They first had to explain to me what a buli is. It's an outing for the whole office, with families, somewhere outdoors. Szoftex has rented a whole place somewhere in the hills. It took two days to get the supplies - a visit to the company's vintner, on the slope of the southside hill, to get 30l of his better red wine (not the best, of course). Then a fax to the local meat packing kombinat (pretty much the same as the one where dad used to work, even their meat cans and salamis were done by same recipes and tasted the same - bot they and the local dairy had shops at the east exit, where we'd shop before traveling home, so I knew what they made) asking for a recipe for pörkölt („simmered“). It came via another fax, written by hand on a page from a school notebook. It required several kinds of meat... not quite meat, it was mostly various knuckles, knees and other tendon rich parts. Which was then bought and made ready.
The stuff was simmering for about four hours, in a big kettle over a medium sized fire. No water added, just the meat simmering in its own juices. Then another hour when potatoes and spices were added, mostly onions and red paprika. The fragrance of cooking covered the whole area.
The kids were playing around, wives gossipped, all adults were drinking. Wine. Lots of wine. Even Šerci, with beer themed nickname, took to wine. We knew his new wife already, they even had a kid and visited his mother, our landlady, often, so she didn't come as much of a surprise. She was a blonde, decent looking but no waist, just straight and strong. Meanwhile we learned why was that - she was the sports type, played football, and was an important player in the local female team.
By the time the pörkölt was ready, we were already abuzz with wine. And we were quite hungry, whatever snacks there were didn't quite get eaten, we all saved gut space for the pörkölt. And it was great, just as it should be, with all the collagen in the tendons making it a bit sticky, and the tendons giving it rich taste. I had to go wash my beard, because there's no way you can get the good parts off the bones without getting a bit messy.
We kept on until the wee hours. There was enough of it left for dinner, and the mountain air (well, some mountains they are, there's nothing taller than 40m in the area) made our appetite return fast, so we hit the plates again. And drank more.
Somewhere around midnight I was sitting with Mihály, discussing who knows what, perhaps in serbian, when we heard some altercation on the other side of the door. Šerci and his wife had a fight. Just when Mihály was saying „really, who needs that... that's so improper“, we heard a hard slap and a body falling. He was immediately pissed off, got up, ready to fire the guy on the spot, or at least to berate him in strongest terms. Opened the door, came back calm within a minute. Nope, it wasn't Šerci knocking out his wife. She knocked him out.
The only other thing I remember is that my appetites for the day were larger than the capacity of my stomach, and I had to get up to puke. All red, and I couldn't decide whether it was the wine or paprika.
In the morning we didn't buzz around much, many had to drive back, and we ran out of wine and food anyway. I think we were back in Gemenc for breakfast.
On twentieth, unosc.prg: „combination filter+grupni+nijeunet() would create a preview where you'd always see the first record of the document, filter would apply to second and later record of the document. Fixed.“ No clue what filtering I could have there.