Romanian Food Festival

I love sarmale. That's right, food talk first. The Romanian Food Festival held in Colleyville at St. Mary's Romanian Orthodox Church is small, but well organized with plenty of food. It reminds me in a way of a tiny ren festival without the bad English accents. You park in the grass, there's a row of food vendors, constant live music, pick nick tables, and people in costume walking about--but instead of pirates and women in bodices you have dancers in traditional Romanian outfits and little girls in their gymnastics cloths.


Today was the perfect day to play outside. It was almost 80 degrees, sunny, and breezy. That's the weather, now back to the food.

Sarmale are cooked sour cabbage rolls stuffed with finely ground pork and rice, covered with tomato sauce. Good stuff. We passed on the corn, beans, and cabbage salad. Today was definitely a naughty day. We continued on the carnivorous track we had set out on today and had  the mititei, a grilled a skinless sausage (probably pork as well) served with mustard. That's all I could handle. Hubby had a bit of grilled lamb as  well.

The only non-meat dish we had was an enormous chunk of bread and a pastry that I thought was an enormous goldfish, but was a actually supposed to be shaped like Romania. It tasted sort of like a semisweet glazed donut with lemon zest. Yum.

You'd think that would be enough, but no. About four hours after we left the festival we ended up eating tacos. Unless the salsa and the onion and cilantro toppings count as salad, it was a meat and tortillas feast. I enjoyed every minute. I feel incredible heavy and sleepy (shocker), but I don't care. It was good!

Tomorrow we have a couple of festive and naughty things to attend as well, so I suspect this coming week I'll be living on juice and attempting to digest the weekend.

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Guest post by Adolfo Nicolai 

I dreamed of a beautiful house
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In it lived a family, my family.

And the laughter joined the whispers
Every morning.

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Guest post by Adolfo Nicolai

There is a silent destination
In the order that is life,
Where all of your frustrations
Flow from all too human strife.
Where plans last till the ink dries,
Yet always end the same.
Where years on years of hard work
Become the never ending game.
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When men and mice on wheels aboard
On good 'ol Chronous' wheel?