If you ever find your tummy rumbling as you approach Albany, Oregon, a medium-sized mill town in the Willamette Valley, make a beeline for exit 233 on I-5. Follow your nose to Novak’s Hungarian Restaurant. Better yet, plan ahead. At www.mapquest.com, plug in your starting point, then enter 2306 Heritage Way SE, Albany, OR 97321 into the destination field. Print a map to this paprikas paradise, and you are ready to roll. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

But I’m getting ahead of myself; no need to rush out the door just yet. Believe it or not, there is actually a short story here.

It starts when Joseph and Matilda Novak came to the US from Hungary in 1957 and opened their restaurant in 1984 (hey, maybe they were perfecting their incredible recipes for 27 years, who knows?) Over the years, the family-run business has developed a loyal following not just in its hometown, but from all corners of the Pacific Northwest and well beyond.

On numerous visits, Joe has told me that the family has been blessed. Truth be told, its his patrons’ bellies that have been blessed. I can honestly say that I’ve never been disappointed with a meal at Joe’s place (and the desserts are delectible).

As fortune would have it, friends Jimmie, Nancy, and Katie invited me to Novak’s for dinner just the other night. Since I showed up a good hour late, sadly, there was only time for a slice of cake and glass of wine. A quick review of the house list revealed an Egri Bikavér [pronounced EH-grih BIH-kah-vahr], described as a “Rustic Hungarian red with leather, dried cherry, and plum flavors.” It sounded adventuresome, so that’s what I ordered, knowing nothing about its storied past.

A little digging on www.Wikipedia.com unearthed a some fascinating facts about Egri Bikavér. Also known as Bull’s Blood of Eger, it’s Hungary’s most famous red wine. Egri Bikavér hails from the Eger wine region of northern Hungary probably by way of Turkey. When Suleiman the Magnificant and his marauding army of Turks invaded the country in the 1552, they were kind enough to bring a castle warming (er… sacking) gift, the Kadarka grape. Actually, wine vinified from the Kadarka probably helped raise the Hungarians’ spirits after their lands were plundered and stores of cabbage, potatoes, and pork were gobbled up by the usurpers. 

Four-and-a-half centuries after Suleiman’s siege at Eger, and Katie and I are sifting through a glass of the ancient grape’s progeny on our own quest to find the hint of leather described on the menu. Under no pressure from flaming arrows, catapult fire, or battering ram, we’re able to relax and savor the fruit of the Kadarka vine. We were quickly able to identify the dried cherry, and I detected (or imagined) a few molecules of licorice in the dark red wine, but nothing that smelled or tasted remotely like animal hide let alone bull. (Discovering plum was of little consequence to our mission. If that stone fruit was present, it was overwhelmed by its drupaceous cousin, the cherry.)

Stumped, Katie suggested that I pour the Egri Bikavér into my shoe to release the leather flavor. I spared everyone at and around my table by not removing that article of clothing. Instead, after letting the wine snuggle up to our palates for a few seconds, then dutifully repeating the process two or three more times, we gave up the quest and moved on. Satisfied with the flavors that we were able to taste, talk turned from food and drink to everyone’s latest antics and a few good laughs.

All too soon, it was time to part company and leave the wonderful smells eminating from the old world kitchen. But I’ll be back to the Novaks’ place for more − unconcerned about confirming the wine list’s description next time around. I’ll relax and enjoy my Hungarian friends’ favorite wine, crimson Bull’s Blood of Eger, while savoring a nice hot dish of mama’s piping hot chicken paprikas.

Until then, sziasztok!

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