I can’t believe I ate the whole hurka!

I think this should explain everything you need to know about being Hungarian. Except the “s” is always pronounced “sh.” Probably because their mouths are always full. You’re welcome.

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You really, really have to see this movie. It’s worth the load time. While you wait, I think I’ve figured out the words so you can sing along:

Eat the hurka, eat the hurka,
It’s the best in any meal

Eat the hurka, eat the hurka,

It’s all oily
It’s all smelly
It makes winter into summer,

We eat spinach just to get some!

Old men like it!
Ladies like it!

Serve it with bread and mayo, yeah!
Eat it with your entire village!

(Which reminds me, Rifle Sport is in the Entry this month.)

2 comments to I can’t believe I ate the whole hurka!

  • Let’s just call it a “liberated” translation. However the hurka speaks to you, that’s what it says. I think it’s that nasty black sausage. My real father gave me a gift of some “authentic” Hungarian sausage (no, not *that* one) and when I sliced off a hunk I nearly barfed all over it. There were like these calcified lumps of fat that were just easing their way out of the “meat.” Oh god, was it gross. If only my mother had married that nice Pierre fella.

  • Or Juan. Or Giovanni. Anyone with a better food tradition than Hungary.