I have a Czech friend named Jan. Jan invited me to a European-themed dinner. I'm not normally up for foreign foods – someday I'll tell you the story of my sister and the wasabi – but I really like central Europe, so I went.

First thing I find out is that it isn't Jan's group hosting the event; it's a deaf international group. Of around 40-50 people, I'm one of less than ten hearing folk, and I didn't even remember ASL for "thank you". Now I'm uncomfortable in addition to eating foreign food.

But then Jan and his Slovak friend Michael begin to talk about the Czech and Slovak Republics, and their cuisine. Hearty and filling? Check. Meaty? Check. Potato-macaroni-and-cheese – <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bryndzov%C3%A9_halu%C5%A1ky">with bacon</a>? Check. (Maybe I should be saying 'Czech'.)

Did they actually serve any of it? No. Pirohy were easy to recognize, and good. Other than that, if I thought I knew what it was, boy was I wrong. Potatoes in red sauce were chicken. Striped pumpernickel-and-wheat bread? Dessert pastry. Meatballs? Death.

I really thought they were meatballs, so I took a big bite. In actuality, they tasted like stuffing, possibly with garlic, and dryer than goddamn Mars. I nearly choked in the middle of Jan's presentation, with nothing but a quarter cup of soda to aid me, all that was allotted to any attendee.

Central Europe? Yeah, I'm going.