Yesterday as we drove down Main Street in the nearby town, the Cajun restaurant had a sandwich board on the sidewalk with the day’s specials.  The soup of the day was Hungarian Goulash.  I know that Goulash means soup or stew and that if you look in a dozen cookbooks, you will find a dozen different recipes, the internet is flush with variations.  I had not taken out anything to thaw for dinner and seeing that sign, my mind started pinging with desire, not to go to that restaurant, but to prepare a dish that my grandmother used to prepare for my Dad and his brother; my Dad prepared for my siblings and me; I prepared for my children; my daughter prepares for her family.  Our recipe never written down, is a simple stew of ground beef, onions, paprika, tomatoes (or catsup) and kidney beans (sometimes whatever beans are available).  Two of my children don’t like it.  I love it and so does my hubby.  He even created a mantra to remind me how he likes it: “Stew on rice, Goulash with rice, Chili no rice.”

On our way home, hauling our trailer with hubby’s motorcycle from it’s servicing, we stopped at the local grocery, purchased a package of ground beef and dinner was already planned and later enjoyed.  The amazing power of suggestion.

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