goulash

In days of old, where tales unfold,
A dish was born, a story told,
From Hungary’s land, where stews are grand,
Came goulash, rich and spiced, so planned.
The herdsmen’s feast, with paprika’s grace,
In steaming pots, a hearty embrace,
From meadows wide to fireside’s gleam,
It danced through time, a savory dream.
Then came the Dutch with croquettes dear,
A golden crisp, a treat sincere,
With filling smooth and breadcrumb’s touch,
They turned the dish, refined it much.
The goulash joined this crispy quest,
A fusion twist, a flavor best,
At local tents where fries do reign,
Goulash kroket takes its claim.
With golden shell and hearty heart,
A blend of worlds, a work of art,
From Hungary’s pot to Dutch delight,
It shines in local tents each night.
So here’s to flavors, old and new,
To every bite, a taste so true,
From past to present, let’s rejoice,
In every crisp and savory choice.