Today, we made one of our semiannual trips to Otto's Hungarian Deli in Burbank. For whatever reason, we do not go to this place as often as we should, and inevitably, we end up spending far more than we probably should, but it is virtually unavoidable. Otto is such a gentle and kind old bacsi (a nickname, meaning "uncle," but commonly applied to any old man one runs across in Hungary), that I almost feel guilty saying, "no," when he offers me something. Take today, for instance, as we stood at the counter, our basket overflowing with packages of spaetzle, fresh-made sausages, candy (for Ben), little cookies (for Josh and Joseph), some books, and some jars of various yummy things (sunflower honey, rose petal preserves, paprika creme); there we were waiting for our sandwiches to be made (they make delicious sandwiches there), when Otto offered us some sweet baked goods. "I have some poppy rolls, or some walnut rolls, or a delicious layered cake," he said, and as he named the cake a golden glint came to his eye, and it was as though he was naming his most prized possession; I couldn't resist (and I'm thankful I didn't).
It is wonderful to see other visitors to Otto's. There are never that many when we are there, but they fall into three categories (I sort of span two of the categories myself): first are those who are completely oblivious to the wonders that Otto's holds and who simply want a soda or a candy bar; second, are the various Hungarians who live in the community and chat with Otto in Hungarian; third, are the awestruck lovers of all things Hungarian. I fall under the last two categories; obviously not Hungarian, but able to speak the language, and continually like a little child in a playground. We met one of the third category today, apparently someone who had recently visited Hungary and brought home a love of the place. He was there with his son to acquire ingredients for a Hungarian dish his wife was making. He was having a grand old time talking to Otto, enjoying tales of Otto's homeland, and getting instructions to improve the Hungarian cooking that he and his wife were experimenting with.
Today was the first time I really talked to Otto in any depth and found out more about him and where he comes from. I learned that there is a very sizable community (some 100,000) of Hungarians in the area, and that they have a festival in Torrance on the first Sunday of August. I learned that he has a nice "Americanized" house near Lake Balaton in Hungary, and that he goes back every year and hosts a huge party there for all his family and friends. He plays the accordian, and he showed us his brand new accordian, one that cannot be bought in the states, yet. He made sure that all of his children learned to play musical instruments, and named a wide variety when I asked what they played. He continuously complimented me on our beautiful children, and gave them (and us) candy. When I mentioned that we'd be sure to purchase a calendar for next year when we visited next time, he gave us a free calendar, one filled with beautiful photos of cities across Hungary. I told him that I had lived in Hungary, when he asked if I had ever been there. He asked where I lived, and told me that he had a relative living in one of the cities that I had lived in. He showed us videos of his last party at the Balaton, with him playing the accordian, and videos of the countryside in Western Hungary. We learned that his store is frequently rented out by the surrounding studios (Disney, Universal, etc.) to be used in films, and that he makes good money from that. Ben was fascinated by a photo of Otto with "Patchy the Pirate," a character from Spongebob Squarepants that is played by the voice of Spongebob.
The boys had a wonderful time there, and I think they probably liked Otto as much as he liked them. Joshua has taken to calling all of Burbank "Otto's." I'm glad they enjoyed it, as both Amy and I certainly did. As we left with our box full of Hungarian goodies, bought at a pretty penny, and our hearts full of good feelings at having made a new friend, we both agreed that we need to visit more often, if only to spread the expense out over twelve easy payments, but more to foster a friendship with an accordian-playing bacsi from Hungary.
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