Jazyk, srdce, mozek, krev (Tongue, heart, brain, blood)

Tongue, heart, brain, blood, or A love letter to Moravian cuisine. I don’t wear chef’s rondon with my name embroidered on it, I don’t use cream whippers and I am not a fan of exclusive meals, overconfidence or tight underpants. 

Fortunately, there are many more things I honestly like. And those are the ones that are the subject of this book, which is a sincere tribute to the dishes I grew up on. Meat, tripe, wine, fruit brandy, nuts, herbs and ordinary bread are typical products of our country and the basis of my cuisine. I adore old-fashioned casserole cooking, animal fat, strong sauces and the smell of smoked meat. 

I would like to highlight the simple, cheap and often neglected ingredients that were once a common part of domestic menus. Wheat, hail, nettles, sloes, currants, snails, morels or beef fire fill me with more excitement than foie gras with pineapple or an eighteen-course menu cooked in a plastic condom, served on a slate and smoked with spectacular clouds of dry ice and liquid nitrogen.

The final chapter of the publication presents an alternative view of the history of Czech and Moravian gastronomy, and thus does not hesitate to insult all the “proper” Czechs, the famous apostles Cyril and Methodius, four decades of communism and its moronic TV series and gastronomic perversions.

The book has an open spine, ensuring that it lies perfectly flat on the table, which is a crucial issue in a cookbook. But it also belies the notorious approach to titles of this kind, produced on glossy paper, embossed in gold and containing a photograph of the chef on the cover. The main message is that even an ordinary cookbook can have distinct literary ambitions and be printed on beautiful natural materials.