Most Eastern European households have an Easter tradition of sweet eggy bread. This is my family's — an enormous braided loaf, scented with nutmeg and lemon, peppered with almonds and plump golden raisins. It originated on my maternal grandfather's Czech side of the family tree, and all my life I've known it as houska. As in, "Uncle Ed is doing the houska this Easter." Or, "I burned the top of the houska." "Tell me again, who's bringing the houska?" It's a treasured Easter treat, the taste and scent of it mixed with holiday memories.
But you know what? My family has it all wrong. This bread isn't houska at all. We've been using the wrong name for at least 70 years. Does it matter?