Welcome to my home for the day, isn’t she gorgina?

We didn’t even need an itinerary – just walking these rain-slick cobblestones was entertaining. There is nothing I love more than walking around a new-to-me city.

I can’t stand how pretty it is!!!!

You know we had to pop inside the Korean market, wtf so unexpected! They had New Jeans Pepero and I have regertz now – I should have bought it. I love that Korean is Coreean in Romanian! Also, Magazin = Store/Shop. I fucking flipped out one day (I was on my period, OK??) on Henry for asking what Magazin meant. I was like “HOW HAVE YOU NOT FIGURED IT OUT BY NOW, USE CONTEXT CLUES, MY GUY.”

OK now it’s time for the ROMANIAN FOOD portion of the Sibiu recap! This was an exciting meal because it was our first sit-down meal since we arrived and it was traditional food! (We actually walked out of two other places because it wasn’t true Romanian food and/or there were no veg options, and I hate walking out like that but they were places that didn’t have their menus posted out front so we didn’t know!)

For some bizarre reason, I didn’t write in my vacation journal the name of the restaurant we chose after reading the menu that was set up in the big square, so I will have to ask Henry to look at his receipts when he comes home and will edit this at that point because I don’t feel like waiting.

(Hours later I’m here to report that the restaurant’s name is Zestrea!

We were taken down into the cave-like dining room which was exactly what I had hoped for! Before ordering, the host brought over two shots for us (I’ve been calling it palincă but it apparently has other names depending on the fruit used in it). The ones we were given were plum and cherry. The cherry was actually incredible even for my low-intolerance ass. Granted, it gave me an instant headache but I definitely really liked the taste. Henry’s experience appeared to be more on the excruciating end of the spectrum, lol. I don’t think I have ever seen him wince like that before!

Our waitress was young and super personable – I loved her so much. She helped us each choose a Romanian beer. I got this Bergenbier which is apparently a pilsner whatever that means. It was fine! I couldn’t finish it all though.

Henry got this Caraiman beer, a lager, and I just learned that Caraiman is the name of one of the peaks of the Carpathian mountains!

DUDE IT’S BABY’S FIRST AUTHENTIC ROMANIAN MAMALIGA! I went through a heavy polenta obsession back during the days when I worked at the Tina & Eleanor Company, so 2007-2008 I guess. I remember Bob and Colin used to make fun of me because I would bring different variations of it for my late shift dinner – Henry ended up getting really creative with it too, adding mushrooms, one time we made it dessert-y with blueberries. It was a time to be alive, for sure! I even told my dietician that I anticipated on subsisting primarily on polenta during our trip and she said that was fine, haha.

(Side note: I apparently was so obsessed with polenta back then that I even made an entire CATEGORY for it on this blog, so now I’m excited to add new posts to it, lol.)

I was just going to order some additional sides to go along with it but our waitress suggested the vegetable soup after learning that I don’t eat meat. It was a great decision – warm and hearty on a chilly and rainy day in Transylvania! Can you even imagine a better dinner? I mean, probably everyone reading this (how presumptuous of me, thinking I have readers lol) eats meat so you are all probably thinking, “Yeah, Erin, actually I can think of a thousand better dinners.”

But you guys, this was so filling and delicious. I was so happy.

LOL I just noticed how fucking exhausted he looks.

OK but then the time came for DESSERT and even though we were so stuffed (I can’t even remember now what Henry got???? Sarmale, I think??), we HAD to order papanasi (pronounced papa-nawsh) because that is all the travel vloggers talk about. I knew that there were different types too and that they say you need to try it more  than once, so when we asked our waitress for an order, she hesitated.

“Yes….” she said slowly. “we have papanasi, but…” and here is where I thought she was going to say it cannot be served to Americans, it’s made with pig lard, they were out of some important ingredient….You know how it is with me and getting my hopes dashed at restaurants! But then she went on to say in a cautionary tone, “it’s boiled.”

I was like, “OMG, that’s fine! We don’t care! We haven’t had ANY papanasi yet so we want to try all versions and have nothing to compare it to!” She looked relieved and said, “OK! Well, boiled is MY favorite, so I think you are going to like it.”

I was stoked either way! In fact, I had really only seen people eating the fried version which seems way more popular and accessible, so now we wouldn’t have to hunt down the boiled version!

She brought us each a serving even though we only asked for one, and I was like, “Bro, I don’t even care if my stomach rips open, I am eating all of this. WHEN IN ROMANIA.”

Henry had to ask her for forks, which I think she was already about to retrieve for us from a nearby table, but she jokingly said, “Maybe next time I will have you eat with your hands.” IT WAS SO FUCKING ADORABLE, IN HER ROMANIAN ACCENT, I WAS OBSESSED WITH HER.

I’m on a time crunch here, so I asked Copilot to explain this to you:

• • Rolled in a mixture of toasted breadcrumbs and sugar (sometimes with cinnamon or ground nuts added).
  • Served warm with a dollop of sour cream and a fruit jam, such as sour cherry or blueberry jam. 

Then we walked back to the room to lay down for a little bit a/k/a die a little.

But then we went back out once it was fully dark and this part was actually my favorite: we turned down this one street and heard what sounded like singing. I thought it was the group of people ahead of us that were singing loudly but it turned out that it was actually chanting coming from a nearby Romanian Orthodox Cathedral.

Isn’t it fucking gorgeous? I love churches so much.

You know it’s beautiful when there’s a large group of young guys who were clamoring to get their pictures taken in front of it. First, they were taking turns snapping pictures of each other and then finally some guy took a group photo for them. It was actually really adorable to watch.

Meanwhile, I went over to the side where candles were set up because if there is one thing I love doing, it’s paying churches for the permission to light a candle.

There are so many things to light a candle for these days, it was hard to choose.

Then I saw that people were just walking in freely so… monkey see / monkey do.

There was definitely a small mass going on. I thought it was interesting that the entire floor was devoid of pews, but people were kneeling and/or sitting in these ornate high-rise wooded chairs along the sides.

I was trying to take covert pictures from my hip. This is the ceiling.

We stayed for about 15 minutes, listening to the church-y chant/singing, and then continued on our evening stroll of Sibiu. I told Henry later that this was my highlight from Sibiu and he looked perplexed because it wasn’t his, lol.

(In my vacation journal, I wrote: “He said it wasn’t his favorite part but he found it ‘interesting.” Wow OK no one asked.”)

The Bridge of Lies at night.

There was a little market happening in a small square near the Bridge of Lies, so we went and checked that out. I almost bought a fake/deformed Labubu just so I could say that I bought a fake Labubu in Romania but I honestly couldn’t choose one, they were all so perfectly ugly! Henry almost got a kurtas (Hungarian chimney cake) but I stopped him because the guy was handing out ones that were sitting there, wrapped in plastic, and not ones that he had freshly made. “You don’t want your first kurtas to be cold and stale!” so he actually listened to me and bought a house-shaped gingerbread cookie from another stand instead, to save for the drive the next day.

We went to a little store called CarreFour to look around and ended up buying two bottles of beer (one was Ciuc which Henry drank that night in the room, picture in the Victorian House blog post!) and an Ursus IPA. I got to help one of the older women workers find something she was attempting to restock in the candy aisle and it was a nice and pleasant moment that broke the language barrier. I was so excited to beat Henry too because I could tell he was about to point it out for her.

On the way back to the room, we relented and stopped at one of the many gelato stands because I needed to know, even though we were so full. I chose some baklava flavor and asked for a small scoop in a cup. Being handed the equivalent of a shallow Dixie cup in return was a jarring (but good!) reminder that we weren’t in fat-ass America anymore, where a “small” is comparable to a “large” everywhere else in the world. It was the perfect amount – maybe about 5 or 6 bites. It definitely wasn’t the best gelato I’ve ever had though, I will tell you that honestly lol. (I HAVE BEEN TO ITALY, BRO.)

Then we went back, put on a Romanian music channel on TV, and passed the fuck out.

p.s. Here’s one of my lame and pointless videos recapping our Românian arrival that morning (1AMish!) and then the morning driving to Sibiu after we allowed ourselves to crash for 5 hours.

Collin said that he caught some show on Food Network that was all about polenta.

"Was it awesome?" I asked.

"I didn’t watch it," he said. "I figured I get enough of that at work."

Tonight is his last night sitting next to me because he got a job in a different department. I’m kind of glad that after tonight I won’t have to shield my monitor as defensively, listen to him listening to the best of Lilith Fair, have my every action criticized, and learn of new similarities he shares with Henry. (They both have black hair and glasses and like computer things and Alton Brown, OMG.)

But I guess I’ll miss him.

About as much as Paris Hilton would miss the paparazzi.

I asked him if he’ll be sad when he sits far away and is unable to spy on my every move. Without any hesitation he said "Yes" way more emphatically than I would have guessed.

Though I know he’ll be next to leave, I still have Bob. And without having Collin wedged in between us, we’ll be able to talk about the Real World with greater ease, a topic Collin will surely miss. I’m angry at Bob at the moment though because yesterday he made a big deal about today being some sort of Mister Roger’s Rememberance Day, and everyone was supposed to wear their favorite sweater today. I mean, Bob hyped this so much that it was the first thing I thought of when I woke up. I made a point of selecting my favorite sweater to wear, feeling like it might be akin to spitting on Fred Roger’s grave if I had the audacity to wear a cotton blend instead. Or a polyester lab coat.

Bob is not wearing a sweater today. "Oh, oops. I forgot about that," was his flimsy excuse.

Oh oops. I forgot.

Just wait until the day he needs something. "Oh oops, I forgot about that," I’ll say, when Bob weakly asks if I remembered to bring in that spare kidney he needs to stay alive.

Regardless, it’s still a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Not that I can see much of it.

 Yesterday, I learned that if a person so desires, they can purchase polenta in flavored varieties. This special breed of polenta live in a special home with wonton wrappers and fresh herbs.

At the grocery store, I had a strong urge to double fist the polenta logs and squeeze.

I suppressed the desire.

Supposedly, we were at the store to pick up the ingredients for that amazing blueberry banana polenta orgasm I found a recipe for last week, but all of sudden, we’re standing by the root vegetables, and Henry says that it’s too expensive, the ingredients added together are too expensive. I’m like, "But the blueberries, they’re right over here and they look cheap. The only thing cheaper than these here blueberries is Janna standing on a corner." But he was firm in his decision, saying that he had a different meal plan in mind. I went to sit in the car, that’s where I realized that it’s not the cost of the ingredients, it’s Henry’s wavering doubt in himself, in his culinary prowess. Perhaps he needs to watch Alton Brown handle some polenta dildos, and then he’ll have more inspiration to dabble in the land of sweet polenta dishes.

Last night, in lieu of the blueberry seduction,  Henry stuck with his safe and savory expertise and made some sort of polenta pizza. I think that’s what he was aiming for, at least. Patties of polenta with diced tomatoes and a cap of crispy parmesan cheese. It was interesting. Didn’t taste much like pizza, though. Might have something to do with the corn meal.

I’m having leftovers tonight.

It’s looking like a "polenta" category might need to be created, because Henry is on a roll.

Last night I found out that Giada from the Food Network knows about polenta and evidently likes it enough to have recipes about it. That was enough to win me over. I know lots of people hate her because she’s a Bobblehead, but ever since I watched her Chef Biography, I evicted a few people* from my heart to make room for her.

I thought Henry was feeding me some kind of orphanage staple at first, and I’m too proud to be eating like the poor. Then I read that in Northen Italy, it’s more popular than pasta! I like Italy, the northen parts too, so polenta MUST be alright. As long as hobos aren’t eating it, too.

Feeling inspired, I called up my pal Google and after getting the obligatory "Remember when we were in ‘Nam" chit chat out of the way, he helped me find this recipe and I think I might burst if Henry doesn’t make it.

That Blueberry Banana Polenta Thing
 
2 very ripe bananas
1 cup corn flour  (maybe *fine* ground corn meal, at your own risk)
1/2 cup whole wheat flour (might add wheat germ to increase fiber)
2 T. honey 
1 T. Succanat (or 3 T. Succanat and no honey for vegans)
1/2 cup water (or use *nonfat* milk, juice, or soy moo)
1 1/2 tsp. Ener-g egg replacer (or 1 egg white)
1/4 tsp. guar gum (optional)
1/2 tsp. baking soda (or slightly less)
2 T. nonfat yogurt (this is needed to make the baking soda work)
1/2 tsp. cinnamon (or as much as you can handle, ie. more…)
1/2 tsp. cardamom (ditto)
1 1/2 cups blueberries (fresh)

Preparation: Mash bananas with a potato masher, add all remaining ingredients,
except for blueberries.  Stir well.  Lightly oil a small pan, or 8 muffin tin,
by dipping a paper napkin in a drop of oil and spreading this all over the
baking surface (or spray with Pam).  Pour batter into pan (8" x 5") or muffin
tin.  Sprinkle top with blueberries, the more the better.  Blueberries won’t
sink to the bottom, so you have to press them down if you want to get even more
of them in.  Bake at about 400F for about 25-35 minutes, my guess.  Serve warm.
This will taste quite rich, the warm melted blueberries get runny and yummy!
 _____________________________________________________

Ok, so mostly for me this is  like reading a recipe in ancient Ukranian script, but I see operative words like "blueberry" "honey" and "banana" and that’s all I need to crown a winner. And also some shit called Suckonnat which is now masturbating my curiosity, thanks.

I couldn’t find a photo of this magnificant heap of fruity cornmeal, but I bet it still turns out looking like it just shot down the Devil’s steaming asshole after a late night smorgasbord of chipotle Aborigine bowels and refried lepers, much like this delicious polenta plate with runny fungus slopped over top pictured below. Probably it will be blue diarrhea at least.

*Henry and my mom.

Before I left for work, Henry emerged from the kitchen with a plate of food.

"Oooh, pineapple!" I exclaimed, pawing for one. It was warm. Mmm, baked pineapple! A surprise midday dessert, how thoughtful of him.

I popped it in my mouth and confusion was immediate. "Is this meat??" I screamed, slack-jawed.

"It’s polenta, you retard. And it’s for Chooch, not you," Henry said as he shouldered past me.

"But is it meat?" I cried again.

This led to a boring explanation of what polenta is, most of which I zoned out of.  "And you better like it," he said at the end of his lecture, "because it’s what you’re having for dinner."

I’m eating it right now, and I think I’m falling in obsession with it. I was leery at first, don’t be mistaken! Two rubbery blocks of cornmeal doused with a red sauce, shredded cheese and mushrooms? Ew. I’m scared when Henry melts cheese atop of his meals, because I assume he’s trying to hide something from me, mask some flavor he thinks I’d be adverse to. The dressed-up planks of mush were buffeted by a southwestern corn mix (straight from the freezer, huh Henry?) with ONIONS. Henry, you asshole.

Collin seemed just as intrigued by it as I was and kept asking me all these questions like I’m a portable Food Network search engine. The best I could do was tell him it had the consistency and texture of a congealed and gelatinous corn pudding.

It has good form, nice spring. I want to be sculpting with it now.

I feel like I want to fry it up with strawberries. (I almost said broiled but then I realized I don’t know what that is.) What’s the best way to eat this junk, anyway?