“Hunky Turkey,” Ethnic pride, and Choice  (August 2015)

I first heard of “hunky turkey” about 20 years ago when colleagues told me about the long-established Hungarian neighborhood of Birmingham in east Toledo. Although the demographics were shifting and individuals with Hungarian heritage were moving away, churches and some shops remained as the cornerstone of the once thriving community that dated to the 1890s. “Hunky turkey” was a popular dish—bread topped with bacon drippings, chopped onion, sweet peppers, and tomato—but the name was considered derogatory, with references to poverty as well as to their outsider status as immigrants.

In 2015, however, the name and the dish were being featured at the Toledo Hungarian festival. Two church groups, one Lutheran and the other Catholic, offered a slice for $3.00, and the former prepared them outside where customers could watch as the bacon (fat back, more accurately) was deep fried and the bread toasted. It smelled wonderful, and I succumbed. Salt, pepper, and paprika were offered as spices, and the grease was part of the overall aesthetic. It was tasty, and other eaters definitely seemed to enjoy it. They also obviously enjoyed the chicken paprikash, cabbage rolls, noodles and cabbages and pastries that were offered by the Hungarian groups. Other vendors sold standard festival fare—fried potatoes, sausages, ice cream, even eggrolls.

The negative associations of the name no longer seem to be attached to hunky turkey. The customers who recognized it seemed to have positive memories, and a vendor even offered an updated version—the Hunky turkey dog! Perhaps most of the people are far enough removed from the days of discrimination and hardship. Or perhaps the idea that it is heritage makes the difference. After all, heritage to most people refers to the past. Individuals in the present can look back on that past with fondness and respect if they want to, but it no longer controls who they are and what opportunities they have—or what they can and cannot eat. Like other ethnicities, being Hungarian means having certain dishes in one’s repertoire of culinary possibilities, particularly at festive occasions. It doesn’t limit them, however, to just those foods. The fact that the dish is now a choice means that they can re-appropriate it, give it new meanings, and celebrate it—just as Mario Montano described Mexican Americans in Texas doing with some of their quintessential foods (menudo, fajitas). The idea of it being a choice, however, I think is crucial. Otherwise, it still speaks of limitations and restraints and being defined by one’s past. (And, given current tastes in food, it probably doesn’t hurt that the dish features bacon!)