thought I knew poppy seeds. But then I traveled to Hungary. At a tiny bakery in a subway station deep below Budapest, a small flaky pastry swaddling a generous expanse of thick, dark filling caught my eye. The sign read mákos retes, Hungarian for poppy-seed strudel, but the center looked so rich and lush, I would have sworn it was chocolate. Curious, I bought a piece. The filling, made of just the seeds ground
