National Geographic : 1938 Jan
THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE IN MOHACS A LOAF OF BREAD I Photograph by John Patric :S A LOAD As it is kneaded in a wooden tray, straw burns long in a thick, beehive-shaped oven. After the fire is raked away, the wheat loaf is baked so slowly that its thick crust must be swabbed with water as it cools to keep it soft enough to cut. Heavy, crumbly, the color of American rye bread, it will keep a week or two. Far, far out on the puszta, its site com- from afar, on the way manding the horizon and little else, Kecs- wagons, had taken cl kemet has planted a grove of long-leaf dawn (page 31). pines, and in it built an inn. Hoofbeats Each had paid toll tc were silent on the sandy road as we turned ket fees, in addition, w into the woods. Somewhere a gypsy's cents for those who lugE melancholy violin sang sadly of lost love; "Geese aren't selling harness clips tinkled a merry overtone, as woman standing beside if a lady laughed to hear. taining four fowls so c There was a little clearing in the pine sure she had washed tl woods; leaves lay deep and brown around live four hours away. a clump of mixed young hardwoods within wheelbarrow costs six it. Some had been raked aside. A char- don't sell, I'll take the coal fire was glowing beneath our dinner, replied philosophically Four girls of Kecskemet knelt in the sand. Slowly, as if to the gypsy's mournful music, they turned 25 roasting chick ens (Plate X). We dined in the inn. Gallons of chicken soup buoyed cornmeal dumplings, firm and tender. Plates were heaped with hot sauerkraut, white and red. Tokay wine-it came first from Tokaj, in Hungary flowed like a topaz torrent that would run forever. Until yellow lamplight time we danced the csardas with the girls who had cooked and served our din ner. "GEESE AREN'T SELLING TODAY" We returned to Kecskemet that night. Next morning the cen tral square had become a market place. Peasants all night in jogging loice places before enter town. Mar 'ere as low as three ged their wares. today," said an old a wheelbarrow con :reamy white I was hem (page 50). "I Market space for my cents. If my geese m home again," she to my questions.