On Saturday afternoon I was in Wiesbaden, returning some items to the post library. I stopped by this store named METRO. I had never been there before and I was looking for a couple of items, so I decided that I’d check this place out.
It’s very big, like a super Walmart I thought. Nothing really struck my fancy until I got to the “Meat Room”. That’s correct; they have a refrigerated room of meat products. This was not like the walk-in refrigerator at Gib’s during the Kentucky State Fair. This place was larger than my living room, and was full of all types of meat vacuum packed, stacked, and just ready to be thrown into my cart. I was in heaven I tell ya’. They had boxes of marrow bones, oxtails, pigtails, calf knuckles, livers, kidneys … my head was spinning. They even had a cryovaced suckling pig! I picked it up, nuzzled with it for a while, but I didn’t place it in my cart. No, the pig would have to wait for another day.
See, I was also light on cash, and these places only accept EC cards. It’s some kind of European Debit Card or something, and I don’t have one. So I look for the most practical item I can find, and pick up 1.505 kilograms of skin-on pork belly-fat. Oh sure, I could have gone for the eccentric T-Bone or perhaps even gotten a little nutty and picked up some ground beef. But I just wasn’t feeling it that day. I must admit, I was feeling more than a little proud of the practicality of my choice.
I would return this place.
While I continued to view the goods on display, I started to see weird shadows sputter in front of me. At first I thought the lights were flickering. I looked around but no one else seemed to notice it. Then my field of vision started to contract and my head began to hurt. I must be having another aneurism ...
“Damn, I hate it when that happens! “
After almost 30 minutes of walking around in a 36 degree room in a t-shirt and shorts, I reckoned it was time to go. As I walked out of the room, the sound of two young girls chuckling caught the attention of my partially frozen brain. I looked down at my loinal region and cried out to them, “I was in the pool!”
After I calmed down and thawed out some I picked up a few more items and headed for the checkout. German people like to do things at the same time as … well … every other German person it seems. The stores are always so crowded, and everyone seems to be buying enough food to last the summer. I finally get up to the checkout and the girl asks me if I have some kind of card. “Nein”, I reply. I think she is just asking me for a Kroger Card or some savings card. I am waiting for her to start scanning my items, but she gets on the phone and calls for someone who speaks English. Apparently this is some kind of “Members Only” store (like Sam’s Club, not the place Walt buys his jackets), and I’m not one.
The girl who spoke English (very well, I might add) says I can use her card, but explains to me that you need to be a member. “How much is a membership?” I ask. She tells me that you have to be a re-seller (or a merchant of some sort). Visions of that cryovaced suckling pig are suddenly starting to dim. I didn’t believe her, but she was very nice and I was still experiencing some pangs of brain freeze and didn’t want to belabor the point. Anyhow, it was probably just a translation problem. Maybe I’ll check into it later on.
Since it seems that it is going to rain all weekend, I need a project for Sunday. I have just the thing in my cart….
30 July 2007
29 July 2007
Here’s a picture of my Ex…
… my Ex-Dog that is.
Word from Jersey is that he has four Confirmed Kills so far this summer. I guess those are numbers 3 and 4 at his feet. You may need to click on the picture and get a larger view to see them.
As you can probably imagine, I’m just gushing with pride!
Word from Jersey is that he has four Confirmed Kills so far this summer. I guess those are numbers 3 and 4 at his feet. You may need to click on the picture and get a larger view to see them.
As you can probably imagine, I’m just gushing with pride!
26 July 2007
The Mailman has been very good to me this week…
It’s been a banner week for mail here at The Haven. One day I get Michael Jackson’s “Great Beers of Belgium”, the very next day brought “Pork & Sons” and the invitation to Nancy’s wedding in Spain.
Then today, not expecting any more good luck I hesitated as I approached the mailbox. As I opened it I felt a bit of elation as I recognized the new NRA magazine in the box.
But there was also something else.
A key?
To yet another mailbox.
Is this some cruel hoax?
I was looking around for Alan Funt as I approached the second mailbox with the key.
I broke out my NBC kit (Nucular, Biological, Chemical) and dusted it for trace elements.
Nothing.
I opened it, and found to my surprise … my new truck tent! I had almost given up on it.
Of course I had to do a test installation as soon as I got home…
Then today, not expecting any more good luck I hesitated as I approached the mailbox. As I opened it I felt a bit of elation as I recognized the new NRA magazine in the box.
But there was also something else.
A key?
To yet another mailbox.
Is this some cruel hoax?
I was looking around for Alan Funt as I approached the second mailbox with the key.
I broke out my NBC kit (Nucular, Biological, Chemical) and dusted it for trace elements.
Nothing.
I opened it, and found to my surprise … my new truck tent! I had almost given up on it.
Of course I had to do a test installation as soon as I got home…
Thanks Cliffy, I knew you'd come through for me!
25 July 2007
Damage
Here’s a picture of the damage to back of my truck.
You can see that the damage is not really that extensive. I stopped at the Toyota dealership on my way home from the accident so they could order the plastic light cover. I don’t know how long the rest will take to get sorted out, but I want to get this replaced as soon as possible. I don’t think they sell Tacomas in Germany, so I thought it may take a while to get the part in. Even if they don’t do body work (and I don’t know if they do or not), the part will be on its way. Worse case scenario, I buy the part from them and take it to a guy who does bodywork.
I went to the Metzgerei on Saturday and bought the following bunch of goodies…
Here’s the index…
1 – Mettwurst (a smoked sausage made of roughly ground veal and pork)
2 – Wildschwein Schinken (Ham from a wild boar)
3 – Zunge (tongue from a calf)
4 – Blutwurst (blood sausage)
5 – Bierwurst (I actually like the name better than the sausage, it’s a little rough for an emulsified sausage, an has a strange flavor that I haven’t nailed down yet)
6 – Bier Knackers (the real Slim Jims)
Sunday morning, I made a tongue omelet. Went something like this…
Cut up some onion and yellow bell pepper (‘cause I had it in the fridge)…
Julienned about three slices of tongue…
Sautéed them in a little Olive Oil, with salt & pepper, and a pinch of crushed red pepper (the pizza stuff)…
Beat three eggs and mixed them around in a hot pan until slightly set…
Placed the tongue mixture into the center, with some Parmiggiano shavings and a little more salt & pepper…
Folded it, hit it with some chives, s&p, and a healthy ribbon of sriracha. Served it up with some nice bread and some schmaltz…
It browned a little more than I would have liked, but it sure was tasty!
I just got a new book in the mail this week. Can you guess where I’ll be this weekend?
You can see that the damage is not really that extensive. I stopped at the Toyota dealership on my way home from the accident so they could order the plastic light cover. I don’t know how long the rest will take to get sorted out, but I want to get this replaced as soon as possible. I don’t think they sell Tacomas in Germany, so I thought it may take a while to get the part in. Even if they don’t do body work (and I don’t know if they do or not), the part will be on its way. Worse case scenario, I buy the part from them and take it to a guy who does bodywork.
I went to the Metzgerei on Saturday and bought the following bunch of goodies…
Here’s the index…
1 – Mettwurst (a smoked sausage made of roughly ground veal and pork)
2 – Wildschwein Schinken (Ham from a wild boar)
3 – Zunge (tongue from a calf)
4 – Blutwurst (blood sausage)
5 – Bierwurst (I actually like the name better than the sausage, it’s a little rough for an emulsified sausage, an has a strange flavor that I haven’t nailed down yet)
6 – Bier Knackers (the real Slim Jims)
Sunday morning, I made a tongue omelet. Went something like this…
Cut up some onion and yellow bell pepper (‘cause I had it in the fridge)…
Julienned about three slices of tongue…
Sautéed them in a little Olive Oil, with salt & pepper, and a pinch of crushed red pepper (the pizza stuff)…
Beat three eggs and mixed them around in a hot pan until slightly set…
Placed the tongue mixture into the center, with some Parmiggiano shavings and a little more salt & pepper…
Folded it, hit it with some chives, s&p, and a healthy ribbon of sriracha. Served it up with some nice bread and some schmaltz…
It browned a little more than I would have liked, but it sure was tasty!
I just got a new book in the mail this week. Can you guess where I’ll be this weekend?
20 July 2007
A Short History of Accidents
On Friday I was in my second auto accident since I’ve been in Germany. The first was with a small BMW sports car, the second was with a motorcycle by way of a bus.
The first accident occurred a couple of months ago. I had my truck for a couple of weeks, but had not yet moved out of the hotel. I was at the Media Mart or the grocery store. I had been waiting for the new Wilco CD to come out over here, and would go to the Media Mart to look for it and do some grocery shopping next door. I always park away from stores because of the tightness of the parking spaces. There are always more spaces the farther you get from a store. I don’t even remember what I had bought that day.
I got into the truck and started it up; I put on the seatbelt, and checked the mirrors. I put it in gear, and turned to look behind me, and saw nothing moving. I look to my left rear a couple of times, because this is where the traffic will be coming from, and it looked clear. So I start back slowly, looking to the left for cars coming through the lot. I get about halfway out of the parking space when I feel and hear a crunch. Not a good Corn-Flake crunch, but a “this is going to cost me serious money” crunch.
I stop the truck and immediately check all my mirrors. I see nothing. There is nothing behind me! So I pull the truck back into the parking space and get out. I see a small blue BMW convertible in the space directly behind mine. A woman gets out of the car and we start looking at each others cars. I tell her that I don’t speak German. Luckily, she speaks pretty good English so that is not a problem. We are both looking at our vehicles and I can see a dent in my bumper. It’s somewhat large in area, but not deep. We look at her car and see … well … we can’t see any damage. None.
Up until this time I was calm. Now however it’s a different story, I’m furious. I let into her, “Look what your little car did to my big truck!”
Well, it didn’t actually happen that way. We looked at each other incredulously. “But I heard a crunch” she said. “So did I”. Finally we did find a broken plastic cover on one of her taillights.
“Yeah! Take that!”
It was emasculating, I tell ya! My big pickup has a big dent in the bumper, and her little BMW convertible sports car has a cracked light. Do you remember that scene in “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” when his heart grows ten sizes? Remember how they showed it with a magnifying glass?
Well, just picture that scene going in reverse, only with my testicles shrinking instead of my heart.
I guess she felt bad for me, because she turns to me and says “Shit Happens”. She was really nice about it. We both just happened to start backing out around the same time, and were both angling our cars out of the parking spaces, and we hit. I told her that I didn’t even see her (even after we hit), she said she didn’t see me either. Of course I was in the big red truck… one might expect to see THAT in the rearview.
I asked her what would normally happen, and she said that I would have to pay for the damage to her car, and she would pay for the damage to mine. I told her that I was not worried about it. I think she was probably getting the better end of that deal, because a plastic taillight cover is probably a little cheaper than a bumper. We shook hands and parted ways. I thought that she really did me a favor, because it’s not really a truck until it’s got a dent.
I am still a little broken up about her not sustaining as much damage as I did. The motorcycle, however, was not as lucky.
We had our Organizational Day picnic today. After I left I gave a friend a ride home, and turned to head back to the Rheingau. As I was coming up to the highway everything was backed up. I wasn’t too upset because I get of at the first exit which is not far. It was stop and go traffic, and the going was not going far. There is a motorcycle behind me, and I’m waiting for him to start moving up between cars as hey usually do. This guy however is just staying right behind me, in the center of the lane. I make it to within 300 meters of the exit. I’m stopped, with my foot on the brake and am getting ready to put the truck in gear to move forward another 10-20 feet, when I feel this crunch behind me. It was kind of a double crunch, and when I looked back the motorcyclist was pushing himself up on the tailgate of the truck.
When I got back to see what had happened, he was on his feet, but was visibly shaken. I thought he was in shock and speaking gibberish that I couldn’t understand. That was until I remembered I was in Germany. He was really pretty spooked about it (and rightly so). They took him away on a stretcher, although he was conscious and even helped himself up onto the gurney.
The motorcycle was almost entirely under the bus which was stopped about one foot from my truck. This guy was lucky that he didn’t lose a leg or two. I couldn’t tell what they were saying to him, but I think he may have some bruised (maybe broken) ribs. I didn’t even talk to the bus driver. A guy who had witnessed it was there and he spoke decent English, and I told him what happened. The Polizei officer just told me that I could go (after he took my information). He told me that I’d get a copy of the report in the mail, and I’d need to take that to my insurance company. I made sure to write down all of the license plate numbers of those involved, a quick description of what happened, and got a business card from the officer. He never even asked me what happened, but it was probably obvious being that the bus drove the motorcycle into the back of my truck. At least I can be pretty sure that the bus company has insurance.
The damage is not really that bad. A couple of dents and scrapes in the tailgate, a couple in the bumper, and a small scrape in the left quarter-panel. Ironically it also broke the plastic cover of my tail light. I guess we will have to see how this all pans out, but I should get a new bumper out of the deal, and some dent pulling and painting on the tailgate. I was a little shaken when it first happened, but by the time the cop told me I could leave, I was ready to go.
The first accident occurred a couple of months ago. I had my truck for a couple of weeks, but had not yet moved out of the hotel. I was at the Media Mart or the grocery store. I had been waiting for the new Wilco CD to come out over here, and would go to the Media Mart to look for it and do some grocery shopping next door. I always park away from stores because of the tightness of the parking spaces. There are always more spaces the farther you get from a store. I don’t even remember what I had bought that day.
I got into the truck and started it up; I put on the seatbelt, and checked the mirrors. I put it in gear, and turned to look behind me, and saw nothing moving. I look to my left rear a couple of times, because this is where the traffic will be coming from, and it looked clear. So I start back slowly, looking to the left for cars coming through the lot. I get about halfway out of the parking space when I feel and hear a crunch. Not a good Corn-Flake crunch, but a “this is going to cost me serious money” crunch.
I stop the truck and immediately check all my mirrors. I see nothing. There is nothing behind me! So I pull the truck back into the parking space and get out. I see a small blue BMW convertible in the space directly behind mine. A woman gets out of the car and we start looking at each others cars. I tell her that I don’t speak German. Luckily, she speaks pretty good English so that is not a problem. We are both looking at our vehicles and I can see a dent in my bumper. It’s somewhat large in area, but not deep. We look at her car and see … well … we can’t see any damage. None.
Up until this time I was calm. Now however it’s a different story, I’m furious. I let into her, “Look what your little car did to my big truck!”
Well, it didn’t actually happen that way. We looked at each other incredulously. “But I heard a crunch” she said. “So did I”. Finally we did find a broken plastic cover on one of her taillights.
“Yeah! Take that!”
It was emasculating, I tell ya! My big pickup has a big dent in the bumper, and her little BMW convertible sports car has a cracked light. Do you remember that scene in “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” when his heart grows ten sizes? Remember how they showed it with a magnifying glass?
Well, just picture that scene going in reverse, only with my testicles shrinking instead of my heart.
I guess she felt bad for me, because she turns to me and says “Shit Happens”. She was really nice about it. We both just happened to start backing out around the same time, and were both angling our cars out of the parking spaces, and we hit. I told her that I didn’t even see her (even after we hit), she said she didn’t see me either. Of course I was in the big red truck… one might expect to see THAT in the rearview.
I asked her what would normally happen, and she said that I would have to pay for the damage to her car, and she would pay for the damage to mine. I told her that I was not worried about it. I think she was probably getting the better end of that deal, because a plastic taillight cover is probably a little cheaper than a bumper. We shook hands and parted ways. I thought that she really did me a favor, because it’s not really a truck until it’s got a dent.
I am still a little broken up about her not sustaining as much damage as I did. The motorcycle, however, was not as lucky.
We had our Organizational Day picnic today. After I left I gave a friend a ride home, and turned to head back to the Rheingau. As I was coming up to the highway everything was backed up. I wasn’t too upset because I get of at the first exit which is not far. It was stop and go traffic, and the going was not going far. There is a motorcycle behind me, and I’m waiting for him to start moving up between cars as hey usually do. This guy however is just staying right behind me, in the center of the lane. I make it to within 300 meters of the exit. I’m stopped, with my foot on the brake and am getting ready to put the truck in gear to move forward another 10-20 feet, when I feel this crunch behind me. It was kind of a double crunch, and when I looked back the motorcyclist was pushing himself up on the tailgate of the truck.
When I got back to see what had happened, he was on his feet, but was visibly shaken. I thought he was in shock and speaking gibberish that I couldn’t understand. That was until I remembered I was in Germany. He was really pretty spooked about it (and rightly so). They took him away on a stretcher, although he was conscious and even helped himself up onto the gurney.
The motorcycle was almost entirely under the bus which was stopped about one foot from my truck. This guy was lucky that he didn’t lose a leg or two. I couldn’t tell what they were saying to him, but I think he may have some bruised (maybe broken) ribs. I didn’t even talk to the bus driver. A guy who had witnessed it was there and he spoke decent English, and I told him what happened. The Polizei officer just told me that I could go (after he took my information). He told me that I’d get a copy of the report in the mail, and I’d need to take that to my insurance company. I made sure to write down all of the license plate numbers of those involved, a quick description of what happened, and got a business card from the officer. He never even asked me what happened, but it was probably obvious being that the bus drove the motorcycle into the back of my truck. At least I can be pretty sure that the bus company has insurance.
The damage is not really that bad. A couple of dents and scrapes in the tailgate, a couple in the bumper, and a small scrape in the left quarter-panel. Ironically it also broke the plastic cover of my tail light. I guess we will have to see how this all pans out, but I should get a new bumper out of the deal, and some dent pulling and painting on the tailgate. I was a little shaken when it first happened, but by the time the cop told me I could leave, I was ready to go.
18 July 2007
Screwed by the Metric System
So Saturday I went to this organic farm place. It’s called Domäne Mechthildshausen. I’m not quite sure of the story of the place, but it seems pretty cool. It’s actually a working farm, with a dairy, a bakery, a butcher shop, and a market. I think all of the stuff there is organic (or bio as it’s called here). It’s really close to Wiesbaden Army Airfield, and I was there to return some library books. The Domäne itself is a good sized building with a big courtyard in the middle. What would usually be walls around the courtyard of a castle is all building here. The entrance drive to the courtyard is under what looks like office space. And it’s all stone, and very pretty.
Of course I didn’t have my camera with me, so you’re just going to have to imagine what it looks like. It’s kind of like a big farmhouse, only entirely different. I bought some of these berries there.
They are called Johannesbeeren, but they are better known in the States as Gooseberries. (**correction, they are red currants NOT gooseberries**) I tried one of my cousin Tom’s sure-fire German pick-up lines with the girl at the register. “Wo ist mein dinglebeeren?” I asked. She screamed for the manager and I was escorted off the premises by Hans and Wolfgang. Nice couple of guys…
I bought the Johannesbeeren because they reminded of the berries we had out in front of our house when I was growing up. Those were not edible, but I did manage to stuff enough of them into my nose to require a hospital visit. But that’s another story. A story that I’ll let one of my sisters tell in the comments (if they are so inclined). The Johannesbeeren are good, but when you take a whole mouthful at once? Whoooo weeee are they sour! I didn’t put any in my nose this time (ain’t you proud Ma?). I also bought some quark there, and when I got home I went on the bike ride to Geisenheim (see previous post).
Anyway, one day a couple of weeks ago, Somebody came by the house and stuck a little bit of paper in the door. The paper was an advertisement for a local outfit that delivers eggs right to your home. I thought this was great. Fresh eggs would be left on my doorstep (and hopefully not splattered in the street by one of the little bastards in the neighborhood). I was looking for an old milk box, or something that I could leave out for them to put the eggs in. After coming up empty at several locations, I just bought a small Rubbermaid container, and lined it with some newspaper to keep the eggs from cooking until I got home. Americans are such a bunch of babies about eggs and food poisoning. They don’t even refrigerate the eggs here. In stores they are just out on shelves.
As it turns out, the egg place also hires handicapped people from the surrounding communities. I don’t know whether the people are physically or mentally handicapped. As long as it’s not an egg smashing handicap, I’m OK with it. Today I got my first dozen eggs.
Now what is the first thing you noticed about that picture? Was it that the eggs are brown? Well, I’m cool with that. Was it the bottle of wine next to them? That was just on the table, and has nothing to do with this story. No the thing you should notice is the number of eggs. I didn’t get a dozen eggs, I got ten eggs!
The God-Damned Metric System ripped me off again!
Of course I didn’t have my camera with me, so you’re just going to have to imagine what it looks like. It’s kind of like a big farmhouse, only entirely different. I bought some of these berries there.
They are called Johannesbeeren, but they are better known in the States as Gooseberries. (**correction, they are red currants NOT gooseberries**) I tried one of my cousin Tom’s sure-fire German pick-up lines with the girl at the register. “Wo ist mein dinglebeeren?” I asked. She screamed for the manager and I was escorted off the premises by Hans and Wolfgang. Nice couple of guys…
I bought the Johannesbeeren because they reminded of the berries we had out in front of our house when I was growing up. Those were not edible, but I did manage to stuff enough of them into my nose to require a hospital visit. But that’s another story. A story that I’ll let one of my sisters tell in the comments (if they are so inclined). The Johannesbeeren are good, but when you take a whole mouthful at once? Whoooo weeee are they sour! I didn’t put any in my nose this time (ain’t you proud Ma?). I also bought some quark there, and when I got home I went on the bike ride to Geisenheim (see previous post).
Anyway, one day a couple of weeks ago, Somebody came by the house and stuck a little bit of paper in the door. The paper was an advertisement for a local outfit that delivers eggs right to your home. I thought this was great. Fresh eggs would be left on my doorstep (and hopefully not splattered in the street by one of the little bastards in the neighborhood). I was looking for an old milk box, or something that I could leave out for them to put the eggs in. After coming up empty at several locations, I just bought a small Rubbermaid container, and lined it with some newspaper to keep the eggs from cooking until I got home. Americans are such a bunch of babies about eggs and food poisoning. They don’t even refrigerate the eggs here. In stores they are just out on shelves.
As it turns out, the egg place also hires handicapped people from the surrounding communities. I don’t know whether the people are physically or mentally handicapped. As long as it’s not an egg smashing handicap, I’m OK with it. Today I got my first dozen eggs.
Now what is the first thing you noticed about that picture? Was it that the eggs are brown? Well, I’m cool with that. Was it the bottle of wine next to them? That was just on the table, and has nothing to do with this story. No the thing you should notice is the number of eggs. I didn’t get a dozen eggs, I got ten eggs!
The God-Damned Metric System ripped me off again!
15 July 2007
Hey Baby, it’s a Wild Weekend
I spent this weekend catching up on some things I’ve been neglecting for too long. Made some phone calls home on Saturday and did my Karate Kid impersonation on Sunday, which is today, as I’m writing this. It may be Monday or later when you read this, so you’re just going to have to imagine that it’s Sunday when you read this. OK? Good. Glad we got that straightened out.
Saturday I ran a couple of errands, rode my bike into Eltville for strange meat products because the local Metzgerei (butcher/meat forcer) closes at around noon, and I did not time things properly. However I was not disappointed by the selection in Eltville, and made several purchases. The best of which was a couple of slices of Schinkenmagen, which is a big sausage (bologna sized) that is basically cubes of ham suspended in a matrix of fat and coagulated blood.
I was particularly pleased to find two of the crafts of the Fleischmeister combined (ham curing and sausage making) in one package. I also found a bakery that was open there so I purchased this beautiful hulk of a loaf of bread.
When I got back I decided to ride down the Rhein for a bit. I was just riding along enjoying the sunny day and got as far as Geisenheim (not that far in reality, but a bit of a trip for a fat guy). I stopped at the Weinprobierstand in Geisenheim and got a glass of Riesling and a bottle of water and sat down at a bench. Weinprobierstands are basically kiosks (these particular ones are down by the river, I don’t know if they have them elsewhere) that sell wine by the glass (or bottle) and maybe some snacks. I stayed there for while and drank one small glass of wine (~3-4 oz) and a liter of water before heading home. I hit two more of the stands on my way home, but I didn’t have any water at these.
Saturday’s dinner consisted of a couple of sandwiches made with the hunk of bread and the Schinkenmagen.
Along with an Altenmunster pilsner it really hit the spot.
When I say that I did my Karate Kid impersonation on Sunday, I am referring to the “wax on, wax off” part. Today, for the first time since I’ve been here, I hand washed and waxed my truck. It is actually sort of a No-No to do work like that in Germany on a Sunday. But I did it in back of my apartment so nobody would have to watch me do something constructive on the Day of Rest. It was pretty hot here today. I was washing and waxing the truck in the heat of the sun. I got tired around mid wax on. I had been drinking diet coke and/or water up to this point, so I went inside and grabbed a couple of nice cold, hoppy, Flensburger Pilsners. They really scratched that itch and got me through the rest of the job Here is the result.
It might not be as shiny as a Steven’s car, but I’ll bet he has an electric buffer. I can’t tell you how much a door-to-door electric-car-buffer salesman could have gotten from me today.
I also took some pictures of the grapes. We’ve had quite a bit of rain lately, and too much can cause mold or fungus to set in. It’s also been pretty windy, so maybe that is drying everything out. This weekend was nice and sunny and in the high 80’s to low 90’s. I think it’s supposed to cool back down Monday or Tuesday of this week (and I’m sure it will rain too).
Saturday I ran a couple of errands, rode my bike into Eltville for strange meat products because the local Metzgerei (butcher/meat forcer) closes at around noon, and I did not time things properly. However I was not disappointed by the selection in Eltville, and made several purchases. The best of which was a couple of slices of Schinkenmagen, which is a big sausage (bologna sized) that is basically cubes of ham suspended in a matrix of fat and coagulated blood.
I was particularly pleased to find two of the crafts of the Fleischmeister combined (ham curing and sausage making) in one package. I also found a bakery that was open there so I purchased this beautiful hulk of a loaf of bread.
When I got back I decided to ride down the Rhein for a bit. I was just riding along enjoying the sunny day and got as far as Geisenheim (not that far in reality, but a bit of a trip for a fat guy). I stopped at the Weinprobierstand in Geisenheim and got a glass of Riesling and a bottle of water and sat down at a bench. Weinprobierstands are basically kiosks (these particular ones are down by the river, I don’t know if they have them elsewhere) that sell wine by the glass (or bottle) and maybe some snacks. I stayed there for while and drank one small glass of wine (~3-4 oz) and a liter of water before heading home. I hit two more of the stands on my way home, but I didn’t have any water at these.
Saturday’s dinner consisted of a couple of sandwiches made with the hunk of bread and the Schinkenmagen.
Along with an Altenmunster pilsner it really hit the spot.
When I say that I did my Karate Kid impersonation on Sunday, I am referring to the “wax on, wax off” part. Today, for the first time since I’ve been here, I hand washed and waxed my truck. It is actually sort of a No-No to do work like that in Germany on a Sunday. But I did it in back of my apartment so nobody would have to watch me do something constructive on the Day of Rest. It was pretty hot here today. I was washing and waxing the truck in the heat of the sun. I got tired around mid wax on. I had been drinking diet coke and/or water up to this point, so I went inside and grabbed a couple of nice cold, hoppy, Flensburger Pilsners. They really scratched that itch and got me through the rest of the job Here is the result.
It might not be as shiny as a Steven’s car, but I’ll bet he has an electric buffer. I can’t tell you how much a door-to-door electric-car-buffer salesman could have gotten from me today.
I also took some pictures of the grapes. We’ve had quite a bit of rain lately, and too much can cause mold or fungus to set in. It’s also been pretty windy, so maybe that is drying everything out. This weekend was nice and sunny and in the high 80’s to low 90’s. I think it’s supposed to cool back down Monday or Tuesday of this week (and I’m sure it will rain too).
11 July 2007
Since You’re Just Dying to Know…
Sunday I headed back to Wiesbaden earlier than I had planned. I wanted to make sure that I could find it without the GPS, and the traffic around Wurzburg tends to pile up later in the day. I managed to make it back OK and made very good time doing so. It was actually very easy, once I broke out a map and figured out the roads that I needed to take, I want to come back to Bamberg during the week when everything is open. Maybe spend a couple of days…
After I got back I went to the PX where I had bought the GPS to see if they could do anything. I went through two guys who just kept turning it off and on and removing and putting the card back in. I tried to explain to them that I had done that already (many times), but I guess they thought maybe I didn’t do it in the correct order. The third guy actually took the card, the one that was apparently run over by the car (luckily it was too small to show tire tracks), and put it into a computer. It turns out the card was bad.
“Well, what are we going to do about this?” I asked. I don’t think he bought the idea that this just happened out of thin air, and to set the record straight (or as straight as it can get in this sordid tale), I did not claim that it had. He sold me another 2GB SD card for $28, and copied the program onto it, and it worked fine. I think the program is an upgrade, and I still need to put my preferences into it. The most drastic change I’ve noticed is in the voice.
The old program had a woman’s voice, somewhat young sounding with a sweet British accent. The new voice sounds like an American woman who has been smoking for 50 years. So I went from Daphne saying “Beware” when my speed was too fast - to Homer Simpson’s sister-in-law Selma saying “Caution, watch your speed”.
Let me see if I can put this another way…
Daphne
I think the magic is gone between us.
After I got back I went to the PX where I had bought the GPS to see if they could do anything. I went through two guys who just kept turning it off and on and removing and putting the card back in. I tried to explain to them that I had done that already (many times), but I guess they thought maybe I didn’t do it in the correct order. The third guy actually took the card, the one that was apparently run over by the car (luckily it was too small to show tire tracks), and put it into a computer. It turns out the card was bad.
“Well, what are we going to do about this?” I asked. I don’t think he bought the idea that this just happened out of thin air, and to set the record straight (or as straight as it can get in this sordid tale), I did not claim that it had. He sold me another 2GB SD card for $28, and copied the program onto it, and it worked fine. I think the program is an upgrade, and I still need to put my preferences into it. The most drastic change I’ve noticed is in the voice.
The old program had a woman’s voice, somewhat young sounding with a sweet British accent. The new voice sounds like an American woman who has been smoking for 50 years. So I went from Daphne saying “Beware” when my speed was too fast - to Homer Simpson’s sister-in-law Selma saying “Caution, watch your speed”.
Let me see if I can put this another way…
Daphne
I think the magic is gone between us.
08 July 2007
Going Back to My Roots … or … Eine Mehr Bier, Bitte
It was an interesting weekend. Sorry I haven’t gotten to update for a while, but you try finding something worth writing about more than once a week (Steven can back me up on this). Or the time to do it. Anyhoo, there was one day this past week (and I forget which one) that I actually ate a salad. Now just hold the presses, because there is more to this sordid tale… I ate two salads in one day! And no it wasn’t a wurstsalat or potato salad; they were both honest-to-god, lettuce salads. There, I hope everyone is happy now.
Here’s a pic of the one I had for dinner with the Rollmops which, by the way, were excellent.
The little pickle (standard cucumber pickle) in the middle was a nice surprise. I think that is the Barth Oestricher Riesling that accompanied this fine meal.
On Wednesday (the 4th of July) I took a round of beef, browned it in a little oil, added a couple of potatoes and a bulb of fresh garlic, all except for the meat were purchased at the farmers market that morning. I had placed all of this in a cast iron skillet on top of a couple of sticks of fresh rosemary. I put it into the oven until it reached about 135 (deg. F).
I made a roux from the bits that were left in the pan. Then added a variety of mushrooms (also from the farmer’s market) and let them cook a bit before adding some wine.
It turned out to be a decent sauce, although the meat was a bit tough. I should have used a loin for this (and perhaps a recipe might have helped).
This weekend I wanted to take a small trip, not more than 2 or 3 hours one way. I was thinking about making a beer jaunt to Belgium. I’m trying to get a couple of guys from work to do a 2-3 day jaunt every couple of months to big brewery areas. So I thought I’d do a little recon for a future trip.
One of the guys I work with, who from this point on will be referred to as Lawrence (because, well… because, that’s his name), had told me that Bamberg was a good bier town, and would be a good destination for our group (which is up to two right now, but just wait until this hits the streets. People will be lining up to get in).
As I was researching Belgian beers on the web, I came across a site that had tons of info on a lot of European breweries and beers. Bamberg produces some great traditional Kelllar Biers, which are traditional cask conditioned beers and are served by gravity flow from the cask they are fermented in. And as it turns out, the surrounding area has the largest concentration of breweries in the world.
“You had me at ‘Kellar Bier’.”
So I left the Rheingau and all of the fancy pants wine stuff behind and headed for beer country on Saturday morning. Friday afternoon I had made a reservation to stay at a brewery Saturday night. Yes that’s right, spend the night at a brewery. There are quite a few of these Braugasthöfes, and they are true working breweries with guest rooms in adjoining buildings or upstairs. I made reservations at one outside of Bamberg. I was wondering if I’d be able to even go to sleep there. It would be like a kid trying to sleep on Christmas Eve. Every sound would wake me, and I’d look out the window just knowing that it was the brewmaster making those noises. And surely he would be doing this with the help of the bier elves. Perhaps he knew I was coming, and was preparing a special brew just for me. “I’ve been a pretty good boy”, I thought. Aside from that incident with the hooker in Portsmouth. I had to leave Virginia on account of that (thanks Walt), but surely he wouldn’t hold it against me. Not him, not here.
So I did my research, and made a list of places to check out. Friday night I took a last walk in the vineyards. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to return after seeing what I was inevitably going to see the next day. I did buy 4 bottles from a gartenstrausswirtschaft (I really don’t know what the hell this is but they sell wine there). I was feeling a little Ecclesiastical.
Saturday morning I packed my stuff, but got on the road later than I wanted to. There was also some traffic which just postponed my Vision Quest. I got to Bamberg early Saturday afternoon and the place was pretty damn crowded. I drove back to the Braugasthöfe and it seemed like it was further out of town than I had thought it was. There was also a decent size hill between the town and the Braugasthöfe, and I would be riding my new toy.
So I drove into town and parked at the Bahnhof (train station). I thought that I could probably find someplace closer to the downtown. First stop on my little Le Tour de Bier was the Bräuerei Spezial for some Rauchbier (beer made from smoked malt) and some grub. I walked into a neat little Biergarten. I was there for about 10 minutes and a waiter comes over with two biers in one hand and a plate in the other. He asks me if I want a beer, I say “ya”. I’m trying to decide on which type and I realize that he’s already put one of the biers in his hand down and is gone. I guess I don’t get to choose here. That’s OK because he’s given me a smoked lager. It’s pretty good but it does have a strange flavor. The smoke gives the bier has a slight tang, and it has an odd lingering aftertaste. It’s barely carbonated so I’m assuming that it’s gravity fed, but I did not go inside to verify this.
I wanted to get something to eat, but the kitchen closes at 13:30 and the whole place shuts down at 14:00. I am kind of baffled because he’s still bringing food to people, and I was here before 13:30, but was conveniently ignored until the kitchen closed. There are still all kinds of people coming in and the place is only open for another 20 minutes. Many of them are heading back out the door, so I guess I’m lucky to have even gotten a bier. This is an example of German customer service. The people are pleasant enough to you, but they are not going to try to go out of their way to make sure you are pleased in any way. But then they don’t work for tips over here, so I guess they don’t have to please you, or rather it doesn’t matter if they do or not. Well I guess I’m finished here; I pay the guy and leave and I make sure the SOB give me all of my change. The smoked bier was OK, but I really don’t see myself becoming attached to it.
Since it was the first nice day in about 2 weeks, I sat outside everyplace I went. In fact I didn’t even go into one of these places. I’ve already decided that I will come back, during the week when everything is working and open. Most places have little Biergartens outside that are very well shaded by oak and chestnut trees. I could get used to living here.
“You had me at 'Biergarten'.”
Next stop – Mahr’s Bräu. I arrived without too much trouble. I brought my GPS with me and it’s guiding me along on my bicycle. Although I do need to occasionally pull it out of my pocket to look at it, and who knows how long the batteries will last? The kitchen at this place is closed until 17:00. The building is on a street called Wunderburg, and I think there are 3 breweries on this street (so it is really pretty Wunderbar). I had a half liter of Ungespundetes. Now, I don’t have a clue what that word means, but the bier was very tasty. This place has been brewing since the 1600’s, and it is definitely a working brewery (although no work on Saturdays). Not big, but not a micro brewery by any means. It’s also right next to a church. The bier here is well respected in this area, and I’ve seen a number of Mahr’s Bräu signs at pubs and restaurants in town.
Then it was off to the Maisel Bräuerei, where I ordered a Kellarbier. This is a cask conditioned lager done in the old style, fed out of a barrel by gravity. It’s supposed to be one of the best in the area, and it doesn’t disappoint. A nice amber beer, not much carbonation because it’s gravity fed, a little cloudy because it’s unfiltered, a pleasantly crisp hoppy bite, this is a damn fine bier. I could get used to this; however, I don’t think it comes in bottles. There is some stern looking old man in sunglasses facing in my direction. I can’t tell whether he’s upset with my presence here or if he’s just an unhappy looking old guy. It makes no difference to me, because I just ordered the Pork Belly plate so I’m going to be here a while.
Before my meal comes I meet and American couple who I invite to sit down at my table. She’s a pharmacist at Landstuhl and he’s just picking up odd jobs and enjoying Europe while they’re here. Sounds like a good deal to me. They are both big beer fans and were telling me about a couple of trips they made to Belgium. We agree to hook up for any trips down the road. They are nice people, though a little confused politically.
When he started talking about gun control, I looked him in the eye and told him I was a member of the NRA. He backpedaled a bit. We didn’t get into any heavy discussions, because I did not bite every time they said something I disagreed with. This is all part of the Kinder-Gentler-Tony I’ve been trying to nurture. It’s hard sometimes, but I’m learning to not just blurt out the first rude comment that comes into my head.
After a while we decided to go to another pace in the downtown area that was on their list. They were on foot, I had my bike. I was going to meet them there, and had typed in the address into the GPS. I was wearing a shirt with a breast pocket, so I had the GPA unit there. Every once in a while an English-sounding woman would say, “In 200 meters, turn right onto the __strasse”. This would always elicit strange stares from the people walking on the sidewalk near me. I also needed to keep checking the map feature, because I was going through some areas that are not mapped for vehicles or are one way streets (the other way than I was traveling). When I would stop to look at the unit, it would think that I turned of the road and would recalculate the route, so I had to look at it while I was moving.
I was riding down a road and when I went to put the GPS back in my breast pocket, my backpack strap must have interfered just enough so that when I let it go I heard it fall on the street. “Shit!” I immediately stop and get off of the bike. When I looked at it there is a message in the screen that says that the memory card has been removed. So I’m looking on the road for this small blue plastic card. It’s about one inch square so it shouldn’t be too hard. I don’t see on the street near where I am though. As I’m bending down to look under a parked car, I hear a “SNIK SWIP” sound. I know immediately where my card is, because a car going in the other direction just ran over it.
I pick up the card and it doesn’t look any worse for wear, however the GPS system is not working. I meet my new friends walking to the next bar. I explain what happened, and she writes dwn her directions. I ride ahead of them to the next place and take some pictures in the part of town where we are going. I’m wondering how easy it will be to get back to Wiesbaden without the GPS, and how I will get back to the hotel/brewery without it. I don’t think I even have the address with me. After a Swarzebier (black beer) there, I decide I’ve got to leave. They are going to continue to a couple of other places. People keep telling us about this place that has a smoked bier that tastes like bacon, but I’ve got to keep my wits about myself. They don’t take to kindly to DUI over here, and definitely wouldn’t think it was funny for an American.
I return to the Bahnhöf, with the help of one set of directions. Once I get there, I load my bike into the truck, tie it down and set out to leave. As I get up to the exit structure I notice it looks a lot like the one on the way in. There is no place to put any money and it keeps spitting my ticket back at me. Luckily no one is behind me, so I back out of the chute. I stop a family getting into their car and the man shows me where I need to pay. The entire place is automated and you need to pay at a machine that puts some code onto your card allowing you to leave. It was only 4 Eros, for the parking, but all I had were 20 Euro bills. It accepted the bill and spit 16 Euros worth of coins back at me. I felt like I ht the slots in Vegas!
So I put the ticket into the machine and get out of the garage OK. I manage to find my way back to the road I needed to be on and even found my way back to the hotel/brewery. I go into the bar and hand my reservation to the bartender. They are having a wedding there this night and I’m scared that I’m not going to get a room. The guy is gone for quite a while (also not a good sign). When he comes back he tells me that because of the wedding they have no rooms. But he did call and find me another room nearby, he gives me directions and I thank him and leave. I get to the next place, and they put me into a double room, but only charge me for a single. It’s a little more expensive, but at this point I don’t care. I pay for my room and go park my truck, and sit down with two British guys who are drinking beer at an outside table. I’m still pretty full from the pork belly platter (which was excellent by the way, two big ol’ slabs of pork belly with a bunch of kraut, and some roasted potatoes), so I order another bier for each of us and we sat outside drinking a couple of biers and talking until around midnight.
Here’s a pic of the one I had for dinner with the Rollmops which, by the way, were excellent.
The little pickle (standard cucumber pickle) in the middle was a nice surprise. I think that is the Barth Oestricher Riesling that accompanied this fine meal.
On Wednesday (the 4th of July) I took a round of beef, browned it in a little oil, added a couple of potatoes and a bulb of fresh garlic, all except for the meat were purchased at the farmers market that morning. I had placed all of this in a cast iron skillet on top of a couple of sticks of fresh rosemary. I put it into the oven until it reached about 135 (deg. F).
I made a roux from the bits that were left in the pan. Then added a variety of mushrooms (also from the farmer’s market) and let them cook a bit before adding some wine.
It turned out to be a decent sauce, although the meat was a bit tough. I should have used a loin for this (and perhaps a recipe might have helped).
This weekend I wanted to take a small trip, not more than 2 or 3 hours one way. I was thinking about making a beer jaunt to Belgium. I’m trying to get a couple of guys from work to do a 2-3 day jaunt every couple of months to big brewery areas. So I thought I’d do a little recon for a future trip.
One of the guys I work with, who from this point on will be referred to as Lawrence (because, well… because, that’s his name), had told me that Bamberg was a good bier town, and would be a good destination for our group (which is up to two right now, but just wait until this hits the streets. People will be lining up to get in).
As I was researching Belgian beers on the web, I came across a site that had tons of info on a lot of European breweries and beers. Bamberg produces some great traditional Kelllar Biers, which are traditional cask conditioned beers and are served by gravity flow from the cask they are fermented in. And as it turns out, the surrounding area has the largest concentration of breweries in the world.
“You had me at ‘Kellar Bier’.”
So I left the Rheingau and all of the fancy pants wine stuff behind and headed for beer country on Saturday morning. Friday afternoon I had made a reservation to stay at a brewery Saturday night. Yes that’s right, spend the night at a brewery. There are quite a few of these Braugasthöfes, and they are true working breweries with guest rooms in adjoining buildings or upstairs. I made reservations at one outside of Bamberg. I was wondering if I’d be able to even go to sleep there. It would be like a kid trying to sleep on Christmas Eve. Every sound would wake me, and I’d look out the window just knowing that it was the brewmaster making those noises. And surely he would be doing this with the help of the bier elves. Perhaps he knew I was coming, and was preparing a special brew just for me. “I’ve been a pretty good boy”, I thought. Aside from that incident with the hooker in Portsmouth. I had to leave Virginia on account of that (thanks Walt), but surely he wouldn’t hold it against me. Not him, not here.
So I did my research, and made a list of places to check out. Friday night I took a last walk in the vineyards. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to return after seeing what I was inevitably going to see the next day. I did buy 4 bottles from a gartenstrausswirtschaft (I really don’t know what the hell this is but they sell wine there). I was feeling a little Ecclesiastical.
Saturday morning I packed my stuff, but got on the road later than I wanted to. There was also some traffic which just postponed my Vision Quest. I got to Bamberg early Saturday afternoon and the place was pretty damn crowded. I drove back to the Braugasthöfe and it seemed like it was further out of town than I had thought it was. There was also a decent size hill between the town and the Braugasthöfe, and I would be riding my new toy.
So I drove into town and parked at the Bahnhof (train station). I thought that I could probably find someplace closer to the downtown. First stop on my little Le Tour de Bier was the Bräuerei Spezial for some Rauchbier (beer made from smoked malt) and some grub. I walked into a neat little Biergarten. I was there for about 10 minutes and a waiter comes over with two biers in one hand and a plate in the other. He asks me if I want a beer, I say “ya”. I’m trying to decide on which type and I realize that he’s already put one of the biers in his hand down and is gone. I guess I don’t get to choose here. That’s OK because he’s given me a smoked lager. It’s pretty good but it does have a strange flavor. The smoke gives the bier has a slight tang, and it has an odd lingering aftertaste. It’s barely carbonated so I’m assuming that it’s gravity fed, but I did not go inside to verify this.
I wanted to get something to eat, but the kitchen closes at 13:30 and the whole place shuts down at 14:00. I am kind of baffled because he’s still bringing food to people, and I was here before 13:30, but was conveniently ignored until the kitchen closed. There are still all kinds of people coming in and the place is only open for another 20 minutes. Many of them are heading back out the door, so I guess I’m lucky to have even gotten a bier. This is an example of German customer service. The people are pleasant enough to you, but they are not going to try to go out of their way to make sure you are pleased in any way. But then they don’t work for tips over here, so I guess they don’t have to please you, or rather it doesn’t matter if they do or not. Well I guess I’m finished here; I pay the guy and leave and I make sure the SOB give me all of my change. The smoked bier was OK, but I really don’t see myself becoming attached to it.
Since it was the first nice day in about 2 weeks, I sat outside everyplace I went. In fact I didn’t even go into one of these places. I’ve already decided that I will come back, during the week when everything is working and open. Most places have little Biergartens outside that are very well shaded by oak and chestnut trees. I could get used to living here.
“You had me at 'Biergarten'.”
Next stop – Mahr’s Bräu. I arrived without too much trouble. I brought my GPS with me and it’s guiding me along on my bicycle. Although I do need to occasionally pull it out of my pocket to look at it, and who knows how long the batteries will last? The kitchen at this place is closed until 17:00. The building is on a street called Wunderburg, and I think there are 3 breweries on this street (so it is really pretty Wunderbar). I had a half liter of Ungespundetes. Now, I don’t have a clue what that word means, but the bier was very tasty. This place has been brewing since the 1600’s, and it is definitely a working brewery (although no work on Saturdays). Not big, but not a micro brewery by any means. It’s also right next to a church. The bier here is well respected in this area, and I’ve seen a number of Mahr’s Bräu signs at pubs and restaurants in town.
Then it was off to the Maisel Bräuerei, where I ordered a Kellarbier. This is a cask conditioned lager done in the old style, fed out of a barrel by gravity. It’s supposed to be one of the best in the area, and it doesn’t disappoint. A nice amber beer, not much carbonation because it’s gravity fed, a little cloudy because it’s unfiltered, a pleasantly crisp hoppy bite, this is a damn fine bier. I could get used to this; however, I don’t think it comes in bottles. There is some stern looking old man in sunglasses facing in my direction. I can’t tell whether he’s upset with my presence here or if he’s just an unhappy looking old guy. It makes no difference to me, because I just ordered the Pork Belly plate so I’m going to be here a while.
Before my meal comes I meet and American couple who I invite to sit down at my table. She’s a pharmacist at Landstuhl and he’s just picking up odd jobs and enjoying Europe while they’re here. Sounds like a good deal to me. They are both big beer fans and were telling me about a couple of trips they made to Belgium. We agree to hook up for any trips down the road. They are nice people, though a little confused politically.
When he started talking about gun control, I looked him in the eye and told him I was a member of the NRA. He backpedaled a bit. We didn’t get into any heavy discussions, because I did not bite every time they said something I disagreed with. This is all part of the Kinder-Gentler-Tony I’ve been trying to nurture. It’s hard sometimes, but I’m learning to not just blurt out the first rude comment that comes into my head.
After a while we decided to go to another pace in the downtown area that was on their list. They were on foot, I had my bike. I was going to meet them there, and had typed in the address into the GPS. I was wearing a shirt with a breast pocket, so I had the GPA unit there. Every once in a while an English-sounding woman would say, “In 200 meters, turn right onto the __strasse”. This would always elicit strange stares from the people walking on the sidewalk near me. I also needed to keep checking the map feature, because I was going through some areas that are not mapped for vehicles or are one way streets (the other way than I was traveling). When I would stop to look at the unit, it would think that I turned of the road and would recalculate the route, so I had to look at it while I was moving.
I was riding down a road and when I went to put the GPS back in my breast pocket, my backpack strap must have interfered just enough so that when I let it go I heard it fall on the street. “Shit!” I immediately stop and get off of the bike. When I looked at it there is a message in the screen that says that the memory card has been removed. So I’m looking on the road for this small blue plastic card. It’s about one inch square so it shouldn’t be too hard. I don’t see on the street near where I am though. As I’m bending down to look under a parked car, I hear a “SNIK SWIP” sound. I know immediately where my card is, because a car going in the other direction just ran over it.
I pick up the card and it doesn’t look any worse for wear, however the GPS system is not working. I meet my new friends walking to the next bar. I explain what happened, and she writes dwn her directions. I ride ahead of them to the next place and take some pictures in the part of town where we are going. I’m wondering how easy it will be to get back to Wiesbaden without the GPS, and how I will get back to the hotel/brewery without it. I don’t think I even have the address with me. After a Swarzebier (black beer) there, I decide I’ve got to leave. They are going to continue to a couple of other places. People keep telling us about this place that has a smoked bier that tastes like bacon, but I’ve got to keep my wits about myself. They don’t take to kindly to DUI over here, and definitely wouldn’t think it was funny for an American.
I return to the Bahnhöf, with the help of one set of directions. Once I get there, I load my bike into the truck, tie it down and set out to leave. As I get up to the exit structure I notice it looks a lot like the one on the way in. There is no place to put any money and it keeps spitting my ticket back at me. Luckily no one is behind me, so I back out of the chute. I stop a family getting into their car and the man shows me where I need to pay. The entire place is automated and you need to pay at a machine that puts some code onto your card allowing you to leave. It was only 4 Eros, for the parking, but all I had were 20 Euro bills. It accepted the bill and spit 16 Euros worth of coins back at me. I felt like I ht the slots in Vegas!
So I put the ticket into the machine and get out of the garage OK. I manage to find my way back to the road I needed to be on and even found my way back to the hotel/brewery. I go into the bar and hand my reservation to the bartender. They are having a wedding there this night and I’m scared that I’m not going to get a room. The guy is gone for quite a while (also not a good sign). When he comes back he tells me that because of the wedding they have no rooms. But he did call and find me another room nearby, he gives me directions and I thank him and leave. I get to the next place, and they put me into a double room, but only charge me for a single. It’s a little more expensive, but at this point I don’t care. I pay for my room and go park my truck, and sit down with two British guys who are drinking beer at an outside table. I’m still pretty full from the pork belly platter (which was excellent by the way, two big ol’ slabs of pork belly with a bunch of kraut, and some roasted potatoes), so I order another bier for each of us and we sat outside drinking a couple of biers and talking until around midnight.
01 July 2007
The Good Just Keeps Getting Better
After my trip to Alsace I was inspired to do some cooking.
“What kind of cooking Uncle Tony?”
Well, I would have to say I was inspired to cook something Alsatian. And what could possibly be better than the Alsatian take on the French classic: Coq au Vin (Chicken cooked in wine)? The classic French version uses a red wine (usually a burgundy, I believe). In Alsace they do a Coq au Riesling, and since I didn’t happen to have an old rooster (and the commissary was out of whole chickens), I used four chicken thighs. When I look back upon it now, I should have used six thighs. However by the time I realized this it was too late to thaw any more.
Anyway, I browned the thighs in a little olive oil and butter, added some leeks, some celery, and a grated carrot (and salt & pepper of course). Sautéed this for a while before adding about ½ bottle of Riesling and some dried herbs.
In another pan I sautéed some mushrooms and some garlic in a little butter and olive oil.
When the mushrooms were soft I added them to the chicken, along with some cream. Let this simmer for a while, and cooked some rice. Served it up over some rice with a nice Barth Oestricher Riesling.
Very nice.
Saturday morning I went to the Metzgerei and bought some force meats.
Saturday’s breakfast consisted of … if you guessed Blutwurst, you are today’s winner! Of course I had to hit the glistening little slivers of porcine perfection with some Sriracha.
Sunday’s breakfast was a little more elaborate. I fried up some fresh white bratwurst with some leeks in a little olive oil. Cooked two eggs, over easy, and added two pieces of Challah.
Had it with a cup of Joe that I made in my nifty new coffee press I bought at IKEA. I know; I’m turning into a complete Euro-weenie. But truth be told, I was wondering for a while how the coffee presses worked (and how well). A guy I work with uses one and told me he really likes it. I sprung the 10 Euros (~$13.50) for it, and by God it makes decent coffee. I’d like to think I had something to do with it. I did after all pour the water in at ~180 degrees Fahrenheit (I had checked it with my meat thermometer, but I didn’t break out the digital one). If the temperature is allowed to go much over 180 degrees it begins to extract the tannic acid from the beans which makes the coffee bitter. I still need to experiment with how long to leave it on the grounds for the best coffee, but I’ll figure it out.
I spent most of Saturday arranging my apartment. Remember when I said that jobs like this require long periods of procrastination?
I think I am getting close to having the ultimate apartment. It is at the very least a great apartment. What do you think?
I know what you're thinking,
"Sure Tony, it's a nice apartment, but I don't see anything so great about it"
... Look closely ...
"I am looking at it, and it looks just the same as the picture you posted a couple of weeks ago"
... Click on the picture to blow it up ...
"It's as big as my screen will go, I just don't see what's..."
... Look closer ...
"Did you clean it? Is that what I'm supposed to see?"
... No, look to the left in the room ...
"Yeah, it's a chair ... and a ... wait a damn minute ... this is your living room?"
... Yes ...
"Tony, you are a God Damned Genius!"
I think I made the jump from a good apartment to a great apartment when I moved in the appliance you see on the left into the room. See, I have four refrigerators in this place and they are all small. I had this one in a closet that I am using as a pantry, and it just took up too much space in there. There was not really another place where it fit, and I didn’t want to put it in my bedroom. So naturally, I moved it into my living room.
It shouldn't be a big deal anyway, it’s almost empty …
I also came into possession of a 220 Volt/50 Hz turntable. So while I was doing the arranging, I was enjoying the melodious sounds of the High Sherriff Ricky Barnes and the Hoot Owls (on OKra Records no less).
And to top it all off, While I was at the Asian grocery this week I found that they had different flavors of Flying Goose Brand Sriracha. Now I am a Rooster Brand Sriracha man from way back, and do not especially care for the Flying Goose Brand. Well it comes in small bottles so it was worth a shot. It comes in lemongrass, ginger, onion, and extra garlic flavors. I grabbed a bottle of the extra garlic, and I must report that it is pretty damn good.
Now the regular Rooster Brand Sriracha is still my everyday “go to” hot sauce. But when I need the extra punch of some heat with an extra dose of garlic, I am covered.
“What kind of cooking Uncle Tony?”
Well, I would have to say I was inspired to cook something Alsatian. And what could possibly be better than the Alsatian take on the French classic: Coq au Vin (Chicken cooked in wine)? The classic French version uses a red wine (usually a burgundy, I believe). In Alsace they do a Coq au Riesling, and since I didn’t happen to have an old rooster (and the commissary was out of whole chickens), I used four chicken thighs. When I look back upon it now, I should have used six thighs. However by the time I realized this it was too late to thaw any more.
Anyway, I browned the thighs in a little olive oil and butter, added some leeks, some celery, and a grated carrot (and salt & pepper of course). Sautéed this for a while before adding about ½ bottle of Riesling and some dried herbs.
In another pan I sautéed some mushrooms and some garlic in a little butter and olive oil.
When the mushrooms were soft I added them to the chicken, along with some cream. Let this simmer for a while, and cooked some rice. Served it up over some rice with a nice Barth Oestricher Riesling.
Very nice.
Saturday morning I went to the Metzgerei and bought some force meats.
Saturday’s breakfast consisted of … if you guessed Blutwurst, you are today’s winner! Of course I had to hit the glistening little slivers of porcine perfection with some Sriracha.
Sunday’s breakfast was a little more elaborate. I fried up some fresh white bratwurst with some leeks in a little olive oil. Cooked two eggs, over easy, and added two pieces of Challah.
Had it with a cup of Joe that I made in my nifty new coffee press I bought at IKEA. I know; I’m turning into a complete Euro-weenie. But truth be told, I was wondering for a while how the coffee presses worked (and how well). A guy I work with uses one and told me he really likes it. I sprung the 10 Euros (~$13.50) for it, and by God it makes decent coffee. I’d like to think I had something to do with it. I did after all pour the water in at ~180 degrees Fahrenheit (I had checked it with my meat thermometer, but I didn’t break out the digital one). If the temperature is allowed to go much over 180 degrees it begins to extract the tannic acid from the beans which makes the coffee bitter. I still need to experiment with how long to leave it on the grounds for the best coffee, but I’ll figure it out.
I spent most of Saturday arranging my apartment. Remember when I said that jobs like this require long periods of procrastination?
I think I am getting close to having the ultimate apartment. It is at the very least a great apartment. What do you think?
I know what you're thinking,
"Sure Tony, it's a nice apartment, but I don't see anything so great about it"
... Look closely ...
"I am looking at it, and it looks just the same as the picture you posted a couple of weeks ago"
... Click on the picture to blow it up ...
"It's as big as my screen will go, I just don't see what's..."
... Look closer ...
"Did you clean it? Is that what I'm supposed to see?"
... No, look to the left in the room ...
"Yeah, it's a chair ... and a ... wait a damn minute ... this is your living room?"
... Yes ...
"Tony, you are a God Damned Genius!"
I think I made the jump from a good apartment to a great apartment when I moved in the appliance you see on the left into the room. See, I have four refrigerators in this place and they are all small. I had this one in a closet that I am using as a pantry, and it just took up too much space in there. There was not really another place where it fit, and I didn’t want to put it in my bedroom. So naturally, I moved it into my living room.
It shouldn't be a big deal anyway, it’s almost empty …
I also came into possession of a 220 Volt/50 Hz turntable. So while I was doing the arranging, I was enjoying the melodious sounds of the High Sherriff Ricky Barnes and the Hoot Owls (on OKra Records no less).
And to top it all off, While I was at the Asian grocery this week I found that they had different flavors of Flying Goose Brand Sriracha. Now I am a Rooster Brand Sriracha man from way back, and do not especially care for the Flying Goose Brand. Well it comes in small bottles so it was worth a shot. It comes in lemongrass, ginger, onion, and extra garlic flavors. I grabbed a bottle of the extra garlic, and I must report that it is pretty damn good.
Now the regular Rooster Brand Sriracha is still my everyday “go to” hot sauce. But when I need the extra punch of some heat with an extra dose of garlic, I am covered.
With the blutwurst and the extra garlic hot sauce it's probably a good thing that the guy that sits behind me is on vacation this week!
Le Chateau du Haut-Barr
After the Menu Dégustation, as I was walking back to the hotel I stopped in at a little bar and had a couple of beers. The beers were from an Alsacien brewery named Licorne. They were pilsner style, and quite tasty. The bar was a neat little place. What I was most impressed with was the neighborhood type atmosphere. I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying, but it was clear that there were jokes going back and forth between the clientele and the workers. And everyone seemed to know each other. It kind of reminded me of the atmosphere on a good night at Flabby’s. I kind of miss that. But in order to be a regular anywhere, I guess you have to stick around for a while. “Pray for me Momma, I’m a Gypsy now.”
After I left the bar, I turned left to walk back to the hotel. I should have gone right. Of course, I didn’t realize this for several minutes and I got lost. It wasn’t a big deal because it’s not that big of a town. I turned around and found a sign for “Bus Parking”, and remembered that my truck was parked near the bus lot. So I followed the signs to the bus parking, and found my way back.
Now before you start accusing me of being drunk in a strange town … I got turned around on the same street the very next day (and I hadn’t had anything to drink). The problem in a strange town (especially a foreign strange town) is that you have very few landmarks. And the ones that you do have, you are not able to correlate to each other. i.e. you just don’t recognize where you are (or I didn’t anyway).
The next morning I went out to walk around Saverne for a while before heading up to the Chateau du Haut-Barr (it’s pronounced ho-bar and is the high point around here). I stumbled upon a flea market, and spent way too much time there. It was just like any flea market anywhere. People selling junk. Sure, there were probably some decent buys there, but I didn’t see anything that I needed. It was populated by the unwashed masses (literally), although they did have decent coffee there.
And that saying about French women not getting fat? Trust me, it’s just an old wives tale.
After the flea market, I walked up into Saverne’s pedestrian area and stopped at a bakery for a baguette. It was nice and warm, and as I walked I just started gnawing on it. Until I came to a small Moroccan Café, where I had to stop in for a merguez sandwich. Merguez is a thin spicy red sausage made from lamb. The sandwich was made of two pieces of the sausage, a little cheese, and French fries stuffed into a baguette. It was pretty tasty.
I left the town and drove up to le Chateau du Haut-Barr. This place is really nice, and has fantastic views. There are areas for hiking up around here and it would be a nice place to visit again. The Castle was a stronghold of the Bishops of Strasbourg at one point. From it you can look out over the Alsacien plain, and on a really clear day they say you can see the Cathedral in Strasbourg (about 30 km away).
It has some steps that rival the steepness of my old apartment at 6th and St Catherine in Louisville (although they are not as rickety).
And I loved the signs that basically said “be very careful”. In the US most of this would have been behind glass walls or chain link fence. I guess here a warning is enough.
There used to be a series of towers on the hilltops between Paris and Strasbourg that they used to communicate messages back and forth. I think I read something that said that they used lights to signal. This picture was taken from one of the towers and you can see at least two more in the distance. I guess it was l a lot like the old game of Post Office where a message is passed between a bunch of people. By the time it gets to the end it is something like “Pierre ate your mother’s goat”. I wonder how many wars were fought based on someone (or several someones) misinterpreting a message throughout this chain.
Anyway this is the restaurant with the foie gras that I was thinking about coming up to the day before. And I’m glad I didn’t because it would have been quite a hike.
All in all it was a good time. I just ordered this tent so I can cheaply stay at campgrounds around here. All I need is to get an air mattress and I’ll be set.
As always, there are more pics on my flickr page.
After I left the bar, I turned left to walk back to the hotel. I should have gone right. Of course, I didn’t realize this for several minutes and I got lost. It wasn’t a big deal because it’s not that big of a town. I turned around and found a sign for “Bus Parking”, and remembered that my truck was parked near the bus lot. So I followed the signs to the bus parking, and found my way back.
Now before you start accusing me of being drunk in a strange town … I got turned around on the same street the very next day (and I hadn’t had anything to drink). The problem in a strange town (especially a foreign strange town) is that you have very few landmarks. And the ones that you do have, you are not able to correlate to each other. i.e. you just don’t recognize where you are (or I didn’t anyway).
The next morning I went out to walk around Saverne for a while before heading up to the Chateau du Haut-Barr (it’s pronounced ho-bar and is the high point around here). I stumbled upon a flea market, and spent way too much time there. It was just like any flea market anywhere. People selling junk. Sure, there were probably some decent buys there, but I didn’t see anything that I needed. It was populated by the unwashed masses (literally), although they did have decent coffee there.
And that saying about French women not getting fat? Trust me, it’s just an old wives tale.
After the flea market, I walked up into Saverne’s pedestrian area and stopped at a bakery for a baguette. It was nice and warm, and as I walked I just started gnawing on it. Until I came to a small Moroccan Café, where I had to stop in for a merguez sandwich. Merguez is a thin spicy red sausage made from lamb. The sandwich was made of two pieces of the sausage, a little cheese, and French fries stuffed into a baguette. It was pretty tasty.
I left the town and drove up to le Chateau du Haut-Barr. This place is really nice, and has fantastic views. There are areas for hiking up around here and it would be a nice place to visit again. The Castle was a stronghold of the Bishops of Strasbourg at one point. From it you can look out over the Alsacien plain, and on a really clear day they say you can see the Cathedral in Strasbourg (about 30 km away).
It has some steps that rival the steepness of my old apartment at 6th and St Catherine in Louisville (although they are not as rickety).
And I loved the signs that basically said “be very careful”. In the US most of this would have been behind glass walls or chain link fence. I guess here a warning is enough.
There used to be a series of towers on the hilltops between Paris and Strasbourg that they used to communicate messages back and forth. I think I read something that said that they used lights to signal. This picture was taken from one of the towers and you can see at least two more in the distance. I guess it was l a lot like the old game of Post Office where a message is passed between a bunch of people. By the time it gets to the end it is something like “Pierre ate your mother’s goat”. I wonder how many wars were fought based on someone (or several someones) misinterpreting a message throughout this chain.
Anyway this is the restaurant with the foie gras that I was thinking about coming up to the day before. And I’m glad I didn’t because it would have been quite a hike.
All in all it was a good time. I just ordered this tent so I can cheaply stay at campgrounds around here. All I need is to get an air mattress and I’ll be set.
As always, there are more pics on my flickr page.
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