I've decided that I have the best job ever. And I´m not just talking about the job I can´t write about (WinkWink) fabulous though it may be, but also about my intermediate gig, which involves making lunch for a film company here. Seriously, you should all quit your jobs and try to steal mine. Work isn't always so grand, for sure, but lately things have been working and it is great. Yes, there is a crazy lot of schlepping. And there are insufficient elevators in Europe, from what I have observed, which is all well and good and helps encourage us to move about and save energy and whatnot, except when you are carrying lunch for fifty and you are prone to back pain. My back along with other bits of me are in fairly serious pain. I spend too much time in my (job-provided!) car these days as the studio is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay on the other side of Berlin (good for listening to NPR pre-during-and post-election coverage, though)...there is way too much construction everywhere so I am eternally waiting in traffic or trying to find a parking place within decent schlepping range of my apartment. And then there´s the stress of trying not to destroy a car that does not belong to me. Also the kitchen they have me working in is the worst kitchen ever. I know all chefs say that no matter where they work, but we are not talking small walk-in or no windows here. I am cooking in the office kitchenette....every morning when I get there, it is a disaster from the work-late crowd...there is no secure storage space and the mini fridge floods. I have only a weenie electric stove (the fact that New York is chock full of gas stoves is only one indication of its superiority over Berlin) and the oven is small by Euro standards. In these parts, ovens come with pans that you slide in like the racks in American ovens. This oven is missing the original pan and the replacement one doesn't quite fit, which means that if you put anything heavy on it (three kilos of Schinkenbraten (German cousin of pork roast) for example), it crashes to the bottom of the oven repeatedly, splashing it's nice bath of wine and broth EVERYWHERE. Also the workers, who are seriously really nice (with the exception of two people: one woman who complains about cooking smells and is then totally piggy at mealtime (she doesn´t seem to connect the extremely delicious smells with the opportunity for her to be piggy) and this other moron who upon discovering that I am American (and proud, especially this week!) proclaimed: "an American who can cook, impossible!" He then gave me a mini-lecture on how bad the food is in the US. I told him he could eat upstairs with the German cook (see comments below about German cooks), are constantly coming into the kitchen to make themselves a snack. I am definitely pro-snack, but the kitchen is the size of a closet.....
That was a lot of whining for what I have proclaimed to be the best job ever (at least currently...knock on wood), but really it is. I have no boss so nobody tells me what to do or acts like a crazy, senile Polish man (subtle reference to my editing job in New York). I get to cook anything I want...and because I don't make the same boring German things intermixed with the German interpretation of Asian food (as previously mentioned, in this line of thinking Asia is one big land where the people eat endless bowls of greasy noodles with bits of carrot and scary meat), they all think I´m remarkably creative. And because this particular crowd was subject to a German cook for a while and then abandoned by him, they are so greatful that I´m there.....they are constantly thanking me and telling me how delicious everything is. Also the German cook upstairs doesn´t ever make dessert. I ALWAYS make dessert (I am even more pro-dessert than pro-snack) and this makes everyone really love me. This is a (potential) big upside about personal cheffing: your clients are right there in your face. If things turn out well, everyone is happy and lets you know (unless they are like the Hollywoods and programmed to complain no matter what. alas.). On the other hand, when your Schinkenbraten is a little dry (I could try to blame the oven-from-hell, but....) you don't have the nice door between the kitchen and dining room or a waiter to act as buffers. Luckily the blue cheese potato salad and blue-ish sweet-and-sour cabbage (this was my blue-themed election day lunch....) were delicious and somewhat made up for the slightly over-cooked pork(barrel) and there were chocolate chip cookies to wash it all down (dessert makes ending on a positive note all the more easy). Someone else comes to clean the kitchen when I'm done(!) and I get to drive home(did I mention they pay for my gas, too!?) awash in all the thank yous and compliments. Remind me to revisit this post when/if the Hollywoods strike again.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Viele Grüße aus irgendwo in Berlin
Very sorry to have been missing in action for a little while there (though it was an excellent way to find out just who actually reads this thing). I have a new client ... and while so far (knock on wood) everything is going swimmingly, it has kept me far, far away from my computer. Anyway, here I am with a few days off and a little more sleep under my belt, so I thought I'd say hi (if anyone is still out there) and make a few random observations and updates.
1. 2. A few weeks back, before the chaos really set in, mein Mann and I along with BR and ihr Mann und Wunderkind made a spontaneous trip to Browdowin, a self-proclaimed Ökodorf or organic village (a source of much of Berlin's organic milk and such). While very cute there was not all that much Öko in evidence, but nonetheless it was a very refreshing change of scenes and we did snag (not personally) some fresh eggs from the hens living behind our rental apartment, which made for an excellent breakfast. There were also lots of neglected apple trees and while there (and around the restored ruins of the nearby Chorin monastery, we picked a serious lot of apples (considering that we had to carry them home sans vehicle). In one of my rare Martha Stewart moments, I turned the bulk of them into apple butter, which will make it's big debut next May at the Hochzeit. (This is supposed to be added incentive for US-based guests to make the trek (those of us planning destination weddings (sort-of) during the worst economic crisis since the Depression have to do all we can do...).
2. In the midst of the height of my chaos, Diana stopped by to sleep on our cold floor (some day we'll have a guest room or at least a human-length sofa), run the marathon really fast, run errands with me (these days I go to more grocery stores every day than some people visit in an entire month), eat Kaffee und Kuchen at the Literaturhaus cafe, and save mein Mann from an endless succession of Abendbrot.
3. It's not that I have spent more time in the kitchen than anyone, but I have put in a few hours in my day so I don't know how this has escaped me. In any case, I've just noticed that my apron when worn backwards (untied) is almost a cape (for some reason, I started swinging it behind me when refastening my belt after using the facilities). This is perhaps silly and random information, but I have found it very cheering to meet my superhero self (in the mirror) every so often during a long, stressful day (like I say, the job is *so far* very positive, but not without it's share of stress and sleepless nights). There's to be no photographic evidence of my current employment, so you will just have to imagine me making superhero poses in the bathroom mirror.
4. In other, more mundane news, I have successfully (I think) battled the German insurance system and won (knock on wood) so that I am now an official member of the public system (as opposed to the stupid and equally confusing private system). I know the US is falling apart at the seams, but note to Hopefully-Soon-President Obama: any system so complicated that the industry itself can't understand or keep up with the changes (I kid you not) is not the one we need to be copying. I've also paid my taxes twice now (does it not seem excessive that they make small business owners pay taxes every single month here?!) and officially registered (because I had to) that I am a heathen and have no official religion (and if I did, why would I want to tell the German government about it? German history doesn't define my personal/current experience here, but this is asking a little much for someone with my ancestry, no?). The religion people also wanted to know the address from the house where we lived when I was born. Germans actually keep this sort of information (and store it in funny Euro 2-hole binders) and can bring it forth when called upon. I'm sure I could find out if I tried, but seriously, I only lived there for 6 months ... not quite long enough to start keeping records. And what can this possibly have to do with my religion or lack thereof?
Anyway, it is back to the trenches for me, but I will try to visit with you again soon!
1. 2. A few weeks back, before the chaos really set in, mein Mann and I along with BR and ihr Mann und Wunderkind made a spontaneous trip to Browdowin, a self-proclaimed Ökodorf or organic village (a source of much of Berlin's organic milk and such). While very cute there was not all that much Öko in evidence, but nonetheless it was a very refreshing change of scenes and we did snag (not personally) some fresh eggs from the hens living behind our rental apartment, which made for an excellent breakfast. There were also lots of neglected apple trees and while there (and around the restored ruins of the nearby Chorin monastery, we picked a serious lot of apples (considering that we had to carry them home sans vehicle). In one of my rare Martha Stewart moments, I turned the bulk of them into apple butter, which will make it's big debut next May at the Hochzeit. (This is supposed to be added incentive for US-based guests to make the trek (those of us planning destination weddings (sort-of) during the worst economic crisis since the Depression have to do all we can do...).
2. In the midst of the height of my chaos, Diana stopped by to sleep on our cold floor (some day we'll have a guest room or at least a human-length sofa), run the marathon really fast, run errands with me (these days I go to more grocery stores every day than some people visit in an entire month), eat Kaffee und Kuchen at the Literaturhaus cafe, and save mein Mann from an endless succession of Abendbrot.
3. It's not that I have spent more time in the kitchen than anyone, but I have put in a few hours in my day so I don't know how this has escaped me. In any case, I've just noticed that my apron when worn backwards (untied) is almost a cape (for some reason, I started swinging it behind me when refastening my belt after using the facilities). This is perhaps silly and random information, but I have found it very cheering to meet my superhero self (in the mirror) every so often during a long, stressful day (like I say, the job is *so far* very positive, but not without it's share of stress and sleepless nights). There's to be no photographic evidence of my current employment, so you will just have to imagine me making superhero poses in the bathroom mirror.
4. In other, more mundane news, I have successfully (I think) battled the German insurance system and won (knock on wood) so that I am now an official member of the public system (as opposed to the stupid and equally confusing private system). I know the US is falling apart at the seams, but note to Hopefully-Soon-President Obama: any system so complicated that the industry itself can't understand or keep up with the changes (I kid you not) is not the one we need to be copying. I've also paid my taxes twice now (does it not seem excessive that they make small business owners pay taxes every single month here?!) and officially registered (because I had to) that I am a heathen and have no official religion (and if I did, why would I want to tell the German government about it? German history doesn't define my personal/current experience here, but this is asking a little much for someone with my ancestry, no?). The religion people also wanted to know the address from the house where we lived when I was born. Germans actually keep this sort of information (and store it in funny Euro 2-hole binders) and can bring it forth when called upon. I'm sure I could find out if I tried, but seriously, I only lived there for 6 months ... not quite long enough to start keeping records. And what can this possibly have to do with my religion or lack thereof?
Anyway, it is back to the trenches for me, but I will try to visit with you again soon!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Zweijähriges Früstrück
It has been a while and the combination of technical difficulties (spilled water on my keyboard as is my way), lack of camera (mein Mann's camera specializes in blur), a couple failed summer adventures, and a bit of work-related stress are my medley of excuses. I bring you now just a few images. Heart-shaped Egg-in-a-Hole for an anniversary breakfast (it being a well-known fact that eggs taste better in holes and especially when the hole is heart shaped). And, one of my favorite sites in Berlin: the grillwalker. These guys roam the city selling Bratwurst cooked on portable grills that they wear around their waist. It seems risky in multiple ways...wearing fire for one., but I am nonetheless always amused when I see them....
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Die Ukraine: zufallsbedingt
A week in the Ukraine is possibly not everyone's idea of a dream vacation (possibly not even mine). A trip to the Ukraine is good for making you really happy to be back in Berlin. That said, there were many highlights (mixed in with a few dark moments that in hindsight are actually rather amusing).
Kiev is particularly lovely at dawn/dusk, when its many, many, many golden-domed churches glow in the setting/rising sunlight. Both Kiev and Odessa (we took the night train down) have some remarkable architecture. It's often falling apart, but still makes for some good urban wandering. Kiev is home to the world's deepest subway station (sidenote: the subway (and train) stations have amazing chandeliers, mosaics, etc. and they play loud patriotic music in them: really odd and hysterical): it takes 4.5 minutes to get above ground from the station. And for those of you who rate a vacation based on how tan the vacationer is at the end, well....Ukraine isn't quite the Caribbean, but Kiev has (very polluted) river beaches (we ate shish kebob, drank vodka, and listened to synchronized Russian pop music) and Odessa has ... the (less polluted) Black Sea (if you get off the night train before 6 AM like we did, you can have a picnic breakfast on the beach and watch the older crowd swim, do calisthenics, and drink cheap beer out of soda bottles. Later, when the sun is fully risen, the microminiature bikini/speedo crowd takes over (less calisthenics, but same beer).
We found a few surprisingly good museums - my favorite was the Museum of Microminiature at the Kievo-Pecherska Lavra (monastery, where incidentally I was forced to wear my sweater on my head and my travel towel as a skirt over my jeans so that I might be allowed to see some mummified Russian Orthodox priests who are apparently still in denial that women have hair and legs. This is actually somewhat ironic considering that the going fashion among my Ukrainian contemporaries was in an altogether different spirit...you know, micro-miniskirts, more cleavage than shirt, and 4-inch stilettos (often the cheap, plastic-y kind ... never mind the sad condition of the sidewalks in Ukraine). Totally unclear what the Microminiature Museum has to do with Russian Orthodoxy, but it was full of very small objects that you had to view through a microscope, including a flea fitted with golden horseshoes, a guitar-like instrument with strings one-fortieth the width of a human hair, etc. It was highly amusing.
As I mentioned, there were some less good times...such as, for example returning to our apartment in Kiev to find that they had changed the locks. This turned out to be mostly a misunderstanding, but because of certain cultural differences, most Ukrainians come across as extremely rude and unhelpful to Americans (and their very friendly Mann), rarely smiling or thanking anyone and certainly not going out of their way to help two panicking foreigners. When you think you might have to sleep on the street, it's challenging to remember that this is a cultural difference and not a blatant, nation-wide attempt to make you crazy. Also, very few people speak English (not saying they should, it's Ukraine, not the US ... just that it makes traveling for people like me more challenging) and there is a serious lack of street signage...You may remember that I first took up with mein Mann (in part) because he was in the army and is good at reading maps and jumping out of planes. Ok, we didn't jump out of any planes, but he was able to decipher cyrillic after trying for about 2 minutes and he has a killer sense of direction. He is useful and I think I will keep him.
I'd like to say that I did as good a job navigating the food scene, but ... Ukraine is not one giant Veselka (Ukrainian diner near my first apartment in NYC). This is not to say that we didn't find any treats. I am a sucker for anything with poppyseed filling and we had some poppyseed buns that were way more filling than bun. This was, I must mention, the ONE time we found a bakery in all of our 7 days there and in all fairness, it wasn't really as bakery as they were not baking there, but they did have a wide selection of fresh baked goods. Other days, I had to wander around until I could find a kiosk where they sold usually stale bread products. Very odd. Anyway, I'm also a big fan of Ukrainian pickles - mostly cucumbers, eggplant, and green tomatoes. They are garlicky and I intend to buy some here at the Russian store on Torstrasse. We had excellent blini (with cabbage and prunes or with mushrooms from a little hut in a park in Kiev and less excellent, but more opulent blini with caviar for our farewell (to Ukraine) dinner). Some decent borscht, varenyky (the cherry-filled ones are my new favorites), and a cheesecake-like concoction. There were a few good picnics - one particularly delicious stuffed eggplant that I bought at the market in Odessa (the biggest open-air market in the former USSR, I might add) and an excellent smoked mackerel (from the same market). I guess it's just that the bad meals were so bad..a Georgian meal I will not bother to discuss and all the dry breakfasts, etc. Also, it's just sad to be this excited about German coffee.
Finally, if anyone is still reading, I will leave you with one of my favorite images from our trip: the vodka selection in the grocery store in Kiev:
Seriously, they have an entirely separate aisle for other kinds of alcohol.
Kiev is particularly lovely at dawn/dusk, when its many, many, many golden-domed churches glow in the setting/rising sunlight. Both Kiev and Odessa (we took the night train down) have some remarkable architecture. It's often falling apart, but still makes for some good urban wandering. Kiev is home to the world's deepest subway station (sidenote: the subway (and train) stations have amazing chandeliers, mosaics, etc. and they play loud patriotic music in them: really odd and hysterical): it takes 4.5 minutes to get above ground from the station. And for those of you who rate a vacation based on how tan the vacationer is at the end, well....Ukraine isn't quite the Caribbean, but Kiev has (very polluted) river beaches (we ate shish kebob, drank vodka, and listened to synchronized Russian pop music) and Odessa has ... the (less polluted) Black Sea (if you get off the night train before 6 AM like we did, you can have a picnic breakfast on the beach and watch the older crowd swim, do calisthenics, and drink cheap beer out of soda bottles. Later, when the sun is fully risen, the microminiature bikini/speedo crowd takes over (less calisthenics, but same beer). We found a few surprisingly good museums - my favorite was the Museum of Microminiature at the Kievo-Pecherska Lavra (monastery, where incidentally I was forced to wear my sweater on my head and my travel towel as a skirt over my jeans so that I might be allowed to see some mummified Russian Orthodox priests who are apparently still in denial that women have hair and legs. This is actually somewhat ironic considering that the going fashion among my Ukrainian contemporaries was in an altogether different spirit...you know, micro-miniskirts, more cleavage than shirt, and 4-inch stilettos (often the cheap, plastic-y kind ... never mind the sad condition of the sidewalks in Ukraine). Totally unclear what the Microminiature Museum has to do with Russian Orthodoxy, but it was full of very small objects that you had to view through a microscope, including a flea fitted with golden horseshoes, a guitar-like instrument with strings one-fortieth the width of a human hair, etc. It was highly amusing.
As I mentioned, there were some less good times...such as, for example returning to our apartment in Kiev to find that they had changed the locks. This turned out to be mostly a misunderstanding, but because of certain cultural differences, most Ukrainians come across as extremely rude and unhelpful to Americans (and their very friendly Mann), rarely smiling or thanking anyone and certainly not going out of their way to help two panicking foreigners. When you think you might have to sleep on the street, it's challenging to remember that this is a cultural difference and not a blatant, nation-wide attempt to make you crazy. Also, very few people speak English (not saying they should, it's Ukraine, not the US ... just that it makes traveling for people like me more challenging) and there is a serious lack of street signage...You may remember that I first took up with mein Mann (in part) because he was in the army and is good at reading maps and jumping out of planes. Ok, we didn't jump out of any planes, but he was able to decipher cyrillic after trying for about 2 minutes and he has a killer sense of direction. He is useful and I think I will keep him.
I'd like to say that I did as good a job navigating the food scene, but ... Ukraine is not one giant Veselka (Ukrainian diner near my first apartment in NYC). This is not to say that we didn't find any treats. I am a sucker for anything with poppyseed filling and we had some poppyseed buns that were way more filling than bun. This was, I must mention, the ONE time we found a bakery in all of our 7 days there and in all fairness, it wasn't really as bakery as they were not baking there, but they did have a wide selection of fresh baked goods. Other days, I had to wander around until I could find a kiosk where they sold usually stale bread products. Very odd. Anyway, I'm also a big fan of Ukrainian pickles - mostly cucumbers, eggplant, and green tomatoes. They are garlicky and I intend to buy some here at the Russian store on Torstrasse. We had excellent blini (with cabbage and prunes or with mushrooms from a little hut in a park in Kiev and less excellent, but more opulent blini with caviar for our farewell (to Ukraine) dinner). Some decent borscht, varenyky (the cherry-filled ones are my new favorites), and a cheesecake-like concoction. There were a few good picnics - one particularly delicious stuffed eggplant that I bought at the market in Odessa (the biggest open-air market in the former USSR, I might add) and an excellent smoked mackerel (from the same market). I guess it's just that the bad meals were so bad..a Georgian meal I will not bother to discuss and all the dry breakfasts, etc. Also, it's just sad to be this excited about German coffee. Finally, if anyone is still reading, I will leave you with one of my favorite images from our trip: the vodka selection in the grocery store in Kiev:
Seriously, they have an entirely separate aisle for other kinds of alcohol.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Der Unabhängigkeitstag
We had such a nice BBQ planned for the Fourth of July -- Berlin is full of parks and in many of them you can bring your own grill and have a cookout. I made star-shaped stracciatella meringue cookies with red, white, and blue sprinkles. I even tracked down sparklers so we could have a mini fireworks show. The weather has been perfect for the last several days: high 70s, blue skies with only a few picturesque puffy, white clouds. But we woke up this morning to thick gray skies and a precipitous drop in the temperature. And then it started to rain and didn't stop all day. As I wasn't invited to the opening of the US Embassy here, we dragged ourselves across the park to The Bird (an "American Steakhouse and Bar" - really an "authentic" American Burger joint, where they charmingly have "angry hour" instead of happy hour (so-named, I must conclude because the American staff there is trying (and succeeding) to outdo the famed Berlin rudeness) and declare that soft drinks and juice are available for "sissies"). It wasn't the most festive of Fourths, but at least the burger and fries were good. And, as we were traipsing back through the park, the Embassy was setting off their fireworks. We stood on the hill and watched the show (I provided a concert of patriotic (American) songs sung loudly and seriously out of tune for all within earshot).
So now that we've made what we could of this rainy Fourth of July, we are off to Ukraine. Why? (everyone asks): for a week of vacation or honeymoon number one (as I like to see it). We will try to avoid the radioactive berries and mushrooms, eat as many varenyky as possible, and possibly find out what all is fuss is (or was) about Chicken Kiev. Details to come......
So now that we've made what we could of this rainy Fourth of July, we are off to Ukraine. Why? (everyone asks): for a week of vacation or honeymoon number one (as I like to see it). We will try to avoid the radioactive berries and mushrooms, eat as many varenyky as possible, and possibly find out what all is fuss is (or was) about Chicken Kiev. Details to come......
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Gewerbe anmelden: Lektionen gelernt
Things I have learned/confirmed in the process of legally setting up a business in the Fatherland:
1. Germany has so many rules, even the bureaucrats (rule-imposers) themselves don't know them all. According to one agency, Americans (like me) aren't technically allowed to register a business (regardless of the size) until after three years of marriage (and here I am, only a month and a half in...). I could get all worked up and irate about this particular rule (overlooking the tiny fact that mein Mann, who one might point out, is married to an American, has to register online if he wants to visit my homeland...sigh), but suspecting that the agency charged with registering businesses might let me slide by (because I'm so nice? because if they don't let me do it the(ir) "right" way, I'm just going to find another way - there's always another way here?), I went down to the office of business registration last week, filled out the form, presented my passport complete with shiny new 3-year marriage-related visa and handed over 26 Euros and low and behold, the woman in charge of food-related businesses couldn't have cared less if I was American.
2.
Don't believe what they tell you: the insurance system isn't any better here. At least not if takes you (like it does me) an entire day to read the fine print on insurance company publications. You can, however, get liability insurance for your dog. I wonder, does it cost more for terriers? (Is this common in the US?)
I know the photos of my (parents') dogs are not entirely relevant here, but...they are cute, nein?
3. Even though they have a crazy lot of rules regarding safe food handling, they make almost no effort to enforce them. I've never been certified in the US, but I am pretty sure there's a test you have to pass to become certified. In Deutschland, all I had to do was watch a movie (think health class), in which some guy got food poisoning from eating in the restaurant where he worked (!) and then proceeded to wretch and writh around for 20 or so minutes. Then, I had to sign something saying I had watched it and was in good health (apparently if you don't attest to having been healthy during education movie-watching (and also test-taking) scenarios, you can later say: hey! I was sick, that's why I failed, so now they make you attest to it). The best part, though, is that because I don't have a boss to sign my certification form, I'm supposed to sign my own form and review the material with myself every year. I'm not complaining, I didn't want to take a test in German, but it does seem a little lax, no?
4. More lessons to come ... no doubt
1. Germany has so many rules, even the bureaucrats (rule-imposers) themselves don't know them all. According to one agency, Americans (like me) aren't technically allowed to register a business (regardless of the size) until after three years of marriage (and here I am, only a month and a half in...). I could get all worked up and irate about this particular rule (overlooking the tiny fact that mein Mann, who one might point out, is married to an American, has to register online if he wants to visit my homeland...sigh), but suspecting that the agency charged with registering businesses might let me slide by (because I'm so nice? because if they don't let me do it the(ir) "right" way, I'm just going to find another way - there's always another way here?), I went down to the office of business registration last week, filled out the form, presented my passport complete with shiny new 3-year marriage-related visa and handed over 26 Euros and low and behold, the woman in charge of food-related businesses couldn't have cared less if I was American.
2.
Don't believe what they tell you: the insurance system isn't any better here. At least not if takes you (like it does me) an entire day to read the fine print on insurance company publications. You can, however, get liability insurance for your dog. I wonder, does it cost more for terriers? (Is this common in the US?) 
I know the photos of my (parents') dogs are not entirely relevant here, but...they are cute, nein?3. Even though they have a crazy lot of rules regarding safe food handling, they make almost no effort to enforce them. I've never been certified in the US, but I am pretty sure there's a test you have to pass to become certified. In Deutschland, all I had to do was watch a movie (think health class), in which some guy got food poisoning from eating in the restaurant where he worked (!) and then proceeded to wretch and writh around for 20 or so minutes. Then, I had to sign something saying I had watched it and was in good health (apparently if you don't attest to having been healthy during education movie-watching (and also test-taking) scenarios, you can later say: hey! I was sick, that's why I failed, so now they make you attest to it). The best part, though, is that because I don't have a boss to sign my certification form, I'm supposed to sign my own form and review the material with myself every year. I'm not complaining, I didn't want to take a test in German, but it does seem a little lax, no?
4. More lessons to come ... no doubt
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Essbar Frühling (und Mauer)
Just to prove that there is (sometimes) more to life than bargain basement grocery stores here, I share with you a photo from a dinner party/exercise in cooking with others from a few weeks back. Inspired by springtime, three of us gathered at the local organic market and set about finding the makings of dinner. I'm generally a fan of benevolent dictatorships when it comes to deciding what's for dinner, but we overcame the complications of joint-shopping/cooking and made it home with a shopping cart laden with spring delights and a menu plan in mind. Alas, I did not manage a picture of our wild lettuces/greens with lemon vinaigrette, but it really was (for me anyway) the highlight of the meal. We got dandelion and nettle and a host of other lettucey things and edible blossoms. It was a tangled mess of shades of green from pale to purpley ... much more interesting and delicious than the same old "mixed greens" you always see (well, not in these parts, but stateside anyway) and certainly a gigantor step above the fatherland's beloved iceberg with prepared (preservative-laden) dressing. We also made orecchiette by hand to go with a spring veggie ragout: pancetta, artichokes and favas (shown here!), asparagus and purple-hued spring onions ... lots of lemon zest and splashes of wine and cream. I must admit the pasta was just a bit on the heavy side, but all in all, the dish was really, quite tasty. End-of-rhubarb-season panic had set in, so we (still basking in the deliciousness of our previous rhubarb tatin) settled on rhubarb clafouti, which the British among us enjoyed with a nice splash of heavy cream.
We've been having a quiet weekend over here (try starting the most very simplest of businesses in Germany and your head will also spin so much that you can't see straight enough to leave the apartment (pity mein Mann: he gets to go to work all week and then come home and help me decipher this nonsense). But, in case your head is fine and you happen to be in the neighborhood tonight and looking for something food-related to do: eat the wall! This is some bizarre and hysterical art-related event in which artists have been invited to make edible bricks (I wonder if they have valid food handlers certificates like me!?). The bricks will be used to build a wall (a la the Berlin Wall, they suggest) and tonight "we will eat our way through the divide in a grand communal catharsis." Somehow this doesn't sound so much yummy (or effective) as scary, but....if you do go, post back and let us know about the catharsis!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
