1. My last name is the Czech surname, Matusek. It is pronounced, "Muh-TU-sek”. Although it has been bastardized in the American vernacular, people from the old country and my kinfolks in Sweet Home, Texas still pronounce it “Mah-ta-SCHEK”.
2. I am half Czech. My dad is full-blooded and was the first in the clan not to marry a second cousin or a neighboring Czech farm girl.
3. My grandmother’s generation grew up speaking Czech as their first language in the home. She made sure some of the old language passed on to her grandkids. Sadly, I have forgotten just about all of it except the curse words.
4. I went to high school in Shiner, Texas. Founded by Czech immigrants, this mostly-Czech community is known for its Spoetzl Brewery which cranks out the famous Shiner Bock.
5. My high school fight song was the Shiner Polka. Sung in Czech, it reminisces about sunny Shiner, Texas and empty kegs of beer. Yes, our fight song was about pounding brewskies.

Now that I have validated my lineage, let’s get back to my beef.

If you find a good bakery or donut shop in South Texas, chances are you will find some Czech sweet treats known as “kolaches.” A true kolac is a circular, pillow-like, puff pastry with a small dimple in the middle, occupied by a fruit compote or sweet cheese filling.

Now, next to those oh-so-delicious kolaches in this Texas bakery, you might find some sausage rolls (aka pig-in-the-blankets). These treats are “klobasniky”. They come from a similar yeast-based dough as a kolac(singular form of kolaches) yet have sausage inside.

THESE ARE NOT KOLACHES.

I don’t care what the gal working the donut counter labels them. She’s wrong and you should tell her. Or better yet, refer her to this post. Just remember, if the pastry has meat, it is a klobasnek. If it has fruit or a sweet cheese filling, it is a kolac.

Would you call a scone a biscuit?

Or a crepe a pancake?

No, you wouldn’t. Now it is high time for everyone to culture-up and learn about Czech pastries.

Kolache

Kolaches

Klobasnek

klobasniky

If you are looking for the best place to find authentic Czech kolaches and klobasniky, find a place that can answer the question,

"Jak se mas? (how are you doing in Czech.)

Chances are, they will respond,

“Dobre",

meaning "good" and I’d assume the food would be too.

My recommendation: My Aunt Mag makes the best kolaches and klobasniky, but if you are not in Sweet Home then run on over to Kountry Bakery in Hallettsville, Texas. Even though their menu states, “sausage kolaches,” I’m hoping they just conformed for outsiders.

Finally, a huge shout out to my great-aunt Mag who took the time to pass down the famous, Janak family kolache recipe.  Be sure to see my next post where she patiently teaches me step by step.

...and a second shout out to my Aunt Cynthia for digging up old photos of my grandparents, Marvin and Genevieve Matusek. Nana Gene seemingly always had a fresh batch of kolaches and she supervised some of my first experiments in the kitchen. I am so thankful for the memories I have with both of them.

Spi sladce (sleep sweetly)

Nana Gene & Pa Marvin

That's me, digging in Nana Gene's kitchen cabinets

This ‘ol Gal is Smoking Hot

It’s a damn good feeling to be back in the Lone Star state. For the past few weeks, I’ve been at home resting up and sampling some good eats. I’ve gotten more than a few dinner requests from the Family and I’m beginning to think they have forgotten that my time in New York was spent in a meat cooler, not a kitchen.

Whatever. I love to get in the kitchen, throw on some jams, and make something special.

Since I’ve been home, I’ve learned to make tamales and I tied and prepared a huge rib roast for the Family Christmas dinner; however I was craving to experiment with things I had learned in New York. Unfortunately, I lacked a commercial kitchen and shiny appliances like I had access to at Fleishers. That meant I was going to have to find my own and on a broke butcher’s budget. After mapping out my meat quest I figured I would need the following:

• a smoker to practice my brisket making,
• a dehydrator to test my new jerky recipes,
• and a curing chamber for some charcuterie experimentation.

My trip to New York wiped out my bank account, but Santa Claus came through with a couple of Benji’s in my stocking. I just had to decide which one of the three pieces of equipment to invest in. I only had enough cash for one. The other two would have to be put on the back-burner. This was my line of thinking until I stumbled on an old, unclaimed smoker.

At first, I wasn’t sure if the ‘ol gal would work. There were rust holes in the bottom, the grill had come detached, and the pipe stack that once rose from the pit had been severed. Her thermometer had definitely seen better days. Its glass cover was shattered and the needle registered a perpetual 185°.

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All and all, not insurmountable for an old Boy Scout. A quick trip to Walmart for a freestanding oven thermometer and a few twists of wire to get the grill back on, I had the ‘ol gal back on her feet. Now to give her a test run.

On the actual brisket, I figured I couldn’t go wrong. Chef Jason and I had thrown one in the electric smoker in New York and it turned out awesome – no work and great meat with an amazing bark. Since my smoker didn’t exactly stack up to that commercial one, I would have to keep a careful watch over this brisket the entire time it cooked. The main chamber temperature needed to hover around 225° and stay as smoke-filled as possible.

Pulling an all-nighter would require some help. Luckily, the fridge was stocked with Shiner Bock and my brother was home for Christmas break.   He willingly volunteered as soon as I uttered the word “fire.”

We’ve been pyro-maniacs since birth.

The new recruit and I made our way to the local meat market where we commandeered an 15lb. USDA select brisket. Yeah, it wasn’t the 100% grass-fed brisket I was use to working with in New York, but it would do.

After a good thirty minutes of hand-grinding seasonings, I laid down a heavy coat of salt and pepper over the meat.

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In the meantime, Sam had started a fire in the smoke chamber and once he had a good bed of coals and the oven thermometer read 225°, we placed the brisket in the main chamber.

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Pit masters apply wood chips to create a large amount of smoke without all the heat of a large fire. I applied hickory wood chips every 10-15 minutes throughout the night.

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The next morning, the meat thermometer read 190° when I placed it into the center of the brisket. I pulled the brisket from the hand-me-down smoker and let it set.

The ‘ol gal had done good. The bark was thick, dark and glistening. The smoke ring was a lovely ombre red.

After 30 minutes of resting, I sliced and shared.

Sweet victory!

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Feedback:

1. Aunt Hedy thought it was a bit peppery. It might have been from all the fresh cracked pepper I used.
2. Mom thought the meat could have been more tender, but the flavor was spot on.
3. Note to self: ALWAYS invest in good meat. If you want a great end product, you have to use great ingredients.