Guest Sausage: Sausage on the move

Florian writes of our tour of the British conference circuit--and restaurants--across the UK:

"The last two weeks were occupied by three conferences in England—one in Oxford, one in Bristol, one in London—and coincidence had it that A and I went to all three of them together. Inevitably, sausages accompanied our journeys and since A's camera was out of reach, I employed the camera of my very old mobile phone to photograph some of our meaty friends. Most of the photos didn't come to anything, courtesy of my phone's poor camera, and even the two here shown have pretty grainy pixels. But, hey, when a sausage passes your way, you cannot allow technical vicissitudes to stand in your way. Both images were made in Oxford, and yet highlight the sausages cosmopolitanism, with one picture depicting a selection of the great many varieties of English sausages in a butcher's display in Oxford market, while the other is an Italian dish of orecchiette salsiccia e broccoli, containing fried pieces of spicy salsiccia mantovana. I can assure you the consumption of the dish was sweetened with lots of 'house red'. Then again, can one possibly sweeten the delight of eating sausages?"

Dancing on the Edge of a Volcano

In the last months, I keep learning how challenging history can be. Everyday I'm confronted by missing documents and stories told to me that (otherwise) remain untold. As I write, I repeatedly try and understand how difficult it can be to weave everything together. But my work as a historian is hardly the history that has proven the most challenging in the past 14 days.

I've been traveling and experiencing post-Smoleńsk Polish history abroad -- at embassies, chatting with Poles abroad, and through newsmedia. How to wrap my mind around my own absence from the streets of Warsaw as Poland comes to terms with the vulnerable void left by the crash? Debates about Wawel, the political arena's future, and culpability skirt around the issue. For me, it's the memorials placed outside people's places of work that convey the human loss many are experiencing.

Expect colorful sausage coverage from me in the next days -- to catch up. But in the meantime, I'll let this British pub grub absurdly symbolize my confusion.

Guests' Sausage: Americans from Paris in Warsaw!

On a recent visit to Warsaw, Louis and Maggie reveled in the culinary delights of Poland and its Eastern European brethren. They were so satisfied by and grateful for A's restaurant recommendations that they asked permission to share their excellent experience with all of A's blog readers, just in case any of them found themselves in Warsaw without A around. Thus was this guest post born.

Just around the corner from A's apartment, on Plac Konstytucji, there's a restaurant called U Szwejka. According to A, this means At Švejk's. But it also reminded us of Meredith, whose last name is eerily similar, and whom we missed dearly during our unofficial music-grad-students-abroad-on-fellowship-weekend-frolic-in-Warsaw. Anyway, back to the restaurant.

A can tell you who the restaurant's mascot is, and whether he has anything to do with the neon smoke-stack and animated puffs advertising the restaurant. In any case, the façade alone tells you that this is a spirited, "folksy" restaurant. It's kind of like the Polish Applebee's.

Except the ambiance is way, way more spirited (and of course more Polish). While we waited for our food, we enjoyed not one but two separate concerts by roving musicians.

Finally, the main event: the food. Portions were generous - no, make that ginormous. With four different kinds of sausage and lots of accoutrements, a single appetizer was more than enough for the three of us.

The main platters were almost insurmountably large and oh-so-heartily delicious. From top-to-bottom, some before and after shots of Louis' schnitzel, A's ribs, and Maggie's goulash:

We tried really, really hard to finish all the food, we swear. Thanks, U Szwejka, for filling our bellies with deliciousness and filling our spirits with joy!