Return-to-home reality, or a case of amnesia?

The return home after an extended period of travel is often marked as a difficult period – people feel that they have changed, yet everything else seems to have remained the same.

For me, my 14 months in Europe was not my first ‘big trip’ – that happened when I was a rather green 19 year old, and boy did I do a lot of growing up and soul searching during that adventure. I spent close to six months in the US working at a summer camp. After camp I bought a car with a couple of friends and ended up driving around the north-east of the country. When I came home from my trip, I was dismayed that while I had changed and grown, no-one seemed to recognise this, and I struggled a bit with the way I perceived myself versus the perception of others.

Thankfully this time around, none of that happened. These days I’m comfortable with myself, satisfied with my life and save a few minor things, happy to be home. It seems, however, that it is Melbourne that has changed and grown…


Melbourne: isn't she pretty? source

The return to Melbourne has signalled a return to work: paid employment, hallelujah!
Income really makes a difference to one’s life. After surviving 14 months without a pay-cheque, having money in the bank has made me frivolous. In the five weeks I’ve been back, the following establishments have thanked me for my patronage:

•  Hutong
• Dimitri’s Feast
• City Wine Store
• Porgie & Mr Jones
• DOC
• EARL Canteen
• The Langham Hotel (for tiffin!)
• Spice Temple
• North Cafeteria
• Café Esc.
• Lilo Café
• Get Down Dog Pizza
• The French Quarter (in spirit, thanks to a VERY good friend who has brought me TWO almond croissants since being back!); and
• Haigh’s (does this count?)

Spoilt! I have been absolutely spoilt. Prior to my departure, I had been budget girl: I brought my lunch to work every day and treated myself to a takeaway coffee once a week.

Even in Berlin, it was all about getting the most for the least: EU2.90 kebabs and currywurst, and occasionally a meal at our favourite Indian place, creatively called India, where we received entrees, mains, a batura bread and 500ml beer for EU15 each.

But back in the homeland, I’m glad I have a job and am no-longer on a budget, because Melbourne is expensive! Is this a recent development, or has my mind simply erased all my Melbourne dining experiences as a series of traumatic events?

After settling back in, I think I’m ready to start bringing out the camera at meal times and recording some of the great food this city of mine has to offer. Of course, Chin Chin is high on the list of places to visit, in addition to Pony Fish, Coin Laundry, Grace Darling, Union Dining, St Katherines…oh my, when’s my next pay-cheque?

We have now officially been back in Melbourne for a month, and I cannot believe that I’m STILL going on the dregs of our road trip around Germany (and Austria).

I promised a glimpse at the bier halls of Munich, and a glimpse you will get!

See? That there is the Augustine Bier Hall in Munich. Mr von S ate Schweine Haxe (pork knuckle) and I had Maul Taschen (like giant ravioli). Bier was consumed – some more than others. As the sole driver on the tour de Deutschland, I was responsible (read: freaking out about driving on the wrong side of the road in what should be the passenger seat, going 140 km/h). It seemed like there were actually very few tourists, as the bier halle is actually not in the city centre, but rather a part of the factory in the suburbs. Groups of older gentleman sat with their Mass glasses along wooden benches, ‘prost’ing and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Our stop in Munich was brief – we had actually been to Munich twice before for Oktoberfest in September last year. With our grand total of visits to Munich totalling three, I still can’t say I’ve seen anything except the inside of a bier halle/bier tent. Although many would say that’s all there is to see in the city.

From Munich we left Germany and headed for Austria, a country that I could not return to Melbourne without seeing. For me, Austria had two main draw cards: The Sound of Music and The Spanish Riding School.

In Salzburg, we boarded a big old tour bus and became the type of tourists we despise –I had the best time (cannot speak for Mr von S). As a child, I watched The Sound of Music as often as I could. I knew almost every song and whole paragraphs of dialogue. At one stage, I even found old scraps of fabric and created bandanas as Fraulein Maria had for the children.

On the Sound of Music Tour I saw the green hills – alive with the sound of music – the bluer than blue skies, the abbey, the gardens, the von Trapp family home, I saw it all. I was one very happy von Strudel (and there wasn’t even food involved!). The area around Salzburg is the prettiest I have ever seen. Even when The Sound of Music was brought out in technicolour, it couldn’t prepare you for the stunning natural beauty of ice-blue glacial lakes, grass so green it hurts your eyes and little towns of gingerbread houses.

Salzburg: birth place of Wolfgang Amadeus von Mozart and his confectionary namesake, the Mozartkugel These little suckers are sold seemingly everywhere in Austria, and are even readily available in Germany too. Pistachio marzipan covered in chocolate nougat – remember the Schneeballen from Heidelberg?

On to Vienna. Oh Vienna, you gorgeous city, you. Remnants of the city’s history as a centre of culture and enlightenment are evident throughout the city. The well-maintained and grand buildings speak of bygone eras when philosophers and intellects sat in coffee houses for hours, where the first steps of its namesake waltz were taken, and where Princess Sisi won the hearts of the people (even if she didn’t return the love).

Top of the list in Vienna, apart from visiting the Spanish Riding School – I had the best time (cannot speak for Mr von S) – was to sit and have coffee and consume some Sachertorte. We walked for a while before coming across a Konditerei that offered the tort. Strangely, for a cake which originates in the city, it was a bit difficult to find. The search paid off handsomely and deliciously. If only the service at Gerstner could be described so glowingly.

The Sachertorte consists of two layers of dense, not overly sweet chocolate cake with a thin layer of apricot jam in the middle and is covered in a dark chocolate ganache. According to tradition, it should be served with whipped cream as apparently most Viennese consider the Sachertorte too ‘dry’ to be eaten on its own. I just think that the Austrians, much like Germans, just really like cream.

In addition to the Sachertorte, we also tried a Haustorte – an almond cake with chocolate cream. Given I don’t really like cream, this one didn’t go down so well. The cream to cake ratio definitely favoured the former, so much so I was surprised the cake managed to hold its shape.

Of the two cakes, the Sacher was our favourite – while apricot jam is not what I usually spread on my toast, I think in future I shall certainly be spreading it upon my cakes.

xo Fifi

A holy moment with snowballs

Greetings from sunny Melbourne. In fact, Melbourne in Spring is actually sunnier and warmer than Berlin was this Summer. But c'est la vie, or should I say so ist das Leben.

So I left you all hanging for Schneeballen, which we were told to look for in Rothenburg ob der Tauber, but actually found in the gorgeous university town of Heidelberg. The pastry derives its name its shape and size – round and roughly the size of a large snowball.

We first spied these delicacies of the region in the main tourist strip, in more than one touristy-looking shop. Schneeballen of all varieties were lined up in a six-by-six display, enticing people from the street to come in and sample.

the variety of schneeballen on display

Overwhelmed by choice, we took a while to decide which we would buy. The traditional flavour is a simple dusting of powdered sugar while still hot, however we chose one with cinnamon sugar and one with pistachio and marzipan (almost like a Mozartkugel, but in the form of a schneeball). We took possession of our treats and hurried away to eat them on a church step of all places. I would soon find that this was rather fitting.

Biting into a schneeball is rather difficult to do. We should know, we tried. Rather, it is easier to break the pastry apart, which is rather easy to do given how it is constructed. Without being told, Mr von S and I concluded that the schneeball would have first come about from the off-cuts of other pastries. The good German people, ever frugal and resourceful, saw opportunity in the off-cuts and thus the schneeball was born. Tasting like a cross between Italian crustoli and shortbread, the schneeball in its dough form is cut with a crinkle roller, and then roughly formed into a ball before being deep fried for half a minute. The result is a golden-brown biscuit which is then seasoned in a variety of ways.

The cinnamon sugar schneeball tasted very much like a normal biscuit/shortbread. The pieces fell apart easily and we picked our way through the ball looking for the best-seasoned pieces. The pistachio marzipan schneeball was a much messier affair. Half covered in milk chocolate, we had to be a bit smarter about eating this specimen on such a warm day. In search of the marzipan heart, I picked through the jigsaw of pastry in search of the ultimate piece which had both elements of chocolate and marzipan.

chocolate, pistachio and marzipan

My earlier mention of Mozartkugel was then apt, as the taste of the schneeball mimicked aspects of the Austrian confectionery. The initial crunch of biscuit was pleasant enough, but with the addition of milk chocolate AND pistachio AND marzipan, the schneeball quickly became too rich. After thanking God for creating the schneeball in a country I would soon be leaving (seriously, if these things were in Australia, I would be in trouble), I managed to get half way through my now-sticky mess before calling it quits.

If you're ever in Heidelburg or Rothenburg ob der Taube, you'll notice the homeless people are all rather plump most likely owing to the fact that tourists like me could never possibly finish an entire schneeball in one sitting!

Next...a quick stop in Munich for lunch at the Augustine beer hall.

xox Fifi

Essen from Hessen: Frankfurt

In our share house, we live with a guy who is from Frankfurt (am Main, not Oder). So when we found ourselves in the city, not only were we prepared for the skyscrapers – something rarely seen in Germany – we were also ready for the experience that is Handkäse.

Hand cheese. Not the most appetising name; and if the name doesn't put you off, then perhaps the sight will. Given its name for the way in which it is traditionally formed – by hand – this sour milk cheese resembles a piece of translucent, yellow fat. I'm not kidding.

Fat: yellow and gelatinous (source)

Hand cheese: translucent and waxy

Given that the two things we knew we had to try were this horrible-sounding cheese, and its less offensive matching beverage, Ebbelwoi (dialect for Apfelwein – cider) we went head first and ordered both at a little Biergarten specialising in the regional cuisine. We also each ordered schnitzel chasers.

The Ebbelwoi came out first. As we both love cider, we knew that this would be a beverage we would like. The glasses soon formed condensation due to the lovely weather, and we happily sipped our cider, waiting for the scary part.

Roughly the size of a doughnut, our Handkäse mit Musik – hand cheese with finely chopped onion on top, came floating in a bath of oil and vinegar, and a served slice of rye bread. I was pleasantly surprised I didn't want to gag, despite the pungency of the offering. In fact, once in my mouth, it was quite nice – the texture somewhat waxy and finishing off with a taste similar to Camembert. Washed down with a gulp of cider, the whole experience wasn't too bad.

Mr von S's Schnitzel mit Speck und Zwiebeln

Next, our schnitzels. Mr von S ordered his with bacon and onion with a side of roast potatoes. I ordered the Frankfurter schnitzel, which came served with roast potatoes, a side salad and Grüne Soße (green sauce). I took a punt on this one, and the result was interesting. The sauce was very green, and to me tasted overwhelmingly like parsley and not much else. But according to wikipedia “The Frankfurt-style [of green sauce] is made from hard-boiled eggs, oil, vinegar, salt, and generous amount of seven fresh herbs, namely borage, sorrel, garden cress, chervil, chives, parsley, and salad burnet.” Hm. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure my sauce did not include chervil nor borage – only parsley. Despite the fact that the sauce is served cold, I quite enjoyed it, and liked the freshness it added to the otherwise heavy meal.

My Schnitzel - with green sauce.

The schnitzels were well cooked and much better than any pub schnitzel or parma I've had – and a fraction of the price – at €7.00 each, I don't know I'll ever be able to order a sub-standard parma for AU$20.00 again.

After a second glass of cider, we enjoyed a very slow stroll around Frankfurt, feeling rundum wohl and full of Gemütlichkeit.

Next: the beautiful university town, Heidelberg and Schneeballen

xoxo Fifi

Little French bread: Franzbrötchen

I hope everyone has recovered after the breaking news of my previous post. But it's true, the von Strudel's have just over a week until it's time to say Auf Wiedersehen to Berlin, and I'm trying to get as much in (my mouth) as possible before we leave. Eat, drink, be merry, for in Melbourne, ye diet.

Knowing that our time in Europe was limited, Mr von S and I set about organising a road-trip through Germany and neighbouring Austria. After our amazing camping success at Melt! Festival, we thought we would save money and 'commune with German nature' by camping. Ambitious? Perhaps. Worth the crick in the back? Maybe. Would I do it again? Certainly!

With a rough itinerary planned, we set off from Berlin on a Thursday. Remembering that I haven't driven a car in over a year, we had hired a manual VW Polo, stuffed it full of everything we thought we'd need, and set off on the German Autobahn. Very slowly. First stop, Hamburg.

Hanseatic Hamburg, as it is known, is a city that I've visited before. In fact, 11 years before. As a slightly bewildered school girl, I spent three months on exchange in a town just south of Hamburg, called Luneburg. Trading in a summer for my first white winter, I managed to gorge myself on marzipan, Pommes mit Mayo (fries with mayonnaise) and McFlurrys of all things. I arrived back in the heat of Melbourne's summer (and the start of the rowing season, oops!) quite a few kilos heavier than I left. I guess some things never change :)

Luneburg's Am Sande

Never-the-less, the last time I was in Hamburg was a long time ago, and a refresher visit was much anticipated.

Our trip to Hamburg also included a visit to our friend Kata's house. She cooked us a lovely meal (we got her recipe for a great casserole, which will likely feature on this blog some time in the near future) and gave me some great foody tips on what I should try in each region. In Hamburg, apart from the famous Niederegger Marzipan from Lubeck, we were urged to try a pastry called Franzbrötchen, and tried it we did, the very next day.

According to Wiki, the Franzbrötchen was probably named after the French (in German französisch) bread roll (brötchen) the croissant, which became popular in Germany after Napoleon's troops occupied Hamburg between 1806-1814. The Franzbrötchen is essentially a sweet, yeast-based pastry, which is more bread-like (or even doughnut-like) than flakey. Filled with sugar and cinnamon, the Franzbrötchen can be topped with pumpkin seeds, cinnamon, poppy seeds, or as I chose, streusel.

Streusel Franzbrötchen

Upon first bite, I compared the texture to another baked good I've been coveting of late, Streuselschnecke (literally streusel snail) – the similarities extend to the texture: bready and almost doughnut-like, and the shared streusel topping: a crunchy, biscuit-like covering. Of course, what really sets the two apart is not only the shape of each pastry, but also the Franzbrötchen's heart of cinnamon and sugar. After biting into the pastry, this layer is a welcome surprise, and achieved by sprinkling the rolled dough with the Zimt und Zucker mixture, and then folding in to shape.

At 70 Euro cents a piece, and with a variety of toppings, the Franzbrötchen is dangerously affordable. Good thing for my hips we won't be visiting Hamburg again for a while!

Next stop, Frankfurt: Handkäse mit Musik and Apfelwein.

xox Fifi

I'm baaack!

Hi friends,

source

So, the reason (I have one this time!) for not posting for over two weeks, is because I was on a 'research' trip: a two week road-trip through Germany and Austria. Given this was our last trip through to continent before we head back to Melbourne (you heard it hear first) I took the opportunity to taste my way around the region, and for your sakes, possibly gained a kilo or two. But, all in the name of research!

I ate schnitzel, I drank Ebbelwoi, I tasted Schneeballen, I consumed Sachertorten. And you shall read all about it in the coming weeks!

So stay tuned for some saliva-inducing reads. You may want to ready some napkins, to, you know, save embarrassment ;)

With love,

Fifi xoxo

As cute as a Knickelkopp

In the back of my mind, a clock is ticking. My Berlin hourglass drips grain after grain of sand, I know that time is running out. There won't be another white Christmas – in any case, we've already sent our thick coats back home to Melbourne, where we shall join them in just under a month.

In the past ten months, we have certainly done a lot in Berlin, but there are still a few lingering points we are yet to cross off our 'to-do' list: ride our bikes along the Mauerweg, the path of the former wall, explore more abandoned spaces such as a paediatric sanatorium and Nazi training camp or even go barbecuing (called grillen auf Deutsch) on a nice day – I guess we're just waiting on the nice day ;)

I did, however, manage to cross one thing off my list this weekend.

We are fortunate to be located in Kreuzberg – a really great suburb in the inner-south of Berlin (yes like the Bloc Party song). We live within walking distance of Tempelhof: an abandoned airport (now public park), Hasenheide: a lovely 50 hectare park, and Viktoriapark: home of Berlin's highest natural point and great place to catch some sun on a nice day/go sledding when it snows. When we first arrived in our area, we did some exploring, and really enjoyed visiting Viktoriapark and climbing to the very top of the hill. At any time of day, but especially sunset, people walk to the peak and have a beer or two while taking in the view.

After visiting the park a few times, I began to take in the surrounds. En route, we would walk past a little sunken cafe with the cutest name ever: Knickelkopp. Each time we walked past, I would grab Mr von S's arm and tell him how cute the place looked. He soon grew tired of me telling him how cute the place was and put it to me: pick a day, and we'll go. It only took me nine months to pick the day!

Berlin's current wasp invasion forced us to sit inside the cafe, despite the unusually nice weather.

The cafe's décor is adorable – retro, 1950s style furnishings, gingham linens and a touch of shabby chic. Call it twee, but I love it!

even the menus are cute!

The little handmade menus are filled with breakfast options, from muesli, fruit salad with quark, waffles and eggs, along with lunch options, such as sandwiches, salads and quiches. The drinks list is complete with teas, juices, sodas, beers, prosecco and coffee every way you can imagine. Scattered throughout the menu are old-fashioned images of the owner's grandmother and great grandmother, who looked to have been bakers of all things sweet back in the day. And it seems the gene for baked good has carried. The cake display boasts several different types of Torte und Kuchen, making deciding which one to order difficult. I finally chose the Käsekuchen (cheesecake made with quark) with a chai latte, and Mr von S ordered a Belgian waffle and hot chocolate.

chai latte, complete with chocolate freckle; totally digging the retro saucer.

Our drinks came served with a chocolate freckle, as I squealed for the umpteenth time how 'cute' everything was. Yes, I was overloaded by the cuteness, and Mr von S was overloaded by how many times I used the word 'cute'. Hm. Anyway, my chai was sprinkled generously with cinnamon sugar and was more a chai tea than the traditional syrupy-sweet chais that I am used to getting in Berlin. I felt the chai lacked spiciness and visually resembled dishwater; and while it made me feel somewhat more wholesome to not have my teeth ache with every sip, some sweetness would not have gone awry.

Likewise, the Mr felt that his hot chocolate could use a dose of Zucker. I think he may have actually received a hot cocoa rather than a hot chocolate, which is rather popular in Germany, especially laden with cream.

hot Belgian waffle

On to the eats. Mr von S was thoroughly pleased with his Belgian waffle, which had filled the little cafe with the most wonderful smell while we were waiting. Light and slightly eggy, as a Belgian waffle should be, it was served hot with a dusting of powdered sugar. My Käsekuchen had the texture of a baked cheesecake – dense, yet almost crumbly. German cheesecake, which is made with quark, has far less sugar than the typical New York cheesecake. This can be a welcome difference, as I usually struggle to finish this type of cake owing to its density and sweetness.

German cheesecake

Overall, the atmosphere of Knickelkopp won me over. The owner, who also plays waitress, is such a sweet lady, and you can really see that the cafe is her baby. I feel that if I were to ever open a cafe, it would mimic the design and feel of this cute – there's the word again - cafe, and even for that alone, I would make a return visit.

xox Fifi