Achtung! looonnnggg post ahead!
Am disappointed to be missing a party I really wanted to be at, due to some weird flu-like things that render me useless in public, like fever and incredibly itchy and dry, bloodshot eyes. However, I AM celebrating the season by reading "apartment therapy" online and drinking beer grog.
One Saturday ritual I love is waking up to the sounds of CK making coffee, after which I hear the door squeaking and him returning with the paper, from which he tosses the Saturday magazine insert on the bed beside me. I get up to snag a big gorgeous mug made by Natalie, fill it with life-giving joe, and crawl back into bed with the Freizeit magazine. The photography is stunning, week by week I understand a bit more of the German too. I love the cooking section. Really. It is the part of magazines I HATE normally. But this one is SO GOOD. a) they have a half-page about what is in season right this second and what to do with it, its different names and types, and big pictures b) they have a "cooking for one" recipe that is fresh, using the produce they mentioned, and super simple, c) they have across the top of the page, cartoon-style, a children's item with clear pictures and simple directions--today it was making popcorn, which was weak, but normally it is something like baking an apple, or whisking up pudding from scratch, or making a simple salad. Then there is an article from a famous German chef whose equally famous restaurant got shut down cuz he was a cokehead, and, since Austria is very loosey-goosey about morality (just not the appearance of morality) and eminently practical, they immediately scooped him up to write a weekly column on food. So he will pick something apparently random, like horseradish, or celery root, or, again, whatever is in season, and write well, humourously, and knowledgeably about this thing. Then, there is the top 5 list. It is different weekly: where is the best Tafelspitz (boiled beef, served with Rösti and horseradish applesauce), Biergarten (summer, obviously) to where is the best Martini Gans'l (today's). November 11 is St. Martin's day (every day of the year has a saint assigned to it, and if you have a saint's name, you celebrate a mini-birthday on that day. It is your "saint's-day." On most calendars here the daily saint is mentioned. At several uBahn stations there are large-screen tvs where you watch the news clips while waiting for trains and they scroll through headlines, weather, and today's saint and the saint's basic info.
Naturally, some Saints are more famous than others. St. Martin, for some reason, requires a goose to be eaten on his name day, which is Nov. 11th. http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A17953608 So for the days around that day, Gans (diminunitive form in Austria: Gans'l is goose) is offered on all menus from every low-brow beer pub to high-end restaurants. And it is served with Blaukraut (red cabbage) and roasted chestnuts and dumplings and a lot of beer, or, wine if served in a wine tavern. It is delicious. We have reservations at a Buschenschank on the 14th, about 10 in the party. (Buschenschank is a Heuriger--wine tavern at a vineyard--where the bush is hung outside above the door to indicate open for business) We are going to Klüger's in Stammersdorf again this year, fabulous meal, fabulous wine, fabulous schnapps to ensure fabulous digestion of all that fabulousness.
The next big saint is St. Barbara.
We buy a Barbarabund at the market for her on Dec 4th or the Saturday before. This is a bunch of twigs for about 4 Euro. Bund is something that is bound, hence, bundle of sticks, bundle of flowers etc. You stick the twigs in a vase of water, and the twigs flower by Christmas Eve. St. B was being taken in a carriage by her father to meet her executioner when a twig from a tree got caught in her cloak and flowered before she reached the beheader. Her crime (about 306 a.d.) was converting to Christianity. St. B's life sucked, really, as she had already been locked in the tower by her merchant father who took off on a sales trip and kept her there for safekeeping for months while he was away. She had the servants cut 3 windows in her bathhouse to indicate the Trinity. Bad move for ensuring a long life, Babs. http://www.saintbarbara.org/about/frp_stbarb.cfm
all of which to say I am drinking Biergrog. Now I have had grog, and I have had beer, but this brings both out of the nosebleeds into the boxes. So this is what the Freizeit had on offer today in a sidebox:
125 g sugar ('bout 1/3 cup, can substitue stevia or whatever), 1
litre light beer (e.g.Pilsner or Budweiser) I used one non-alc and one regular,
1/2 cinnamon stick. Then heat the beer and sugar and cinnamon stick just to a boil and stir the whole time. When the sugar is dissolved turn off the heat and let it sit while you
beat 4 eggs and add 1 cup
(250 mL) rum to them. Then
whisk the eggs/rum with the beer/sugar/cinnamon and pour into glasses et voila! Biergrog! fun to say, fun to drink.
CK says that it is very good for colds and flu, and it is true, I am sweating profusely when moments ago I was shivering. Let the healing begin.
just watch out that you don't return it to heat, the eggs will get custardy in there. Not bad, just marginally chunky. Best to avoid. Serves 4 people who like grog, 6 who are being polite. Two of us.
When things drive me nutso about life here (difficulty galore with this impenetrable language, pushy, shovy, whiny, complaining people, obsession with what the neighbour is doing, courtesy-is-a-shameful-weakness and waiting for one's turn is for wimps) I then have moments where the richness of the traditions, the history, the fact that at our lokal the Napolese chef brought out his Russian coin from the 1700s to show us, then his Roman ones, (imagine! the hands that have touched these coins! the pockets they have jingled in!), and I go to the market-behind-the-market and pick up gorgeous firm pale green heads of cabbage, and tight heads of cauliflower, and the last of the season's farm tomatoes and red peppers. And I look for the first bunches of Barbarabund, and love life here again.
Biergrog, not just for flu anymore! bring your maudlin here!
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