Please, give me a real kolacky.

My biggest disappointment. In New Prague. A small town. Settled by Czech immigrants. The pastry that passes locally as kolacky. Really isn’t kolacky. It’s fake. At best, a Swedish style version. A shame. I was brought up on real Czech kolacky. Thick dough. Open-faced kolacky. With thick jam filling. Prune. Apricot. Poppyseed. All kinds of flavors. To suit the palates of every self-respecting Czech. You get real kolacky in Chicago. But not in New Prague. This tiny Minnesota hamlet. Some of the locals don’t even pronounce ‘Prague’ in the correct manner. It’s been Americanized. Furthermore, the surname Dvorak is mispronounced. Doesn’t sound Czech enough. But the biggest crime of all. It’s the New Prague kolacky. Far too light. Too fluffy. With scant interior jam. And Mary Plocher, she of German descent and the proprietor at Humble Pie Gift shop on Main Street, knows it.  She’s embarrassed. For New Prague. She hands out a printed recipe. For a proper-made sumptuous open-faced kolacky. If necessary, I’ll take direct action. I’ll bake a proper kolacky. It’s the least I can do. In honor of the heritage on my mother’s side of the family. –Jim Broede