Raspberry Picking and My Berlin Kitchen

Well kids, I’m back in Colorado. Since coming home (after a brief hiccup auf dem Weg that involved staying a night in Chicago) I’ve been toddling all over the place visiting friends and seeing family who I haven’t been around since January. This past weekend I went to Aspen, where Laura and I took pictures while we were picking raspberries at my grandfather’s farm. It was pouring rain for most of the day, but things cleared up enough by the evening that we could tromp through the bushes in relative comfort, minus occasional glances into the neighboring brush to make sure that the black bear who had been coming around wasn’t about to try and get in on the raspberry fun.

Raspberries are my favorite berry, and it has been a very long time since I got to pick some myself! Since I can finally dig out my baking supplies from storage while I’m back, I think these razzies are going to find their way into some kind of vanilla-custard tart. Maybe even with a touch of Elderflower to boot! We’re also going to pick up some apricots on the way home today, and I think this jam will be just the ticket. Summer baking, here I come!

On a literary note, I also finally got the chance to read My Berlin Kitchen after finding it waiting for me serendipitously on my aunt’s bookshelf. It’s the book that developed from the delightful food blog The Wednesday Chef, written by a woman named Luisa Weiss who grew up in West Berlin. People. I LOVED this book. Maybe it was the Berlin homesickness kicking in (get it together Heidi, it’s been less than a week) or maybe it was seeing so many German recipes that one rarely finds in America gathered in one place, but I devoured this book with gusto. It’s a memoir with recipes, meaning that Luisa tells stories about her experiences growing up stretched across continents and cultures. Some parts of the book I wanted to point out to anyone who would listen- “Look! Look at this! Do you realize how important that sentence is?! That is exactly how I felt in Germany! This helped define my life for a while!” and some parts reminded me so accurately of Berlin that I could hear the sounds she was describing as I read (the noise that cars make driving over cobblestones really is something unique). Anyway, I have to recommend this book to anyone who likes cooking, who has lived abroad for any length of time, or who just enjoys the ways in which travel and food and different parts of the world can mix so splendidly. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

This week I am going to work on some sewing projects (I don’t know if I warned you before I left- I had crafty PLANS for being in America, y’all!) and try and finish up a paper for one of my classes. This German academic scheduling can be a blessing and a curse!

Grüß di Bayern! Back in Munich.

At the end of June Emily came to visit! It was so exciting to have her finally see what I’ve been up to for the past couple o’ years. And see what I’ve been up to she did- we started out in Munich, where we explored the city and went to Garmisch and Ludwig’s most famous castles (Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau) and then continued on to Berlin, where, as we know, there are a million and one things for a visitor to see.

We hit all my old haunts in München- Pommes, Weisses Bräuhaus, Killian’s- and walked a lot, despite a few days of rainy-ish weather. It was so strange- it felt as though no time had passed since I left the city almost a year ago. It was, however, very cool to see a lot of construction that was going on the entire time I lived there had been finished- there’s a really nice park behind the Rathaus now AND the scaffolding has been taken off one of the spires of the Frauenkirche! It was nice to finally get a real look at that church.

Other highlights of our wanderings (seriously, we walked A LOT) included the Englischer Garten, Schloss Nymphenburg, the Neue Pinakothek, Ballabeni ice cream (da BEST in Munich), and climbing Alter Peter, of course!

I enjoyed Munich a lot more not having to live in Studentenstadt (what a surprise, eh?). It’s amazing how much your living situation can influence your experience of a place. Germany is awesome in the summer, and it’s even more awesome when you don’t have to live in 40-year-old miniature dorm rooms. Plus, being somewhere with someone who hasn’t been there before made me see things with newer eyes, too.

I’m leaving Germany tomorrow… for now it’s back to some frantic packing! Happy Monday!

Zee Farmers of Northern Germany

During my last trip to Hamburg we stopped by Kiekeberg, a historical village. Much like historical villages in the States, this one was full of lots of small children, farm animals, and a lot of exclamations of “But did they REALLY live this way?!” It was a great time.

I really like going to Hamburg because I know so little about Northern Germany but my extensive knowledge of Bavaria means that I can participate in all the jokes about Bavaria that get made. It works out perfectly- in Bayern I can talk about how much I love it there and how dirty of a city Berlin is, but in Berlin (and the rest of Germany, where Bavaria is pretty uniformly mocked for their pomp and general conservatism) I can talk about how homogeneous and kind of hoity-toity the Müncheners are. Both statements are at least a little true- Berlin isn’t about to win any beauty contests, and diversity in Bavaria isn’t really their strong suit (believe me,they already have many others) and for me most of the mocking is all in good fun- I’ve enjoyed both places immensely.

So on that note, if there’s one thing that brings together Germans of all creeds, it’s mocking the accents and dialects of the Germans of yore. At Kiekeberg, there were signs all over in Plattdeutsch– a kind of country bumpkin German that, to your average Hochdeutsch (high German) speaker (and Hamburg has, in my inexpert opinion, some of the most pure and easy-t0-understand Hochdeutsch I’ve ever heard) is roughly equivalent to an accent from the deep South in the United States.

The houses (or more specifically, house/barn combinations) were very beautiful, with large thatched roofs and tidy, bright colors in some cases. This whole thatching thing is very environmentally friendly, and, when done correctly, can last for a really long time! It is, however, a serious fire danger, so buildings with these charming coverings are insanely expensive to insure. In this style, the living quarters and barn were combined under one roof, making chores in the winter no problem (you would literally have to walk into the next room to get everything done for the day) and harnessing the warmth of the fireplace and animal body heat in one space. If I’m not mistaken, similar layouts were used by European settlers in the United States back in the day- I seem to remember Laura Ingalls Wilder writing about how scandalous this type of setup seemed to her pioneer family when they passed by a settlement.

Anyway, Kiekeberg was an interesting experience- it made me realize how little I know about German history outside of former monarchs and the Third Reich. What were normal Germans up to in the 18th and 19th centuries? I really ought to investigate further. For now, der Countdown läuft- A little over a week left in Germany!

Sicilian Gelato Adventures

Emily visited me in Germany a little over a week ago, which was awesome! We did (understatement alert) A LOT, so many pictures are coming your way of our travels. One of her most common observations was how focused I have become on food, which I think is perfectly reasonable, but seems to be a little wacky to outsiders. I am not ashamed! I will stand tall for all that is sugar-filled and bread-coated! Especially when that thing is delicious, delicious Sicilian gelato.
I’m going to make this short: Everything you have ever heard about how amazing gelato is in Italy is a lie because the word amazing does not convey the pure bliss that is this frozen godliness. And in Sicily, they make your dessert (or, let’s be real, lunch/breakfast) even BETTER by PUTTING THE ICE CREAM IN BREAD. People. This is a revolution that needs to make its way to America. Sicilian gelato in a brioche is easily one of the most satisfying things I have ever eaten with zero remorse. My favorite flavors were stracciatella and pistachio, both of which I had multiple times over the course of the trip. Moral of the story: Somebody needs to find the inspirational Italian who thought of putting his ice cream in bread and give him medal, a standing ovation, and an American visa- I need this stuff at home!

Slowly Saying Goodbye to Berlin.

“One should always have something to look forward to.”

A few days ago, I started packing up the things that I wanted to keep when I left for Berlin. Things that I don’t use in the summer- dress shirts. Mugs. The blanket I bought in Turkey. My bean boots. My German-American friendship pin. Sweaters. While I pack, I pick up my suitcase occasionally to see how heavy it’s getting.

Pretty heavy.

Berlin feels like a two-part movie. Part I: Girl is Enormously Happy, Despite Winter. Part II: Girl is Momentarily Disoriented By Being a Student Again.

This has been my longest stretch away from the U.S. at 7 months (side note: one thing I’ve learned from study abroad is to try not to judge people for the length of their stay in a place. As long as you’re spending time where you’re happy and expanding your horizons, who cares if it’s 5 or 5,000 miles away from where you grew up?) and I’m excited and sad as usual to be heading back to America.

I’ve already starting filling out forms and prepping for life in the U.K. (I’m heading to Bath in September for my next Semester of TAM) and it’s pretty cool to know that I’m 50% done with grad school. Yay! Er… minus the ~30 pages of papers I need to write over my break. I’ll deal with those in a few weeks.

For now, it’s time to close up shop- shutting down my German bank account, tossing all the receipts that have been collecting on my desk, and meeting with professors so that I can write my papers from the States. I feel like I don’t have enough time for anything, yet here I am, blogging away. Tomorrow and Friday I’m going to hit up my last few Berlin sights- Hamburger Bahnhof, Postdam (I promised, Andrew!) and maybe even the Stasi Museum. Who knows… I might even have to throw in a Spree boat tour too.

Happy Wednesday, folks. Make it a good one.

Trapani and Salt from the Sea

One thing that is always a good idea while you’re on vacation is renting a bike. There is not much that is more satisfying than getting sort of sweaty while seeing the sights, especially if it comes with a basket. In Sicily, Morgan and I took a day trip to Trapani- about an hour away from Palermo– to expand our Sicilian horizons. We had a half plan to eat some cous-cous (Morgs did, but I got a seafood pasta dish instead) and maybe check out a beach if there was one. Instead of lazing about, we decided that a thrilling idea would be to go see where the wonderful people of Trapani have been making salt from seawater pretty much since the dawn of time. When we made this decision, we were under the impression that going to see the salt pans (as a quick google search has just taught me that they are called, versus “salt flats”, which I had been calling them) was a hip, cool thing to do. In fact, the nice young lady at the tourist information center (who actually pointed us to the tasty lunch mentioned above) answered our questions about visiting the salt pans readily, as though it was a perfectly normal thing to go stare at a few inches of extra-salty water in this part of the country.

Maybe we should have been concerned when she gave us her cell phone number in case we were going to take the bus and got stuck (because the bus back into town wouldn’t stop unless someone wanted to get off at the stop we were going to need), or perhaps a flag should have been raised when she casually commented that most people made the 5 km trip by car. Either way, we were set on having a biking adventure (at least, I was set on having a biking adventure, and Morgs was coming along for the ride) and we saddled ourselves up on two creaky old mountain bikes for just 4 euros a piece. Undeterred by a crooked pedal and some questionably attached baskets, we set off for the salt pans, unaware of the sunny and lengthly journey we were about to embark on.

Our hip and youthful tourist helper had said, with a note of pride in her voice, that there was a path specifically for bikes along our route and that it would be no problem to bike to the pans and the accompanying museum. Indeed, there was a bike path- but one that had certainly seen better days, and whose cracked and dirty surface provided its own obstacles as we attempted to ignore the cars whizzing by us under the midday sun. As we pedaled deeper and deeper into the countryside surrounding Trapani, we did indeed find informational plaques about the salt pans, but what we did not find was a single other person out on a bike or on a mission to see them like we were. It was actually quite fun to see the rural part of Sicily- we pasted olive groves and vineyards along our way, as well as a cute donkey and numerous, seemingly unending stretches of shallow, tepid salt water.

By the time we got to the Salt Museum (just about the only thing to do in the teeny tiny village-like area that we had pedaled out to) we were pretty tired but happy to have gotten to the main attraction of the day. We then spent about a half an hour with some older Swiss people being entertained by a blue-eyed Sicilian who explained in some very-broken-but-well-mimed English the history of salt production in the area. Turns out that they actually used a lot of cool tools to gather sea salt back in the day- giant wooden windmills to grind up the salt, Archimedes screws to slowly-but-surely pump water into the various ponds, and huge numbers of workers who slaved away under a hot sun and over reflective (and sometimes, tragically, blinding) layers of salt to coax the valuable substance out of the seawater.

On our bike ride home, we stopped by a lonely grocery store to pick up a liter of water, half of which we downed standing in the parking lot. The industrial parks were went through on our way back into town kind of reminded me of a post-apocalyptic world- devoid of humans and slightly scorched (although this time by the sun, not by laser guns or some other futuristic method of destruction). Our efforts were rewarded with heaping amounts of gelato and a nice walk along the Mediteranean, which never ceases to amaze with its variety of blues. At the end of the day we caught the bus back to Palermo just in time by frantically waving down the bus driver, and enjoyed the ride back in a vehicle that didn’t involve pedals or questionable gear shifts.

Project 365: June 2013

June 1: A long run all the way to the Tiergarten.