I might have mentioned in a previous column that I loooove to snoop around at dollar stores. I usually find some interesting food goodie (or a bunch of them) to take home at a bargain price. Often these items are overstocks; some may be discontinued products; others are items from out-of-region stores.

Sometimes far out of region. I've sampled soups from Canada, canned fruits from Singapore and Malaysia, and ketchup labeled in Arabic. It's all good, and a mini-adventure to another land every time I open a can or pull out a bottle. Maybe you'll be inspired by this story to try something unfamiliar from the dollar store, too.

But keep this in mind: Just as with actual travel, sometimes language difficulties will force you to improvise to solve problems.

During one dollar-store expedition, I spotted some seasoning packets, similar to those you might see from Knorr or Lawry's, from a Polish company called Kawis. Because my husband is of Polish descent, I thought they might provide a familiar kitchen touch for him and be a fun food adventure for both of us.

Each packet had a little English label describing it -- for chicken or beef, etc. The cooking instructions were all in Polish, but we had a Polish-English dictionary at home. I should be able to figure this out, I thought.

Remember, they were only $1 each.

I bought half a dozen, tucked them into the pantry, and forgot about them until cooler weather rolled around and I was ready to turn the oven on.

Rummaging through my kitchen supplies, I found the seasoning packets. One had a label that read "Seasoning for Chicken/Old Polish," and chicken was on the night's menu. Perfect. I got out the Polish dictionary.

First, I puzzled out the ingredients of the seasoning mix: salt, garlic, onion ("bulb"), MSG, marjoram, caraway, oregano, lemon acid … that's probably citric acid … hmm, substancja smak … "substance savory"? Must mean flavorings. The dictionary came up empty on several other words. Imbir, anyone? Oh well; I probably didn't really need to know anyway.

Next was a short phrase with the numeral "4" in it; I guessed that was the number of servings. What looked like a recipe on the package back read "Kurczak Duszony," which translated to "chicken strangled (suffocated)." I hoped that might mean "smothered" instead. ("Guess what's for dinner, dear! Your favorite! Strangled chicken!")

I pressed on. Chicken, 600 grams. No metric scale around, but that was probably what I had on hand, about a couple of pounds of pieces. Next, oil or butter. And "1 szklanka jogurtu naturalnego." That would be yogurt.

Then the directions. Polish nouns were easy compared with the verbs. I chose whatever was the closest and most logical equivalent from the dictionary. After about 20 minutes, I had pieced together these instructions:

"Put chicken in yogurt mixed with spices. Set aside for 1 to 2 hours on ice. In a pot, dissolve butter and transfer chicken and sauce. Cover over for 15 minutes.

"Press remove chicken and boil small fire partly evaporate sauce. Prepare shrink. Best tasty with rice and stewed carrots and pears."

There were a lot more words on the packet, but I figured I already had enough. I was ready to cook that chicken "Old Polish" style.

Except for one slight hitch: I didn't have any jogurtu naturalnego -- and after all that time laboring over the translation, it was too late to hit the supermarket.

Sometimes, a traveler just has to adjust expectations and go with the flow.

If the mix would season the yogurt, it would also season the chicken. I arranged the chicken pieces in the pan, sprinkled the seasoning mix over it, covered the pan, put it in the oven at 350 degrees, and hoped for the best. After about an hour, I took the pan out. The chicken smelled great and tasted fine. My husband loved it.

We agreed it was smak.

Got a food question? Missing a recipe? Write to North County Times staff writer Laura Groch at Bites and Pieces, North County Times, 207 E. Pennsylvania Ave., Escondido, CA 92025 or e-mail to bites@nctimes.com.