One “Špánělský ptáček” the waitress said as she chucked the plate at me. What on earth, a Spanish bird?

We’re not near the Costa Brava, and there’s no chicken on the plate. This is beef stuffed with boiled egg, ham, and pickle. Learning Czech was going to be much harder than I thought. But it turns out Emperor Rudolf II, his Spanish mother, and the communists were to blame for the confusion.

I took my sister-in-law to lunch last week. I saw it atop the menu and didn’t even have to think.