(Dorothy and her husband owned “the bar” for some time starting in the 90s. And my mom tells me that she was the grandma of a high school boyfriend I had. One who, upon seeing me at the Mokane World’s fair at least seven years after we’d both left town, asked if there was something he did or didn’t do to make me gay. Bless his heart.)

Hello, Gentle Reader.

I hope you’ll excuse my absence. I didn’t mean to ghost you. I suppose I was worried about what I could possibly do next, after the 10 recipes I promised. I’ve almost got that figured out now.

And, in all honestly, I was kind of running out of ideas. I know this can’t be true, but it felt like I’d cooked the whole book already. I mean, how many casseroles can a person make?

I guess the answer is: always one more.

* * *

Before I even started writing this piece, I posted a picture of the ingredients to show you guys I was up to some more cooking. A friend guessed it was going to be goulash. I found that funny since Mom and I were just talking about the goulash she used to make when I was a kid. It’s one of the things I remember loving. It was macaroni noodles, beef, canned tomatoes, and I think that’s about it. I’m sure Mom added onions. Maybe some green pepper. She said now she can’t even remember.

My friend’s guess wasn’t too far from the truth, and it got me wondering: what even is goulash?

Well, it’s Hungarian. And its origins can be traced as far back as the 9th or 10th century! The word “Goulash” comes from the people who invented it, and like most chefs we’ve met so far, those people were of little means. The original cooks were “gulyas” or “herdsmen” or cowboys or shepherds. They roamed the Hungarian plains tending to cattle. Since they needed to travel light, they slow cooked millet, onions, bacon, salt, and maybe black pepper in a cauldron over and open fire and then let it all dry in the sun. (The only time beef was added was when one of their herd died.) They packed that into bags made of sheep’s stomach, and when they got hungry on the road, they threw some water in and had a hearty meal. This dish is the original dehydrated backpacker meal, apparently. I’d love to see some modern hikers pull this out on the trail.

Of course, Hungary is known for its paprika, but that wasn’t added to the dish until sometime in the 18th century when the people modified chiles from the Americas to create their paprika. Goulash became popular in the early 1800s across Europe as it climbed up the social ladder, but there was concern that it was “too crude for ladies.” Though I laugh at the idea of gendered food, I realize there are people out there who won’t drink certain coffees or eat salads because they’re “feminine.” (But I suppose that’s a topic for another time.)

Now, goulash is one of the national dishes of Hungary.

The goulash Hungarians are so proud of is usually a stew or soup simmered for hours, rich with paprika. Of course, what Mom made for us in the 80s wasn’t that (though she did make a lot of beef stews). What she made, I’ve just learned, had a name, “American Goulash,” and it’s made of exactly what I told you earlier: macaroni, beef, and tomato sauce, give or take a few vegetables. I’ve read it’s sometimes called, “American Chop Suey.”

Either of those would’ve been good, I think, but I didn’t make a goulash; I made a beef noodle casserole.

Since I already knew this dish wasn’t going to be exceptionally flavorful, I added the salt, pepper, 1 whole onion chopped, at least 5 garlic cloves, some granulated garlic, and sliced raw carrots to the pot while cooking the meat. I even threw in some pork fat we had leftover from Thanksgiving.

I bought egg noodles because the directions just said, “medium noodles.” I saw the package was 12 ounces, and just threw all of those in the the pot. Since I added 1/4 more noodles, I decided to use a whole quart of home canned tomato juice and one small can of paste to thicken it. So, I doubled the liquid content. And that may have contributed to the Chef Gaby rating it received.

* * *

It looked like a hearty casserole when I pulled it from the oven. As I tried to get a picture for this post, Cyrus and Gaby started eating.

Cyrus proclaimed its deliciousness within a few seconds. I turned to see Gaby eating it and searched her face for some hint of her thoughts. She chewed with no expression.

So, I wasn’t surprised when I took a bite that it was very, very bland. It tasted like noodles soaked in a very mild tomato sauce. Even the sharp cheddar was imperceptible. I added salt, pepper, hot sauce. It didn’t seem to do a lot for it.

Cyrus ate two helpings quicker than they eat most other things and even heated some up for a snack the next day.

Gaby and I speculated if it’s supposed to be a quick lasagna. I thought it might work better with Italian sausage or something. Next time, I’ll use Gaby’s home canned tomato sauce (with basil and other herbs), and the sausage. I think that might make it tastier.

I also asked Gaby for her opinion on the cooking of the carrots. She said, “I didn’t notice any. So. Mush.”

There are a lot of leftovers, so I’ve been eating it for lunch every day since. Like a pot of chili, it does taste better the next day. But this is neither a hearty goulash nor a pot of spicy chili. It is simply: beef noodle casserole.

Chef Gaby’s rating on a scale of 0 – Grandpa’s Pasta Sauce: “bland.”

To be fair: this dish will please children who’ve only been fed chicken nuggets and mac and cheese (or those who had a feeding tube for more than half their life and are still learning to eat) and those people you know who refuse to try new things like that cousin I had who only ate rolls and mashed potatoes at every Thanksgiving.

If you’re interested in the history of paprika in Hungary, here’s a nice article from Smithsonian Magazine.

Hungary for Casserole

serves 8

1 1/4 pound of Italian sausage, or ground beef, or a mixture

1 package of egg noodles

20 ounces of tomato sauce

1 onion, chopped

I cup carrots, sliced thin

1 cup sour cream

1 cup whole milk cottage cheese

at least 2 teaspoons salt

at least 1 teaspoon pepper

6 garlic cloves

1/2 teaspoon paprika

1 cup shredded extra sharp cheddar cheese

1/4 fresh parsley, chopped

Directions: preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Brown the meat for a few minutes, then add: onion, 1 teaspoon salt, pepper, garlic, paprika, and carrots. Cook until meat is done.

Meanwhile, cook the noodle according to package directions.

Stir in tomato sauce and 1 teaspoon salt into meat mixture and let simmer for a few minutes until thickened.

Removed from heat and stir in sour cream, cottage cheese, and parsley.

In a greased 9×14 casserole dish, add noodles, top with mixture, and fold gently to mix.

Add the cheddar cheese to the top and cook at 350 for about 20 minutes.