Photo from Tori Avey with recipe here.
My mother is upset. The kolaches at Public Option are not true kolaches, says she. “They must be Texas kolaches,” she claims with disdain.
There is no food that has not been subject to alterations, incarnations, elaborations in some major US city in 2017. Foodies have indelibly fused anything and everything that anyone recalls eating from days gone by. My mother is 89 and she knows kolaches.
Kolaches, a favorite Czech and Slovak dessert originating from Eastern Europe, are baked pastries of yeast dough with delicious fruit filling. Some fillings include prune, poppy seed, apricot, cherry, & cottage cheese.
Thanks to Steve Hildreth for the inside on Verdigre.
My mother is in this camp. With heels dug in next to her tent stakes. She has plenty of company and, to be frank, I’m with her. The kolaches I know from childhood in Wisconsin and from my own kitchen are open and filled with something sweet. That said, the kolaches at Public Option are totally delicious and I plan to go often for half-smoke kolaches and a beer.
‘Show him the spiced plums, mother. Americans don’t have those,’ said one of the older boys. ‘Mother uses them to make kolaches,’ he added. Leo, in a low voice, tossed off some scornful remark in Bohemian. I turned to him. ‘You think I don’t know what kolaches are, eh? You’re mistaken, young man. I’ve eaten your mother’s kolaches long before that Easter Day when you were born.’
– Willa Cather’s novel My Antonia (1918), about Bohemian immigrants in Nebraska in the 1880s