In Romania, the official census reports over 80% of citizens indicate they are members of the Romanian Orthodox Church. Anecdotally, I can attest that most of those have never read the Bible they claim to believe in and, when pressed, have little idea of what the Bible actually says.
Yet, there is a deep christian history in Romania, including other denominations largely hailing from the Transylvania region. There you’ll find a noticeable representation Roman Catholicism with parishoners of mixed ethnicity under an ethnic-Hungarian majority.
Dig deep enough and you’ll find that the intriguing Universalist Unitarian church has its’ origins in Transylvania when people in the region were among the first to throw off the shackles of unenlightened dogma which has been a typical feature of Catholic and Orthodox churches.
These days, the country of Romania has no official national religion prescribed although the relationship between church and state remains a convoluted tangle of influence and occasional corruption.
Romania officially recognizes 16 religions who are are, thus, granted the privilege to preach. An interesting linguistic factoid is that the official legal term for each religion is “cult.”
As much as the consititution appears a hodge-podge, I’d say someone definitely got that one correct.
Ah, but can’t we all get along? Da!
Check your crosses, stars, and cresents at the door. It’s the modern world and our beliefs can be kept close to our bossom while opening ourselves to the cultural aspects that make Paşte a special experience in Romania’s quiver of heritage. Sure to pierce the heart of even the hardest atheist.
What you really need to understand is that the week of Easter in Romania is best experienced with your tongue. The traditional cuisine during the religious holiday includes some downright tasty and delectable treasures you won’t find anywhere else.
Prepare yourself for an excursion into the best of Romania’s culinary offerings. It’s not all kebabs, my pet. Nossir! There are delicious desserts afoot, lurking around the local shops of your friendly neighborhood bakery just waiting for discovery by the cunning and patient foreigner.
I’m talking about pasca and cozonac, my American friends.
Oh, the glory! Walking to the nearby pastiserie on Ferentari, next to the closest kebab stand. It’s a closely held family store which serves the neighborhood with freshly baked pasteries. And during the holy week, you can snag yourself some plain-paper wrapped packages of cozonac and pasca.
Holding it in your hands, the warmth wafts into your skin and immediately endears itself to you. But then the scent broaches your nasal passages so that you immediately fall into a deep love and are barely able to contain yourself from ripping open the paper and burning your hand just to get a hunk of the hot love flirting with your senses.
You’ll have to find the strength to discipline yourself long enough for the journey home, where you can unwrap the aromatic spectacle which is Romanian cozonac — a sweet bread most often found around holidays. The dark brown loaf is continues tantalizing you with it’s physical beauty.
Yet you know inside lurks the amazing taste your nose is trying to warn you about.
A sweet bread seemingly from the very depth of Romanian history itself. Swirling with chocolate goodness, packed with local walnuts from area farms, replete with raisins as you seen grown in the yards of so many homes, and then insiduously trapping you with the bait of turkish delight.
Mesmerizing, is it not? Aye, but there are dangers yet remaining, my friends. Is it possible that Romania could offer two tempting treats to coincide with its’ ostensibly religious observations? You better believe it, bucko.
Waiting for the oven-fresh batch of cozonac took about 30 minutes, but I had to suffer the pain of refusing to eat it immediately so that I could wait another hour to obtain pasca from the very busy bakery of my new home.
Was it worth the effort? You tell me!
Say it with me, now: pah-skah. Pasca. Just look at it. Find a napkin to wipe your chin, because I knoew you’re drooling. This is the Romanian version of cheesecake, boys and girls.
Take a sweet cake recipe, then hollow out a bowl. Fill that with a mixture of telemea cheese, sugar, and a handful of raisins. Cover with a decorative batter-top. Bake and then sprinkle with coconut shavings.
It is my considerably studied opinion that this delicacy is best tasted hot. And then room temperature. And then cold. You must try the entire spectrum so the rainbow of flavors can run the gamut of your taste buds.
There is not anything on this planet like pasca.
So, do yourself a favor and find a knife. Slice yourself from freshly baked cozonoc, so you might revel in its’ cocoa-nutty goodness and chew upon its’ rahat innards, while being sure to include a nice slice of Romanian pasca cheesecake.
No words can describe it. Just dig in and chow down.
Back in America, you’re all hunting Easter eggs with little kids. I admit, it’s a fun pastime. A cute affair worthy of Kodak moments. But what about the food? Oh, we have marshmallow chicks, jelly beans, Cadbury eggs, and other goodies.
Yet, I’m here to tell you nothing compares to hot, fresh cozonac and pasca.
One must experience it for oneself to know the truth of the words I speak. Maybe it’s holy spirit filling me, but I call upon you to gaze on the greatness of this Romanian fare. Ye shall not know paradise until ye hath tasted of cozonac şi pasca cand it’s fresh.
Maybe you’re persistent. Maybe you’ll ask me about the American chocolate rabbits. Chocolate coins. Chocolate this. Chocolate that. Chocolate heresy.
Back Stateside, there was a tempest in a teapot when a well-known artist specializing in food creations decided to create a tribute to Jesus using only chocolate as the basis for his homage. The most radical elements of christianity immediately leashed out in a vindictive campaign to eradicate any such art.
Why? Well, some theorize the objection is that chocolate is dark brown in color. But, even though the West tends to portray Jesus as having been some kind of blonde-haired, blue-eyes eurocentric member of the master race, most intelligent people realize that Christ was a semite who most likely would have had dark, if not curly, hair and brown skin.
It could be that an objection was the Messiah was portrayed naked. Yes, in the nude. The son of God? Ah, but is there really shame to be had in nakedness? Does not the Bible say that man was made in the image of God? Was not Jesus embodied as a man? And if God therefore must have a penis, would it then be a sin to demonstrate that clearly Christ had one as well?
They’re just questions. No need to be a reactionary animal about it.
No one should have felt compelled to make death threats to the artist. It’s just a sculpture. Not a crime. It’s just a man. Not sacrilege. It’s just God’s image. Not heresy. It’s only a sex organ. A penis.
Frankly, considering the lack of theological study on the factual details of the matter, I think the artist went out of his way to be generous.
