An obwarzanek is a big ‘ol pretzel native to Kraków but found all over the country, particularly at Kraków’s main bus and train station, where there’s about one obwarzanek stand for every five passengers. Like most baked goods, they’re supposedly freshest in the morning. I don’t do mornings, so I had to make do with slightly stale afternoon specimens. Even so, you can’t go wrong with a salty, poppy seed-covered soft pretzel. And they’re dirt cheap. I shopped around and found the going rate averaged 1.7 złoty ($0.46) (14 July 2018).

Zapiekanki are Poland’s street food of choice. They’re basically piles of gooey pizza-type toppings served on half a piece of French bread. This one is the most expensive (10 złoty; $2.70), largest, topping-stacked I could find among the 8 or so stalls selling them in zapiekanki central, Kraków’s humble Plac Nowy. This one’s piled high with sliced sausages, tomatoes, mayonnaise, corn, green onions, and God knows what else. Delicious! And messy. I estimate about 10% of this one ended up on the street or on my shoes, where ravenous pigeons devoured it, vulture-style. Except the tomatoes. Pigeons don’t seem to like tomatoes (13 July 2018).

This milk bar sits on a pedestrian street not far from Poznań’s main square, and it has a handful of wobbly tables out on the sidewalk (20 July 2018).

A plate of pierogi and a soft drink for 9 złoty ($2.43). And the outdoor seats come with some of Poznań’s characteristic ambience: An unconscious drunk guy sleeping one (or several, more likely) off (20 July 2018).

A good Polish żurek soup is slightly to seriously thick, has a hint of sourdough-style sour tanginess, and has big chunks of things — hard-boiled egg halves, slices of kielbasa, etc. — floating in it. Oh, and unlike in some countries (I’m talking about you Portugal), the bread is free. As it should be (17 July 2018).

There’s considerable overlap between the Polish and Russian culinary traditions. Cold or hot (this example is the latter), the Poles call beet soup barszcz. You probably know it by its equally vowel-lacking Russian name, borscht. I tried it. Nope. Still don’t like beets (21 July 2018).

If you’re looking for the pinnacle of soup in Poland, a rustic place like this should be your first stop, although even your main square tourist-trap café might serve it up, too. I’m talking about… (14 July 2018)

…żurek served inside a hollowed-out globular loaf of bread. It’s like two meals in one. You get a thick, hearty soup, almost a stew, and by the time you’ve slurped it all down, your bowl is all saturated. And then you (well I do, anyway) eat the soup-flavored bowl (14 July 2018).

If you’re in the mood for a side dish, I recommend buckwheat groats. They take on the flavor of whatever sauce they’re served with and provide a different, chewier tactile sensation than rice or potatoes (15 July 2018).

As a main course or a side, Polish dumplings, or pierogi, are delicious and cheap. The most traditionally Polish are, interestingly enough, labeled “Russian pierogi” on menus and are usually filled with potato, sour cream or cottage cheese, and garlic. But I prefer more inventive fillings, of which there are many. Generally minced pork and mushrooms work well, and you can order fruit-filled ones such as these as a dessert. Disclaimer: Despite looking just like Chinese dumplings (水餃), they’re not quite as delicious as their Chinese cousins with their soy sauce and vinegar dipping sauces… mmm. Chinese food is still the best (11 July 2018).

Polish sausage — kielbasa, of course — is amazing. And this black kielbasa here, covered with french fried onions and served with horseradish and mustard, is the best kielbasa I’ve ever eaten in my entire life (12 July 2018).

There’s also plenty of overlap between Polish and Jewish cooking. Potato pancakes (or latkes or placki) are a bit of a dice roll. It all depends how the potatoes are fried. This pair was greasy, savory, and delicious, but sometimes they’re bland. If so, the sour cream they’re served with doesn’t save them (15 July 2018).

Gołąbki are perhaps the most delicious Polish dish you’ve never heard of and can’t pronounce. They’re rolls of boiled cabbage leaves filled with ground beef, onion, and rice, and served here in a tomato sauce. Scrumptious! (21 July 2018).

Bigos is another delicious Polish food discovery for me. As with żurek, it’s best served in a bread bowl. It’s a very thick stew of sauerkraut, cabbage, minced meat, and who knows what else, simmered slowly for days. Never a side; always a main (16 July 2018).

Judging from what other, presumably local, diners were eating around me, breaded pork cutlets like these seem to be the most popular dish in Poland. This one was a good piece of meat, not too fatty, without too many bones. It was a poor choice right after I had dental work done, though (17 July 2018).

Toward the end of my stay in Poland, I worked up the courage to try golanka, or pig’s knuckle. The meat was incredibly juicy and fell right off the bone. Unfortunately so did an equal amount of fat (24 July 2018).

…if you’re in Poznań, anyway, the St. Martin’s croissant. Here I’m lined up with the other tourists at the bakery (24 July 2018).

Imagine that a French croissant worked out and injected itself with cinnamon roll steroids and got HUGE and sweet and gooey on top. That’s a St. Martin’s croissant for you. Eat one of these followed by żurek in a bread bowl and a pig’s knuckle with sides, and you will find yourself painfully, post-Thanksgiving-dinner-level full to overflowing. Even if you are me (24 July 2018).

…if you’re looking for something non-alcoholic (you’re not a Pole! Ba-dum-bum!), I recommend kvass. Kvass is generally Slavic but not unique to Poland; I first read about it in my Croatia travel guide. It’s a translucent brown, lightly carbonated soft drink made from bread. It’s sort of like flat cream soda, but you really can taste dark, well-done bread when you drink it. Think toast-flavored cola and you’re not far off (15 July 2018).

…until I walked into one of the ubiquitous Żabka convenience stores to peruse its liquor aisles, which take up half the store. Be careful to dodge the drunks staggering in or out with their garbage bags partially filled with liquor bottles. They are not in a condition to dodge you. Trust me (20 July 2018).

I emerged with these bad boys. The one on the right, to be fair, is not vodka. It’s a quince-flavored vodka-based liquor that, at a modest 60 proof, goes down nice and smooth. But on the left? That’s Poland’s #1 export (expats jokingly say wives are #2), Żubrówka “bison grass” vodka. (Each bottle is “seasoned” with a blade of grass from the Białowieża Forest in eastern Poland, where European bison roam.) It does not taste like nail polish remover. It’s as potent as you’d expect (80 proof), but somehow it goes down smooth enough to be drinkable straight up. I thought I detected a hint of sweetness to it. It’s made me into at least a partial vodka convert. Bottoms up! (13 July 2018).