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Crispy Duck Breast

2012-01-23T18:43:00.004+01:00

The Bloggerboy family is very critical about food. Lately, I have been charged with preparing meat dishes to perfection, a daunting task. Last night I took a stab at pan-fried Barbary duck breasts for five persons. The main criticisms of the duck that has been served at our household in the past are: 1. too tough; 2. overcooked; 3. the skin is not crispy enough. I have spent over an hour on the web reading up on how best to prepare the breasts. Unfortunately, I did not find two overlapping opinions, just similar approaches. Here is my synthesis of what I found on the web.

1. Pre-heat your oven to 180 degrees Celsius (convection).

2. Wash the breasts and dry them well with paper towels.

3. Allow them to come to room temperature before frying.

4. Score the breasts on the fat side. Don't cut into the meat, just the skin.

5. Sprinkle the skin side with salt and pepper. You can add a fair bit of salt to the skin side.

6. Use medium low heat and put the breasts in skin-side down before the pan gets fully hot.

7. Add salt and pepper to the other side of the breasts.

8. Fry the breasts at medium-low heat, draining the fat at regular intervals. It takes about ten to twelve minutes for the skin to turn deep golden brown.

9. Turn the breasts and remove the frying pan from the stove and place it in the oven for six to eight minutes.

10. Remove the breasts from the oven and place them in a warm pan on the stove to rest and stay warm for about five minutes.

I fried the breasts for ten minutes and took them out of the oven after six. After resting, they were medium rare with just a bit of juice coming out when sliced. I guess I could have let them fry or bake for an extra minute or two, but we all prefer medium-rare to medium, so no one complained. The meat was tender. Two down, one to go. The skin was crispy, but I think that the resting period resulted in condensation or moisture on the skin, so it was not as crispy as it might have been. Most of the fat had been rendered, which was good.

For my next try, I am thinking of two alternatives: 1. leave the breasts skin-side down in the oven to increase crispiness; 2. put the breasts under the broiler for a minute right before serving to re-heat the outer surface of the breast and increase crispiness. Does anyone have any thoughts on this?

This is the second time that I've used an oven to finish off a meat dish, and I find the results quite good. The last time I fried an inexpensive rump steak at high heat for two minutes on each side and then let it settle in the pan in the oven for ten minutes at only 80 degrees Celsius. It was wonderfully red all the way through, but hardly any juices leaked after the steak was cut. The resting really does allow the meat to reabsorb the juices.

Stepping Stones

2012-01-18T11:23:00.000+01:00

I really liked this sidewalk near the cathedral in Basel

Hard Bop

2012-01-18T11:03:00.002+01:00

Last night we met some friends at Frankfurt's famous Jazz Keller (Jazz Cellar) to hear the Tony Lakatos Quintett with Lakatos on tenor saxophone and featuring Axel Schlosser on trumpet and flugelhorn. Michael Flügel played piano, accompanied by Thomas Heidepriem, a Jazz Keller regular, on bass and Jean-Paul Höchtädter on drums. The quintett is listed under the rubric "hard bop", and that is what they delivered. For an EUR 12 entrance fee, we were treated to two sets of high-quality jazz, mostly compositions by Tony Lakatos, who hails from a prominent line of Hungarian musicians. Both Lakatos and Schlosser took their instruments to the limits of what can be done with them, all the while working within strictly-controlled parameters of the song context. They harmonized excellently before taking turns with eloquent soli. Michael Flügel on piano also was quite impressive. The Jazz Keller is a tiny cellar. There were maybe 75 people in the audience, a full house. You don't need to possess great math skills to understand how much love for music has to be present to perform at such a high level on a Tuesday evening for little pay.

Tony Lakatos

Swiss Doors

2012-01-16T17:33:00.002+01:00

These pictures were taken in the Old Town of Basel. I've always been fascinated with the details on entranceways in Europe. You really have to slow down when walking through the old parts of cities to avoid missing many beautiful details.

Seen in Basel

2012-01-16T17:21:00.000+01:00

A Creative Bicycle Seat Cover

Naumburg Cathedral

2012-01-11T22:31:00.001+01:00

Romanesque Entrance

Eastern Rood Screen

Detail of Western Rood Screen

Founders Ekkehard II and Ute

(Ute was used as the model for the evil Queen

in Disney's Snow White)

View From Cloister Courtyard

The Naumburg Cathedral is particularly famous for its series of sandstone sculptures by the Naumburg Master on the western rood screen and in the western choir. These really are masterpieces of the Middle Ages. The details show individual character, something more closely associated with the Renaissance. From the oldest Romanesque parts of the cathedral to the Late Romanesque and Early Gothic parts, one gains a sense of the human spirit coming alive. We were lucky to catch a good tour of the cathedra, which started a half-hour late, just in time for us to arrive and buy tickets. As much as I admire the famous Gothic cathedrals, I love to visit older Romanesque churches and cathedrals.

Naumburg

2012-01-11T12:22:00.002+01:00

The Naumburger Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul

The Main Square

St. Wenzel's Protestant Church Behind the Main Square

A House Still in Need of Renovation

You can read up on Naumburg at Wikipedia here. Because of its proximity to Weimar and Leipzig, I definitely recommend taking a side trip to see the town and the Cathedral if you are in the vicinity. The main shopping street begins right outside the Cathedral and runs uphill past the main square. There are plenty of shops, cafes, restaurants and hotels to choose from.

Leipzig or Bust

2012-01-09T17:53:00.001+01:00

We had a great trip to Leipzig on Saturday to visit the Beckmann portrait exhibit. Beckmann was born in Leipzig. More details will follow later. We stopped off in Naumburg on the way to visit the Late-Romanic / Early-Gothic Cathedral.

New Year's Exhibits

2012-01-03T14:59:00.006+01:00

We got the year off to a good start by walking into town on January 1st and visiting three exhibits at the Schirn Museum. First we visited the Ed and Nancy Kienholz Exhibit. This was the first time I had seen any of their work. I felt immediately at home with the installations. Some of them are quite harsh; others are humorous. When I walked into the American den installation, with its dark wooden paneling and spare sofa and end table, I felt transported back to my childhood.

The Bally Playboy pinball machine that was used for the work shown above was the same type that I spent many hours playing during my undergraduate years. Here is a link to a photo of The Ozymandias Parade, an installation that was inspired by a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley and that was the highlight of the exhibit. It still is a timely reflection on the arrogance of the political classes around the world.

Next, we went to see a smaller exhibit in the same building by Erró, an artist from Iceland who lives in Paris.

The tableaux were large and contained an incredible number of details from daily life, ranging from comic and action figures to consumer products to fish and fowl: modern and cluttered still lives. The Foodscape shown above was painted in 1964, and the products (barely visible here but painted in great detail) shown at the top of the painting were a daily part of our lives.

Finally, we went to see the exhibit by Icelandic artist Gabriela Fridriksdottir entitled Crepusculum. The exhibit was specially-commissioned by the Schirn in connection with the 2011 Frankfurt Book Fair, which featured literature from Iceland. Additionally, several medieval Icelandic manuscripts were on display in the same room.

Once again, the Schirn Museum, under the direction of Max Hollein, with its continuously-changing series of smaller, traveling exhibits, greatly enriches our lives here in Frankfurt. We went to grab a cup of coffee afterwards and then walked home, intent on burning off a few of our excess holiday calories on the way.

2012 -- Year of the Train

2012-01-02T11:48:00.005+01:00

Indeed we are going to make it to the other two Beckmann exhibits. I purchased a "BahnCard 25" from the Deutsche Bahn and then booked two trips, one to Leipzig and one to Basel. With the BahnCard 25, the round trip tickets are affordable enough to compete with travel by car. Given the unpleasantness of driving in the winter, I'm looking forward to travel by train. Now I'm thinking of all the other places we can visit this year to maximize the benefits of the BahnCard. This is when Frankfurt's central location in Europe, the high-speed train network, and the fact that we live within walking distance of the main train station come in handy. Here are a few examples of train travel times from Frankfurt am Main:

Strasbourg 2.5 hours, one change

Basel 3.0 hours, direct
Munich 3.3 hours, direct
Brussels 3.4 hours, one change
Paris 3.9 hours, direct
Leipzig 4.0 hours, direct
Hamburg 4.0 hours, direct
Amsterdam 4.0 hours direct
Zürich 4.3 hours, direct
Metz 4.5 hours, one change
Dresden 4.75 hours, direct
Nancy 4.5 hours, one change
Berlin 4.8 hours, direct
Salzburg 5.3 hours, direct
Prague 6.0 hours, one change
Lyon 7.0 hours, one change
Vienna 7.0 hours, direct

Oh yeah, we paid EUR 108 for two round-trip tickets to Basel and EUR 127 for two round-trip tickets to Leipzig. That is comparable to what we would have had to pay for gas on each trip, and does not consider wear and tear on the car and the driving stress. The travel times also are competitive with driving.

Three Beckmann Exhibits

2011-12-31T18:29:00.000+01:00

Yes, time is running out to catch three simultaneous Beckmann Exhibits on the continent. We've already been to the excellent Beckmann & America at Frankfurt's Städel Museum. It only runs through January 8, 2012, so time is running out. The other two exhibits both run until January 22, and I am wondering whether we will be able to catch them: "Max Beckmann. Face to Face” in the Museum der bildenden Künste, Leipzig and "Max Beckmann. The Landscapes” in the Kunstmuseum Basel.

Stollen Comparison

2011-12-30T11:20:00.000+01:00

I finally got to use my old camera yesterday, so I set up my tripod and took a couple of pictures of the Stollen that I received as a gift together with a slice of the homemade stollen from our neighbor (shown on the white plate on the left). Frau Bloggerboy and I like the Dresdner Christstollen better. The yeast cake is flaky and low in sugar, and the raisins and candied fruits have a clean, rum aroma and enough sweetness to offset the yeast cake but not overwhelm it. Out neighbor's Stollen (thank God I'm blogging anonymously!) is much heavier and is filled with nuts, raisins and candied fruits. The yeast cake is not flaky, and the filling overwhelms the cake a bit. It is not clear what kind of alcohol was used with the fruit. Neither Stollen has marzipan. I can imagine that some people will prefer the homemade version becasue it reminds them of the ones they grew up with. But sometimes, less is more, as in this case.

Homemade on the Left, Commercial on the Right

Mother's Ruin

2011-12-26T17:45:00.007+01:00

William Hogarth's Gin Lane (1751)

Gin, cursed Fiend, with Fury fraught,
Makes human Race a Prey.
It enters by a deadly Draught
And steals our Life away.

Virtue and Truth, driv'n to Despair

Its Rage compells to fly,

But cherishes with hellish Care

Theft, Murder, Perjury.

Damned Cup! that on the Vitals preys

That liquid Fire contains,

Which Madness to the heart conveys,

And rolls it thro' the Veins.

Well, I beg to differ. Those of us who grew up after the Gin Craze and the passage of the Gin Acts (i.e. everyone living) are entitled to occasional displays of affection for Mother's Ruin. On hot summer evenings, I often wax poetic about the virtues of the British Empire as I mix my gin and tonic after a hard day's work. I prefer lime over lemon, by the way. I've been alternating between bottles of Tanqueray and Bombay Sapphire gin lately. Well, imagine my surprise when Bloggerboy Junior, in his drive to become a Man Of The World (TM), placed a bottle of Hendrick's under the tree this year for Dear Old Dad, making a big impression. I've heard of Hendrick's but never tried it. The "nose" is quite good based on my first few sniffs. I'm fresh out of tonic water right now and not in the mood for a martini, but sometime soon I will mix a G&T with a cucumber garnish and Hendrick's Gin.

Now, would someone more familiar than I with curious British uses, please explain to me the Hendrick's gin tea cup that came with my bottle? Are Brits (or, to be more precise in this case, Scots) wont to drink their gin in tea cups? If so, where does this strange practice come from? Or is this just an insidious attempt to subvert the great British tradition of Tea Time (afternoon tea) by turning it into an early cocktail hour? Or does it play a role in High Tea (aka meat tea)? I'm curious. Part of the fun of drinking these old drinks is the history that goes with them. Can anyone drink a Martini (stirred, not shaken, please) without thinking about its colorful history?

A Hendrick's Gin Tea Cup???

"I don't know what reception I'm at, but for God's sake give me a gin and tonic." -- Denis Thatcher

It's Raining Stollen

2011-12-26T12:00:00.001+01:00

Recently, The Underground Baker posted detailed instructions on how to make a Stollen. That caught my attention and brought back memories of the Stollen that my maternal grandmother used to make when she visited for Christmas. Spoiled American child that I was, I found the low-sugar yeast cake and fruit with rum unappealing. Oh to roll back the clock! This year one of my colleagues sent me a Dresdner Christstollen, considered to be the quintessential Stollen. The term "Christstollen" not only refers to Christmas but also to the fact that the look of the sugar-covered Stollen is reminiscent of the Christchild wrapped in swaddling clothes. Our friends and neighbors, the wife being a traditional Swabian mother who bakes traditional Christmas cookies every year, gave us another Stollen. So we are Stollen-rich this year (pun intended).

The big debate with Stollen is whether to include marzipan. If you decide to include marzipan, you need to determine whether you want to include a single, large "rope" in the middle or whether to place several smaller ropes throughout the Stollen. I don't mind marzipan in the Stollen, but I find a large rope in the middle overwhelming. It distracts from the other fruits. Stollen keeps well for several weeks. The rum flavors spread, adding complexity to the cake.

Camera Repair

2011-12-21T19:04:00.001+01:00

You might have noticed that I have not posted photos lately. The display on my digital SLR camera was kaputt. (I don't know whether it had anything to do with Fräulein Bloggerboy taking over 500 pictures last New Year's Eve when two of her girlfriends were over, trying on different outfits and looks.) I finally found a shop that has promised to replace the display for ca. EUR 120. If I'm lucky, I might even have it back before Christmas.

11/11/11

2011-11-11T17:41:00.003+01:00

The pictures above show French President Francois Mitterrand and German Chancellor Helmut Kohl visiting a German WWI military cemetery near Verdun. The cemetery is named Consenvoye after a local town. It lies right across the road from the Meuse River in a scenic setting that belies the horrors that took place nearby during World War I. The cemetery holds the remains of over 11,000 German soldiers. The cemetery was established in 1920 as a final resting place for German soldiers who had died nearby and who had been buried in provisional cemeteries throughout the area.

In a strange confluence of family history and world history, a relative of mine is buried at Consenvoye in a mass grave with ten other German soldiers. He died in August 1917 fighting for Germany, leaving behind a widowed mother, a younger sister (my grandmother), and a younger brother. I have a collection of postcards that he wrote to his mother during the war. They were scratched in pencil from the front (“Feldpost”). I have yet to have them transcribed, as I cannot read the handwriting. In spite of the fact that he was the oldest son in a family without a father when the war started, he was drafted early and sent to fight on both fronts. He was wounded several times, as post cards sent from different military hospitals document. My family has the letter from the army notifying his mother of his “hero’s death” and awarding him an Iron Cross 2nd Class posthumously.

All four of my grandparents emigrated from German-speaking parts of Europe to the United States shortly before and after World War I. The outbreak of war was the great political disaster of the 20th century, paving the way for worse to come. It took me two trips to the region to find my great-uncle. I have visited the grave several times, alone and with family. I strongly recommend a visit to Verdun and its landmarks to better understand how Europe destroyed itself in the 20th century. In these current times of crisis in the European Union, many people are reflecting on where Europe is headed and considering carefully their next steps, conscious of their responsibility to avoid past mistakes.

World War I ended on November 11, 1918.

Fall is in the Air

2011-11-06T16:39:00.001+01:00

I might have chosen different music to accompany this video. For best effect, expand it to full screen size.

Self-Indulgence

2011-10-15T15:58:00.009+02:00

I long ago lost the war of reconciling the self-contradictory aspects of my life. I don't embrace them or wallow in them, but I do keep an eye on them, so to speak, to make sure they don't get the upper hand in my life. As part of this self-confessional blog, I am now going to reveal to the world two items that I have been consuming lately. I am neither ashamed nor proud of this consumption. I will leave it to others to interpret what this reveals about my personality.

Self-Indulgence No. 1:

I was in Paris last year in October and picked up a free sample of a new scent from Penhaligon's at their store on the Rue Saint-Honoré: Sartorial, "The Scent of Savile Row". I had smelled scents similar to this before, usually worn by bankers in bespoke suits on their way to work in the financial district. It was one of the few male scents that impressed me. The sample that I took back to my hotel in Paris was a strip of textile made to look like a shortened tailor's measuring tape that had been soaked in Sartorial. I kept sniffing the strip over a period of days, and it kept going strong. I finally broke down and bought a bottle before leaving Paris.

Since then I spent a fair bit of time reading up on scents in the internet. The Penhaligon's description of Sartorial should give you a hint of the layers of complexity involved in an upscale scent, as opposed to the single-note scents that most males know.

Head Notes:

Aldehydes, Ozonic Effect, Metallic Effect, Violet Leaf, Neroli, Cardamom, Black Pepper, Fresh Ginger

Heart Notes:

Beeswax, Cyclamen, Linden Blossom, Lavender, Leather

Base Notes:

Gurgum Wood, Patchouli, Myrrh, Cedarwood, Tonka Bean, Oakmoss, White Musk, Honey Effect, Old Wood Effect, Vanilla, Amber

Sartorial is a contemporary interpretation of a classic Fougère; the traditional notes of oakmoss, tonka bean and lavender have been exquisitely stitched together with woods, ozonic and metallic effects, leather, violet leaf, honey and spices to create the perfect illusion of a tailor’s workroom. The modern thread running through Sartorial is beeswax; echoing the blocks of wax each thread is run across before stitching. This sweet smudged note ties together the more traditional elements; the oiled flash of shears cutting cloth, the rub of fabric beneath fingers, tobacco tinted cabinetry, puffs of chalk in the air and old paper patterns vanilla with age.

Perfumer: Bertrand Duchaufour

I can't pretend to identify even a fraction of the scents mentioned above, but I've been using Sartorial regularly this past year, at first only for going out, but lately, even if I'm just hanging around the apartment. Just about everyone likes the scent on me. (Alas, Frau Bloggerboy does not. What to do?) On top of that, I cannot really enjoy the scent myself while wearing it -- short of sniffing my writst or collar. Silly boy, scents are for other people. My rationalization for this self-indulgence: I'll never be able to afford a bespoke suit; why not at least smell like someone who can?

Self-Indulgence No. 2:

This is a more recent indulgence. Over the years, I've smoked an occasional cigar and am known to buy a box of cigarillos to smoke on vacation. Back in high school and college, I flirted with pipe smoking, having grown up in a household with a pipe-smoking father. I've never smoked regularly. This past year, we were out with friends on a couple of occasions, and the men indulged in an after-dinner cigar al fresco, or, more decadently, during an evening of live jazz in a fancy bar that allowed cigar smoking. After that, I began rewarding myself occasionally after a hard week of work with a cigar from one of the local stores with a walk-in humidor. After trying several types of cigars, I found the John Aylesbury No. 1 "Churchill", aged three years, mild from beginning to end. At EUR 12.50 a pop it is expensive but not outrageously-priced. For an extra EUR 2.50 it comes in a cedarwood box that smells even better than the cigar. (Talk about a wonderful blend of scents!)

I guess I can use self-indulgence no. 1 to cover up the smell of self-indulgence no. 2. That's symbiosis!

Still Going Strong

2011-08-24T09:50:00.020+02:00

Yesterday evening, we took a trip to Bavaria to hear a British musician. Aschaffenburg is less than an hour from Frankfurt, just over the border to Bavaria. There are no border controls, but the Aschaffenburg police did stop our friends and make them open their trunk and display their first aid kits, just to remind them that they were no longer in Hessen. In spite of the less-than-friendly greeting at the city limits, we were in for a real treat. Our friend is a jazz buff and keeps his eye out for interesting opportunities to hear good music at reasonable prices. The concert took place at a club named Colos-Saal, a play on the word Saal, which means (concert) hall in this context. The musician was Brian Auger ("The man who said 'no' to Jimi Hendrix") with his band, Trinity, including his son as drummer, his daughter as singer, and a bass player from Chicago and LA named Les King. I was familiar with Auger's name and may even have heard some of his music over the years, but this was the first time that I had devoted much time to the man. The club was mostly standing room, typical beer joint, and there were only about 100 guests. The group adapted its music to the setting and played hard-edged, bluesy versions of some of Auger's most famous songs. Two sets of about one hour each and then two encore pieces. The last song was a fantastic, driving display of all four musicians' talent, really the best song all evening. Hard to believe that Auger, at 72, still has the juice to pour his soul out in stifling heat at the end of a long evening, but that's what he did, and it certainly was a highlight of my summer to hear him play. Here is a dreamier version of Road to Cairo that I found on You-Tube, with Auger's daughter singing and son on drums:

Road to Cairo

Between sets, we had a bite to eat at the adjoining Jazzküche. The Alsatian Flammkuchen had plenty of ham chunks and, at EUR 6, was a good value. Drinks from beer to ginger ale were EUR 2.50 for a 0.3 liter soft drink or a 0.4 liter beer -- by Frankfurt standards downright cheap. We'll certainly be back.

Auger used to play with the singer Julie Driscoll. Here is a sample of one of their most famous songs, Season of the Witch, written by Donovan, also performed last night.

Another song covered last night was Compared to What, a song that I first heard performed by Les McCann and that has an interesting history.

Compared to What: Les McCann & Eddie Harris 1969 in Montreux

Eugene McDaniels Discusses "Compared to What"

You know, listening to those lyrics from 1969, they still resonate forty years later.

Compared to What

I love the lie and lie the love
A-Hangin’ on, with push and shove
Possession is the motivation
that is hangin’ up the God-damn nation
Looks like we always end up in a rut (everybody now!)
Tryin’ to make it real — compared to what? C’mon baby!

Slaughterhouse is killin’ hogs

Twisted children killin’ frogs

Poor dumb rednecks rollin’ logs

Tired old lady kissin’ dogs

I hate the human love of that stinking mutt (I can’t use it!)

Try to make it real — compared to what? C’mon baby now!

The President, he’s got his war

Folks don’t know just what it’s for

Nobody gives us rhyme or reason

Have one doubt, they call it treason

We’re chicken-feathers, all without one nut. God damn it!

Tryin’ to make it real — compared to what? (Sock it to me)

Church on Sunday, sleep and nod

Tryin’ to duck the wrath of God

Preacher’s fillin’ us with fright

They all tryin’ to teach us what they think is right

They really got to be some kind of nut (I can’t use it!)

Tryin’ to make it real — compared to what?

Where’s that bee and where’s that honey?

Where’s my God and where’s my money?

Unreal values, crass distortion

Unwed mothers need abortion

Kind of brings to mind ol’ young King Tut (He did it now)

Tried to make it real — compared to what?!

Finally, here is a video of Donovan singing his own song, Season of the Witch:

Internet Secrecy Debate

2011-08-09T18:44:00.002+02:00

This man wants to know more about you.

OK, it's summertime, and, in spite of the upheaval going on in the world, German politicians with too much time on their hands often look for interesting topics to fill the summer gap. The Germans call it the Sommerloch (literally the "summer hole"), and, apparently, English speakers call it the "silly season", although I'm not familiar with that term. In any event, Hans-Peter Friedrich, Germany's Interior Minister (CDU), recently called for laws to do away with Internet anonymity. Ahem. Herr Friedrich is already backtracking, claiming that it was only a "trial balloon" to encourage "debate". Well, I'd like to introduce Herr Friedrich to another English term: Lead Balloon.

Now, we at Bloggerboy World Headquarters consider ourselves to be open-minded. In that vein, here is an article in English discussing some of the issues related to web anonymity. Nevertheless, we like our anonymity. We try to use it responsibly. We have various reasons for wishing to remain anonymous (imagine the embarrassment to Bloggerboy Junior and Fräulein Bloggerboy if their friends learned what their father was up to in his spare time). Besides, aren't search warrants intended to take care of abuse of web anonymity? Herr Friedrich, why not take some well-deserved vacation, or at least make sure that you have a back-up plan in place in case something happens similar to what is going on in London right now? That's in your job description, right? Certainly you have something better to do than snoop around here, or?

In an attempt to show willingness to compromise, I would like to disclose this tidbit of information: Bloggerboy World Headquarters is located in Frankfurt am Main, Germany. Certainly, there can only be one of us here.

Finally, a Subsidy that I Can Support

2011-08-07T12:39:00.004+02:00

If you compare life in Germany to life in France, one thing you notice is that the French subsidize children and students much more than the Germans do. Raising two kids in Frankfurt is an expensive undertaking. The kids take public transportation to school. Until recently, the only monthly ticket available cost just under EUR 60 a month and was non-transferrable. Technically, it was only to be used to get to school and back, although there never was an attempt to enforce that ridiculous rule. It was a stingy tariff. The local transportation company ("RMV" for Rhein-Main-Verkehrsbund) took the standpoint that any reductions in tariff would have to be based on subsidies from the municipalities. Until recently, the city of Frankfurt was not willing or able to support cheaper family rates. Now, the RMV has offered a reasonable annual pass for school children and apprentices called (Denglish alert!) the CleverCard. Not only is the card good during the school year within the first Frankfurt tariff area that covers the entire inner city, it also is valid during vacation time. The annual fee is EUR 399, or just over EUR 33 a month. That is a fair price. Too bad Bloggerboy Junior finished school this year and will be going away to study. Think of all the money I could have saved!

Rough and Rumpy

2011-08-03T16:53:00.001+02:00

I got a kick out of this You Tube video about making tempura batter.

Deep Fryer Alternative

2011-08-01T20:48:00.002+02:00

I finally started getting serious about trying to make french fries at home. I enjoy french fries from time to time but would not say that I consume them more than once a week on the average, which may still be too often for healthy living. Certainly, I do not intend to make them at home more than once a month or so. The obvious first step would be to buy a deep fryer. I checked the leading German consumer reports foundation, Stiftung Warentest to see if there had been a recent major report. Aside from a couple of single product tests these past years, the last major report was dated 2003. Unfortunately, most of the machines were found to have primitive and inaccurate thermostats. Research has determined that frying above temperatures of 170 degree Celsius produces significantly higher acrylamide levels. I went to several stores and looked at several fryer brands, including several made for commercial use. All of the home-use fryers had primitive temperature controls in comparison to the commercial ones, confirming the consumer report. Furthermore, the machines are bulky. We don't have a lot of extra space for storage. For that reason, I decided to try an alternative until I am convinced of the need for a fryer. I bought 1.5 liters of sunflower oil and a good digital thermometer, which also can be used to test meat temperatures, etc. I also bought a french fry cutter. Both products are shown below.

A Digital Thermometer

French Fry Cutter

I compared Kalba's instructions with Thomas Keller's instructions in his cookbook, Bouchon. I decided to blanch the potatoes in boiling water à la Kalba, as opposed to a lengthier soak in cold water, as Keller does. I heated the oil to 130 degrees and 170 degrees Celsius, respectively, with several hours in between to allow the frites to chill. The results were pretty good. An interesting tidbit that the German consumer report mentioned is that fresh oil does not produce the best frites. The oil gets better as it is used -- until it reaches its prime and starts to decline. One suggestion was to add a bit of old oil to your fresh oil to speed up the process and add more flavor to the first batch of fried goods.

So, in order to get my oil in shape for better-tasting frites, my next recipe will be deep-fried Mars bars:

Just kidding, but aren't you just the least bit tempted?

Mr. Potato Head

2011-07-29T21:38:00.014+02:00

With a tip of the hat to Kalba over at Slow Living in the French Pyrénées, I've had potatoes on the brain now for the past several days. I've been thinking about buying a deep fryer for the past year or so. Kalba beat me to the punch. I've been meaning to get started with what certainly will be an ongoing thread about the potato. The Germans eat a lot of potatoes (Kartoffeln, also known as Erdäpfel, literally "earth apples"). Certain foreigners here will insult Germans by calling them "you German potato" (Du deutsche Kartoffel). I was called a German potato once by a clearly unbalanced foreigner who mistook me for a native as he was sitting at his windowsill when I passed by. I guess this is related to similar expressions such as "Krauts" for Germans, "Frogs" for the French and "Limeys" for the British. You are what you eat.

I'm still not ready to buy a deep fryer, but I am ready to go through another phase of getting to know the potato. In Germany, potatoes are sold based primarily on how they cook. The English terms distinguishing the textures appear to be "waxy" (festkochend) and "floury" (mehligkochend), and it appears to be related to starch content. The high-starch potatoes are floury or mealy and make for classic baked potatoes (Offenkartoffeln), french fries (Pommes frites in Germany as in France, also referred to here as Pommes with the "s" pronounced or Fritten with a short "i") and mashed potatoes (Kartoffelbrei or Kartoffelpüree). Let's stop right there and get to one of the first basic recipes that I just tried for homemade mashed potatoes. My goal is to achieve a high level of fluff, naturally.

Here's the equipment that you need:

-- one large pot for cooking the potatoes

-- one large bowl of cold water for the peeled potatoes before cooking
-- a potato ricer (Kartoffelpresse)
-- a whisk (Schneebesen)

Here is a picture of a potato ricer:

Here are the ingredients:

-- one kilogram of floury potatoes (mehligkochend)

-- ca.1/4-liter hot milk (recommend full fat for flavor)
-- ca. 100 grams butter
-- salt
-- ground pepper
-- grated nutmeg

Peel and cube the potatoes and place them in the bowl of cold water until ready to cook. Cook for about 20 minutes in boiling, salted water. Drain into a colander. press the potato cubes through the ricer back into the empty pot. Fold in the milk and butter with a whisk. Add salt, peper and nutmeg to taste. The ricer creates a really fluffy potato base, but the milk and butter when folded in make it thicker. I recommend making a few extra potatoes and/or adding the liquids slowly to avoid losing the fluffy texture. Stop before you lose the fluff, or add potatoes as needed to restore it. My potatoes came out really well the first try. I’m pretty sure I cooked more than 1 kg. of potatoes. I added the milk and butter early, before I had pressed all of the potatoes, causing the mixture to almost liquify. Once I finished pressing all the potatoes, though, I had a big pot of fluffy spuds. Next time I'll go more slowly with the milk.

If you are familiar with mashed potatoes made from flakes or using an electric beater, you will notice that the texture of the potatoes that have been passed through a ricer is a bit coarser, but not nearly as subject to lumps as when you use an old-fashioned masher (below). I prefer just a bit of texture to remind me that the dish is not out of a box. To maintain maximum fluff and avoid patato chunks, I recommend not adding any of the scrapings from the ricer.

Frau Bloggerboy uses this kind of old-fashioned masher

which produces chunkier mashed potatoes

Of False Twins and Strange Bedfellows

2011-07-26T19:43:00.003+02:00

I was in town last week, wandering down the main shopping street, when I caught notice of a conversation going on next to me in English. I slowed down long enough to notice that the speaker was non-native, most likely German, probably not older than 18. She was talking to a girlfriend of about the same age, most likely a non-German. I caught references to a "he" in the conversation and gathered that she was complaining about "him". Then, the German girl said to her friend, "you shouldn't always have to stick it up his ass". At that point, I was past the girls, so they could not see my smile as I tried to suppress laughing out loud. I knew right away what the poor girl was trying to say, but oh did she fail! I wonder what her non-German friend thought of her. Today, I told my son about what I had heard, and he burst out laughing. So, here is the explanation for those of you not fluent in German.

In the context in which it was used, the girl was trying to say that you shouldn't have to spoil someone or spoonfeed something to them. The German expression, granted vulgar, but frequently heard even among educated people is "jemandem etwas in den Arsch schieben", literally translated as above by the clumsy German girl. Most native English speakers might have thought the German girl was trying to say something like "shove it". But no. There are variations such as "stuffing sugar/powdered sugar up someone's ass [jemandem Zucker/Puderzucker in den Arsch schieben] that give a better hint at what is intended. In any event, I've made my point. Now that you've got the idea, don't think that if someone tells you, in German, to "lick them in the ass", that they are offering to share their powdered sugar with you. "Leck mich am Arsch" has about the same meaning as you would expect it to in English: "Kiss my ass."

Sorry for this vulgar post, but better a vulgar one than no post at all -- that's my reasoning.

Tour Update

2011-07-23T10:17:00.006+02:00

La Belle et la Douce France

A regular reader of this blog will know that on any given mid-July afternoon, one might find me in front of the TV watching the beautiful aerial coverage of the Tour de France. This year is no exception. My impression is that this year, there are no superheroes. The giants of the past are gone. The dopers of the past, some of whom are still in the race, are running scared. New giants have yet to emerge. The attacks are more believable, because the riders run out of steam instead of pedaling on at wattage levels that defy belief. I won't risk my reputation to claim that there is no doping in this year's tour. That would be naive. Contador's attack yesterday, after a collapse the day before, certainly raised a few eyebrows, but Contador ran out of steam on the famous Alpe d'Huez, and that was credible given the long attack that he led. I was happy to see that a Frenchman, Pierre Rolland, won the Alpe d'Huez stage yesterday, the first French victory on that famous hill since Bernard Hinault's in the Eighties. I've also admired Thomas Voelkler's fight to hold onto the yellow jersey. He gave it up yesterday, but has run an admirable race and displays great spirit.

So, today is, traditionally, the final stage that will decide who takes place 1 on the podium in Paris on Sunday. For the uninitiated, it is not customary for the person in first place to be attacked on the final stage. It is sort of a victory lap for the winner. Other prizes may still be up for grabs on Sunday. Today's main contestants in the time trials are the Schleck brothers, Andy and Frank, from Luxembourg, and Cadel Evans from Australia. Thomas Voelkler still stands an outside chance, but is not considered a serious threat to re-take the yellow jersey. Cadel Evans is considered the favorite in today's time trials, I believe, but the Schleck brothers, particularly Andy, have promised to give him a run for his money. Traditionally, time trials near the end of a tour have proven exciting and have given racers who did not excel in the Alps or Pyrenees a final chance to move up in the overall rankings. Cadel needs to make up almost a minute on Andy to take the overall lead. I wonder whether, if today's time trials produce a near-tie, the contestants for first place will honor the unwritten no-attack rule on the final stage. All in all, this has been a good tour. I miss the concentrated professionalism of Lance Armstrong, but I do not miss the heavy suspicion of doping that hung over breathtaking, but, alas, incredible attacks. I look forward to seeing which young riders will emerge as the new contenders for overall winner. Pierre Rolland certainly would appear to be one of the possibles.

Vive le Tour!

It Couldn't Have Happened to a Nicer Guy

2011-07-23T09:48:00.001+02:00

"This man has done more to harm journalism in America and Britain than any other person. (...) In the U.S., where his newspaper holdings are limited to the New York Post and the (actually good) Wall Street Journal, his damage has been done with Fox News, the first deliberately and unapologetically biased and partisan network in American history. You disagree? Be my guest."

-- Roger Ebert

Official End of My Childhood

2011-06-21T08:53:00.003+02:00

The bowls shown above are some of the last remnants from my childhood that play a role in our everyday lives here at Bloggerboy headquarters. My family acquired them when I was around eight or nine, perhaps even younger. We're talking Mid-Sixties. I think they were some sort of special deal from the milkman. They are thermal bowls meant for oatmeal and cream of wheat, etc. To be more precise, the bottoms of the bowls reveal that they are Cornish "Therm-O-Bowls". One is supposed to think of the space program at this point, not to mention all the period naugahyde furniture. At some point after I moved out of my parents' house, I acquired these bowls from their stock. I can remember having them in my student apartment when I got married. Of particular advantage is the fact that the bowls are microwave and dishwasher safe, even though microwaves were not in wide use back when we purchased the bowls. To this day the bowls are used by my children for their morning cereal, and by all of us for helpings of fresh fruit and other snacks. Unfortunately, two of the bowls have worn through, and the vacuum "therm-o" seal is broken. They fill with water in the dishwasher. I had hoped to give each child one of the bowls when he or she left home and to keep one for myself. Now, it looks as if only my bowl will survive, heh heh. Still, these bowls held up over forty years. That's pretty amazing for a cheap plastic product. I wanted to have a picture of all three bowls together before I disposed of the two broken ones (with a tinge of sadness at the passing of an era).

More Oysters

2011-05-17T10:15:00.003+02:00

After my initial report about oysters that are grown entirely in finishing basins, I returned to the seafood shop upstairs at the Kleinmarkthalle last Saturday to purchase a dozen Marennes-Oléron oysters in the category Spéciale de Claire. They cost EUR 2.00 a piece, as compared to EUR 2.50 a piece for the Pousse en Claire oysters. Unlike the Pousse en Claire, the Spéciales de Claire are only finished for several weeks in the finishing basins (claires), otherwise growing offshore. This provided the perfect mix between salt and sweetness that I had been looking for. I shucked the oysters and placed them on a bed of rock salt in a round serving tray between slices of lemon. We served them as a light appetizer to our friends, a German couple that also likes seafood and has vacationed in France numerous times. We drank a bottle of Spanish Chardonnay with the oysters. What I particularly like about the two Oléron oysters that I have tried is the concavity of the shell, allowing for plump oysters. The Speciales only required a bite or two before swallowing, and the nice blend of salty liquid and sweet flesh played on the tongue for several seconds. After surfing a bit today, I learned that the pacific oysters grown in Marennes-Oléron also are referred to as Rock Oysters. For anyone interested, the old rule of only eating oysters in months that contain an "r" seems to apply to the flat oysters known as Ostrea edulis, of which the Belon oyster is the most famous. These oysters have a reproductive cycle that makes them less appealing from May to August. The pacific oysters can be eaten year-round.

"Refined at Marennes Oléron and Nowhere Else"

Cheaper by the Dozen?

An "Oyster Park" near Marennes

What I've Learned This Week

2011-05-04T08:28:00.012+02:00

I'm glad I live in a country of such educated and wise people. They taught me that it is not correct to be happy at the death of a mass murderer. They taught me that my country committed an unspeakable crime in violating the sovereignty of another country to hunt down the mass murderer, and that shooting him was another unspeakable crime, even though the compound in which the mass murderer lived was defended, and shots were fired on the troops who were trying to capture or kill the mass murderer.

From the lowliest journalist to ex-Bundeskanzler Schmidt, everyone here seems to be an expert on international law*. I am so lucky. Isn't it time for Germany to take the lead and show the world how things should be done, as they obviously know better than the rest of us? Wouldn't the world be a much better place if we followed Germany's lead? All in favor, please raise your hand. I wonder if my German colleagues would feel differently if, like me, they were only two or three degrees of separation away from at least three different victims of the 9-11 attacks, or if, like me, they had taken the time to visit ground zero in 2002 or talked to people who were in New York during the attacks and who were traumatized by seeing people jumping from the towers to their deaths. I'm sorry, I just can't help it. I feel this coming on. I'm just going to let it out:

There, I feel much better. No more politics at this blog. I promise, heh heh.

*Or maybe they aren't. Another analysis here. A refreshing contrary view. A legal analysis in English.

"Jeder, der bezweifelt, dass der Verursacher von Massenmord auf amerikanischem Boden nicht bekommen hat, was er verdiente, der sollte sich das Hirn untersuchen lassen. [And I think that anyone who would question that the perpetrator of mass murder on American soil didn't deserve what he got needs to have their head examined.]" -- Barack Obama

"Das ist eine dieser bescheuerten Debatten, die es nur in Deutschland geben kann. Ich will es einmal umgekehrt formulieren: Man darf zumindest nicht traurig darüber sein." -- Daniel Cohn-Bendit

The Revelers

2011-04-07T08:42:00.009+02:00

Reading about the Comedian Harmonists, I learned that they had been influenced by an American group known as The Revelers. Here is a sample of their work.

WAKE UP, VERONICA, IT'S SPRINGTIME!!!!

2011-04-02T12:22:00.007+02:00

"Veronika, der Lenz ist da” is probably the best-known song by the Austrian composer Walter Jurmann (1903-1971), who later went to Hollywood, where he worked for MGM. This song was first made popular by the famous German a cappella group The Comedian Harmonists. In the early years in Berlin, Jurmann collaborated with the Austrian-born lyricist Fritz Rotter (1900-1984), who wrote the words for “Veronika, der Lenz ist da”. "Der Lenz" is an old German word for spring (der Frühling) that comes from the Middle High German word lenze and the Old High German word lengzo. Related to the adjective “long,” Lenz refers to the increasingly longer days as spring moves towards summer.

German Lyrics:

Mädchen lacht, Jüngling spricht,
Fräulein wollen’S, oder nicht?
draußen ist Frühling
und dann klopft bei ihr an
und er fragt sie wo und wann
bin ich endlich mal dran?

Veronika, der Lenz ist da
die Mädchen singen tralala
die ganze Welt ist wie verhext
Veronika, der Spargel wächst
Veronika, die Welt ist grün
drum lass uns in die Wälder ziehen
sogar der Großpapa sagt zu der Großmama
Veronika, der Lenz ist da!

English Translation:

Girl laughs, boy speaks:
Miss, do you want to, or not?
Outside it’s spring
and then someone knocks at her door
and he asks her where and when,
is it finally my turn?

Veronika, spring is here
the girls sing tra-la-la
the whole world seems bewitched
Veronika, the asparagus is growing
Veronika, the world is green,
so let’s go into the woods.
Even grandpa is saying to grandma,
Veronika, spring is here!

The Comedian Harmonists in 1930

Their verson of the same song:

Saturday Special

2011-03-27T17:26:00.008+02:00

The Knife

The Food

The Seasoning

The Wine

I resisted temptation yesterday ... and promptly rewarded myself. I went to my usual cafe for a cup of Joe and my Saturday newspaper. The daily lunch special at the cafe was a veal schnitzel with fried potatoes and mixed salad for EUR 16. I came very close to ordering it, but I knew that good food was available at home. So, to reward myself for my self-discipline, I went to the Kleinmarkthalle and bought oysters. Last year, during two vacations in France, I ate more oysters than in the ten years prior to that combined. You can get oysters in Frankfurt, but they don't really play a role here the way they do in France, or even the US. If you order a "raw" plate in Cannes or Paris, with a mixture of seafood, you most likely will receive basic oysters. The generic term is "creuse" for the pacific oyster that is most common. The oysters are relatively flat. Often, they are referred to as "fines". You don't even need to chew them to get them down, just slurp, and down they go, with a pleasant saline flavor. This fall in Paris, I had one of those "raw" platters, and the oysters were just fine but a bit small for my taste, as they had been in Cannes. Then we ate at a neat little restaurant near our hotel in the 15th. The co-owner had been a chef at Michelin-level restaurants, and the attention to detail was great. They had a special of six "Perle Blanche" Oysters that we shared to start our three-course meal. The Perles Blanches were bigger than the fines and they had a real crunch when you bit into them. I later read a bit more about them. They grow along the North Sea and Atlantic coast between Normandy and Charente-Maritime and are refined in refinement basins near the coast (called "claires") by providing them with a less saline -- and more specialized -- feeding environment. Often you will see "fines de claires" sold in France and Germany that indicate the extra "affinage" for which the French are so famous, not just with oysters.

Back before Mardi Gras, I made a batch of Oysters Rockefeller during a spate of nostalgia for New Orleans. I went to one of the big supermarkets in town and bought twelve Fines de Claires. I then went to the department store above and bought an oyster knife. The knife cost more than the oysters did. It is more of an oyster breaker than a knife (see pic above). I watched several different videos online about opening oysters and adapted the French approach of going in near the muscle on the side of the oyster, as opposed to the hinge, where many Americans start. I stabbed myself once, even though I held the oysters in a towel, drawing a fair bit of blood but not needing stitches or medical attention. I now wear a glove and continue to hold the oysters in a towel. I carry my scar proudly. The Oysters Rockefeller came out well enough, but I was disappointed again by the small size of the fines de claires oysters. I also resolved that generally, oysters should be eaten raw, not baked.

Yesterday, after my cafe visit, I went to the French seafood store upstairs at the Kleinmarkthalle and ordered six of their most expensive oysters to take home. The bill was EUR 15.00, less than my schnitzel meal would have been. These were "Pousse en Claire" oysters at EUR 2.50 a piece. Pousse en Claire oysters grow entirely in the refinement basins in Marennes-Oléron, on the Atlantic Coast northwest of Bordeaux. They turned out to be quite large. It took me several bites to get the oysters reduced to the point at which swallowing was comfortable. They had the same fresh crunch of the Perles Blanches that we had in Paris, but the juice and taste were hardly saline at all. Frau Bloggerboy really liked them. I had one of mine with lemon juice and the other two with a mild, green jalapeno hot sauce in honor of my southern upbringing. The next time, I will drop down one notch on the price scale and get the Speciales en Claires, also from Marennes-Oléron, which, similarly to the Perles Blanches, are grown in the ocean and then refined in refinement basins before shipping. I'm hoping for a bit more salinity but with oyster size similar at least to the Perles Blanches that we had in Paris. That would be perfect.

To wash down our oysters we had a bottle of Chablis 1er Cru, a 2006 Montée de Tonnerre from Jean-Marc Brocard. Chablis is the quintessential wine for oysters. This wine was pretty good, if a tad past its prime. The appetizer, together with a salad, turned out to be our evening meal. I was full. (OK, I had a bag of microwave popcorn later that evening to go with the film that we rented, long after the fine taste of the oysters had vanished.) If you don't mind the extra work in the kitchen, your money goes a lot further with the fresh oysters and good wine from the market. The Chablis also does not cost more than EUR 15 a bottle. In a restaurant we would have spent EUR 35 to EUR 50 for the same bottle.

A luscious, opulent, ripe fruit

2011-03-24T08:53:00.002+01:00

In her Prime

Camille Paglia says it all: "Elizabeth Taylor has been a colossal pagan goddess to me since I was 11 or 12. I was so lucky to have seen her at her height. And my sensibility as a culture critic and as a feminist was deeply formed by her. In the U.S. in the 1950s, blondes were the ultimate Aryan ideal. Perky blondes like Doris Day, Debbie Reynolds and Sandra Dee ruled the roost! And then there was Elizabeth Taylor with that gorgeous, brunette, ethnic look. She looked Jewish, Italian, Spanish, even Moorish! She was truly transcultural -- it was a radical resistance to the dominance of the blond sorority queens and cheerleaders. And then her open sexuality in that puritanical period! It was so daring."

Foto: Wiki Commons

March Like an Egyptian

2011-02-12T09:32:00.005+01:00

In honor of all the Egyptians who stood up for their dignity against an oppressive regime, in particular the ones who lost their lives or were injured. The whole world is with you.

The Wind of Change

The world closing in

Did you ever think

That we could be so close, like brothers

The future's in the air

I can feel it everywhere

Blowing with the wind of change

Not Really on Topic, but I Like the Music.

All the kids in the marketplace say:
Way-oh-way-oh-way-ooo-aaa-ooo…
Walk like an Egyptian.

Cultural Arbitrage

2011-02-05T20:49:00.004+01:00

When I first moved abroad, there were numerous comfort items that I stocked each time I returned to the US. We usually traveled with a suitcase inside another empty suitcase. I used to think of ways to make a fortune by importing items that weren't available in Germany. Nowadays, my list has become very short. If you come to visit, you'll always be welcome if you bring one of these items:

Orville Reddenbacher Microwave Popcorn -- preferably Natural Butter

Jif Creamy Peanut Butter -- go ahead, get the four pound size

Excedrin Extra Strength -- cheap (by German standards) and effective, it works for most regular headaches

Goldtoe Socks -- Canterbury mid-calf, black. These are the best mass-produced socks in the world. My current ones are two years old. (I have a twitchy big toe that pokes holes in most socks after two months.)

I always enjoy asking new expats what they miss from home.

Bread

2011-01-15T21:05:00.002+01:00

I have yet to scratch the surface of German food at this blog. After I finished my tour of the flood, I found myself at the Alte Brücke, just across the river from one of the better bakeries in Frankfurt, Bäckerei HansS in the Brückenstr. 56 in Sachsenhausen. If you are looking for a baguette that can hold its own against the ones in France, Bäckerei Hanss is the place to go. Their croissants are good, too. Today, I purchased a 500g "Ausgehobenes", a sourdough loaf made of rye and wheat and formed by hand. The Ausgehobenes made by Hanss is relatively light and has a fine-pored texture. I found reference on the web to the fact that Ausgehobenes Brot is a Northern Hessian specialty. Presumably, Hanss uses no more than 60% rye flour. I've seen recipes that call for up to 80% rye flour. Frau Bloggerboy found the taste too mild, but I found it perfect for my evening meal of ripe Camembert, Black Forest Ham, and salami. The relatively strong flavor of the food did not require a strong bread. The bread's moist texture -- I cut fairly thick slices -- and wonderfully crisp crust were a pleasant contrast to the spreads.

Ausgehobenes Brot from Bäckerei HansS

I'll try a darker bread next time.

High Water

2011-01-15T17:28:00.000+01:00

As you may have heard, there is a lot of flooding going on around the world. The Main River rarely overflows its banks, but it did recently. This morning I walked into town and shot pictures near the old part of town to try to capture the extent of the flooding. As I've learned from watching the news and reading papers, unless you happen to have a high perch, it often is hard to get a feel for how bad the flooding is simply by looking at an isolated picture. So, I decided to delve into my archives to see if I had a picture of the same area before the flooding. These are pictures of Frankfurt's famous Nizza Park along the north bank of the Main River near the Römer. The park benefits from a sunny, southern exposure and wind protection, so a mediterranean microclimate exists.

Nizza -- Before (with sunbathers)

Nizza -- After (with ducks)

Stinky Cheese (Stinkekäse)

2011-01-07T13:10:00.005+01:00

I just had a great lunch of melted Vacherin cheese over cooked potatoes. Just add a bit of salt and peper, and voilà. This is the season for Vacherin, which is produced in Franche-Comté, France under the names Vacherin du Haute-Doubs and Vachering Mont d'Or, and in Switzerland, under the name Vacherin Mont d'Or. We bought a Vacherin Haute-Doubs in a round box similar to the one shown below. The Vacherin du Haute-Doubs is a raw milk cheese. The cheese already was runny when in the fridge, so I spooned it over the potatoes and warmed them in the microwave. In Alsace, Münster cheese (not to be confused with its American cousin) is served this way in restaurants, and the taste and odor are similar.

The Swiss Cousin, Vacherin Mont d'Or.
"The older the vacherin gets, the stronger the smell of
ammonia due to microorganism activity in the cheese."

Stinky cheeses are an acquired taste. My grandfather, who grew up in Swabia before emigrating to the US, always kept Limburger cheese in a sealed jar in the fridge. When he took it out, we scattered. I still don't have cravings for Limburger or Münster cheese, but at regularly intervals we have cheeses such as Münster and Vacherin at home, and I, too, enjoy them as a change of pace.

More German Christmas Carols

2010-12-24T13:42:00.007+01:00

Last year I introduced you to one of my favorite ("depressing") German Christmas Carols. Here is another of my favorites, Oh Du Fröhliche, followed by church bells.

The German lyrics were published in 1816 as a hymn and then modified in 1829 into a Christmas carol. The song is based on the Roman Catholic hymn O Sanctissima. Here are the modern German lyrics:

O du fröhliche, o du selige,
gnadenbringende Weihnachtszeit!
Welt ging verloren, Christ ist geboren:
Freue, freue dich, o Christenheit!

O du fröhliche, o du selige,
gnadenbringende Weihnachtszeit!
Christ ist erschienen, uns zu versühnen:
Freue, freue dich, o Christenheit!

O du fröhliche, o du selige,
gnadenbringende Weihnachtszeit!
Himmlische Heere jauchzen Dir Ehre:
Freue, freue dich, o Christenheit!

Apparently, there also are English lyrics for the song such as these from Wikipedia:

O thou happy, O thou holy
Glorious peace bringing Christmas time
Angel throngs to meet thee
On Thy birth we greet Thee
Hail to Christ, the Son of God, our newborn king

The Church bells really add something to the German Christmas carol collections. Most CDs start with bells and end with them. Typically, the bells are from historic churches throughout Germany. The Stadtgeläut -- the simultaneous ringing of a city's church bells -- on Christmas Eve is an integral part of the Christmas celebration in Frankfurt. Frankfurt's Stadtgeläut is particularly impressive because of the concentration of churches near the old city. A total of over 50 bells from 10 churches creates an impressive wall of sound at 5:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve. The bells ring for 30 minutes. After that, people go to church and then hurry home to open presents. Some folks still wait until this evening to decorate their trees, but many put their trees up earlier, just as we do. Most serve a simple meal with traditional dishes that vary by region and family. We're having beef sausages (Rindswurst) and potato salad, smoked fish, and a few other specialties about which I will report later.

Here's wishing you a Merry Christmas and all the best for the new year!

CYA the German Way

2010-12-21T17:44:00.007+01:00

One of the biggest boondoggles of German city life is the winter snow service (Winterdienst). Every apartment house, co-op or office building in Frankfurt has one person or company that is responsible for making sure that the sidewalk in front of the building is clear of snow and ice. Allegedly -- I've never bothered to research this -- the city is not liable for damages caused to pedestrians who slip and fall on the sidewalks in front of private homes or buildings. A lot of money changes hands each year from building owners to providers of winter services. The payments are made in advance for the promise of diligent winter service. In reality, the house owners only purchase a deep pocket and, presumably, an insurance policy to sue in the event someone slips or falls and sues the owners. I've lost track of the number of times we've changed winter service. Some houses are lucky enough to have a Hausmeister, a custodian or caretaker responsible for cleaning and grooming the common areas, who often lives in or near the building, and who also clears the walkways of snow and ice. You can tell the lucky houses that still have a Hausmeister, because you actually can see the sidewalks after the Hausmeister has cleared the snow. The private winter service companies rarely do a good job. Sometimes they simply drop some granulate on the snow (Streuen). Sometimes they have motorized tractors of different sizes that run a rotating brush over the snow. This rarely clears the sidewalk. The tractors with blades also usually leave a fair bit of snow on the sidewalks. The sidewalks are made of bricks or setts, so I guess there is a risk of tearing them up if the blade is too low. In any event, the sidewalks in Frankfurt reveal that most houses use a winter service. The trusty Hausmeister has gone the way of the concierge, a luxury few can afford. Days after a major snow, many houses show no sign of loving winter care to their sidewalks. Even a hotel on our street, owned by an asian consortium, appears not to understand its duties to clear snow.

After no sight of our winter service provider for 48 hours, I finally called our property manager (Hausverwaltung) to complain. She mentioned that none of her houses in the neighborhood had been cleared, and she contacted our winter service provider to demand performance. Meanwhile, the winter service provider for the house next door -- a large firm that we had used the winter before but that also did not perform regularly and so was fired -- promptly cleared the sidewalk in front of our neighbor's house. That hurt. The worker then used the tractor blade to create a hump of snow across the sidewalk along the boundary of our house. Was that payback for being fired last year? In any event, shortly after his visit, we watched in horror as a mother pushing a buggy almost dumped her child in the snow when she hit the bump. We called the property manager of the house next door (city survival demands that you learn such contact information) to complain about the hump, but nothing was ever done. At some point someone scattered a few handfuls of granulate (Splitt -- not a beach in Croatia) on our sidewalk but did nothing for the walkway leading up to our house entrance. Further complaints were lodged. Our property manager suggested that we keep a diary so that we could claim a refund against the service provider. After another bout of snow I was cleaning off our car in case we needed to go somewhere and noticed a worker diligently clearing snow from the sidewalk in front of the other next door neighbor's house. He was using a snow shovel. A sidewalk cleared by hand glistened darkly all the way to the corner! I promptly asked him who he worked for. He was a self-employed Hausmeister, and it turns out that he used to work for our house, too. We have an eccentric neighbor in the house who loves to complain about the custodians. She must have caused him to be fired at some point years ago. It looks as if our property manager, pushed no doubt by the eccentric neighbor, has dug us into a hole and that no one is coming to dig us out. I can't bring myself to start a "snow diary". I see myself turning into one of those grumpy German men who have nothing better to do than spend all day complaining about the lack of order around them. I've already written to the city about the abominable parking system on our street. Next thing you know I'll be shouting at little children to be quiet. Of course, we have a snow shovel in the basement. I could simply go downstairs and clear things to my satisfaction. Aside from the issue of what unthinkable liability I might expose myself to, there also is the certain knowledge that all my neighbors would think me a fool. I mentioned the possibility of clearing the sidewalk myself to Frau Bloggerboy, and she suggested that I was crazy. So, rather than sleeping soundly knowing that no one will slip on our sidewalk and sue us, I keep an eye out for the winter service and stew in my own discontent, wondering about exceptions to my insurance coverage. "Dear snow diary ...". Aaahhh, go ahead and sue me.

This contraption makes a helluva noise, the exhaust fumes

stink to high heaven, but you still can't see the sidewalk!

Palmengarten Winter Walk

2010-12-19T20:14:00.004+01:00

It snowed much of the evening and well into the night Thursday. My worst deadline matters were finished, so Frau Bloggerboy and I decided to treat ourselves to a morning walk in the Palmengarten to enjoy the winter landscapes. The Palmengarten caretakers already had cleared the walkways by the time we arrived shortly after nine a.m., but the snow otherwise was fresh and undisturbed by visitors. The morning sun was just starting to break out above the building and tree tops, casting long shadows and reflecting from ice crystals. Only a few students used the park as a short-cut across the Westend. Otherwise, we had the park to ourselves for the better part of an hour. The beauty of the winter landscapes and the complete quiet in the middle of the city was almost worth the price of our annual family pass. Afterwards, we had a leisurely breakfast at Café Siesmayer at a table right next to the large windows overlooking the Palmengarten's snowy fields.

Cushioned Seats

2010-12-17T13:24:00.000+01:00

Palmengarten 12/17/10 ca. 9:00 a.m.

And Now For Something Completely Different

2010-12-16T08:50:00.002+01:00

The Ska version of an oldie. Having grown up in the South, I can relate to the "not like the ones I used to know" twist. Ska is a music genre that originated in Jamaica in the late 1950s, and was the precursor to rocksteady and reggae. Ska combined elements of Caribbean mento and calypso with American jazz and rhythm and blues. It is characterized by a walking bass line accented with rhythms on the upbeat. In the early 1960s, ska was the dominant music genre of Jamaica and was popular with British mods.

Where We've Been and Where We're Headed

2010-12-14T09:45:00.004+01:00

For anyone who has given up on the idea of progress, this video offers a refreshing perspective.

Even problem child Africa seems to be on the upswing.

Gee, maybe capitalism works.

What's So Funny About Peace, Love & Understanding?

2010-12-08T08:05:00.008+01:00

b. 10/9/40, d. 12/8/80

"I'm not claiming divinity. I've never claimed purity of soul. I've never claimed to have the answers to life. I only put out songs and answer questions as honestly as I can ... But I still believe in peace, love and understanding." -- December 1980.

The Littlest Library

2010-12-04T15:58:00.004+01:00

I don't know how many times I walked past the littlest library in Frankfurt without noticing it. It is located at the Merianplatz in Bornheim and it's open 24/7/365. The library was designed by architect Hans-Jürgen Greve. The walls are made of steel. A great place to pick up a free read or to drop off a book you'd like to pass along. The next time I go to my favorite cafe, I'm going to stop here first. Apparently, the first "open-air" bookshelves appeared in Cologne about five years ago. I think this is a perfect complement to Book Crossing. It is a safe place to drop off a used book in a way that increases its chances of being passed along to other interested readers. I once tried donating a stack of books to the local library, but they were interested in only one or two out of about twenty. The rest went into a flea market bin to be sold to raise funds for the library. That's OK, I guess, but I like this concept better.

First Snow(s)

2010-12-04T15:54:00.000+01:00

This is about as early as it has snowed (and stuck) since I've been living in Frankfurt. I ran a few errands this morning and took my camera along.

Photography Exhibits at Frankfurt's MMK

2010-12-02T08:21:00.015+01:00

I took the day off a couple of Saturdays ago and walked into town to see an amazing photography exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art ("MMK"). Actually, it was two exhibits. I first went upstairs to see the exhibit “Not in Fashion”. The emphasis of the exhibit is on the backstage and non-fashionable sides of fashion. Most of the photos are not glossy. Many of them have been printed on ink jet printers. The focus is on the fashion of the 90's, primarily in the UK. There are some early portraits and the first magazine covers of Kate Moss, who is emblematic of the period. I really liked the pictures of British "street fashion".

I then went downstairs to see an impressive – and occasionally troubling – selection of the MMKs permanent collection “The Lucid Evidence”. A few weeks ago we were at a dinner party at friends of ours. One of their neighbors, also at the dinner, is a photography buff and someone who was “out in the streets” in the Sixties. Nevertheless, he was put off by some of the photographs on display, primarily the ones by Larry Clark, whose complete early works are on display. I don’t recall his reaction to the works on display by Jock Sturges, another photographer who has had troubles in the US with obscenity charges. According to Wikipedia, directors such as Gus Van Sant and Martin Scorsese have stated that they were influenced by Clark's early photography. Some of the more striking portraits of women were by Bettina Rheims, most famous for her series Chambre Close. Large prints from that series also were on display.

I think the two exhibits combined are an important exhibit for anyone interested in photography. I took home a stack of info brochures about different photographers. There are a couple of photographs by Larry Clark on display that certainly go beyond the pale of what one might expect to see at an exhibit, but the general tenor of his early work is documentary, which somewhat lessens the impact of the most extreme pictures, which are set in the context of a drug culture. The remainder of Clark’s works on display fall more in the category of homoerotic art or, more neutrally, the male as object, and certainly are appropriate works for display in a museum. I did not have a problem with Jock Sturges’s nude portraits of pubescent girls that were taken at nude beaches in the US and France, but I can understand how some folks might find them erotic and, therefore, inappropriate. I’d recommend the exhibit because of the broad range of photos on display. From low-gloss, inkjet prints to high-gloss, oversized portraits, it’s all there. It also gives the viewer a chance to form his or her own opinions about artists such as Sturges and Clark. I have a strong libertarian streak and would be uncomfortable condemning even the most extreme works shown at this exhibit. Make up your own minds. Next year the MMK is putting on another display of the remaining parts of its large photography exhibit. Not in Fashion runs until September 1, 2011; the Lucid Evidence, until April 25, 2011.

The MMK in Frankfurt -- one of my favorite buildings, inside and out
Architect: Hans Hollein, Vienna
(Pictures: Wikimedia Commons)

German-Canadian Cooperation

2010-11-30T20:29:00.004+01:00

Earlier this month we went to see a modern ballet put on by Frankfurt’s new choreographer, Crystal Pite, and her company, Kidd Pivot, now a German-Canadian cooperation. Crystal is no newcomer to Frankfurt. She danced with the Forsythe Ballet for several years in the late Nineties. Later, she was a resident choreographer for a jazz ballet company in Montreal and then founded her own dance company in Vancouver. Frankfurt managed to snatch Kidd Pivot away from Vancouver with a contract that allowed Pite to hire dancers full-time. The ballet was called “The You Show”. Here is a blurb from the sponsors: “THIS IS A PICTURE OF YOU, FALLING. KNEES, HIP, HANDS, ELBOWS, HEAD. THIS IS HOW YOU COLLAPSE. THIS IS THE SOUND OF YOUR HEART HITTING THE FLOOR. You are invited to locate yourself in the dancer, to recognize your own dramas translated into fierce physical language, and to see yourself falling and flying as the hero of your own existence. Life, whether you are superhuman or simply human, is epic.”

The ballet took place at the Mousonturm, an intimate setting in one of Frankfurt's favorite cultural centers. Crystal Pite was six months pregnant and sitting at the end of our row as the performance ran. The performances were pretty good. Some of the choreographed group movements were quite dynamic, occasionally even breathtaking. Some of the individual performances also were world class. Pite channels an incredible energy that sometimes comes close to plunging the dance into chaos. Is this intentional? Several critics I read after the performance have regarded it as a weakness of hers. In any event, I thought it was a fine evening and look forward to seeing more of her work. Frankfurt desperately needs to attract more international dance performances. I've seen a lot of top companies, and Crystal Pite's group is quite good and has potential. Afterwards, the entire crew sat in the cafe next to (and part of) the theater where we and our friends had retired for a bite to eat. The cafe also has an interesting selection of wine at reasonable prices.

The You Show already is Pite's second production in Frankfurt. I missed the first one. Check out this website for information about and a video interview with Ms. Pite.

Happy Thanksgiving

2010-11-24T14:52:00.005+01:00

To all readers stateside (and expats everywhere), I wish you a pleasant Thanksgiving weekend. I can almost hear the country shutting down for a rare four-day rest. Take a break. You deserve it. This is a time of year when even the most die-hard expat has to fight at least a twinge of homesickness. Of course, this year the turkey is not the only thing that's being patted down.

"Das in den USA und in Kanada gefeierte Thanksgiving (englisch für ‚Danksagung‘) ist eine Form des Erntedankfestes, weicht aber stark von den Bräuchen des europäischen Festes ab." (Wikipedia)

Demographics 101

2010-11-19T21:59:00.008+01:00

Shortly after we returned from summer vacation, I had a strange experience. A neighbor died. He was up on 90. We were not close, but we have been neighbors for a long time. He never married and did not have kids or close relatives, so, in the blink of an eye, his worldly belongings ended up in front of the apartment house where he lived before being carted off by the local disposal folks. In the next blink of an eye, the belongings were gone. In addition to the city disposal workers, numerous scavengers, including well-dressed and affluent neighbors and a family/band of eastern european "professionals", dropped by to carry off anything of interest.

There is something ghastly and unsettling about the whole process. The ghastly part is having all of your belongings on display for the world to see. The unsettling part is the urban equivalent of watching a carcass in the savannah being picked apart by scavengers.

Germany's population is aging quickly. "The precipitous drop will be accompanied by a dramatic shift in the amount of elderly people in Germany. Of the country's current 82 million inhabitants, some 20 percent are now aged 65. But in 2060, that percentage will increase to 33 percent."

Hardly a Trace Left of a Neighbor's Existence

Flashback 2

2010-11-19T21:34:00.001+01:00

Promenade de la Croisette

Flashback

2010-11-19T21:25:00.001+01:00

The weather has been pretty grey these past few days. I took this pic in the Palmengarten this past Spring. Kinda refreshing. Don't forget to click for an enlargement.

Bois de Vincennes

2010-11-11T18:04:00.005+01:00

One bright October weekday morning when Fräulein Bloggerboy was otherwise occupied, I took a walk in the Bois de Vincennes. Although I was familiar with the park I had never bothered to spend time there. It is a huge park. At almost 2,500 acres (10 square kilometers), it dwarfs Central Park and Hyde Park. By comparison, the Frankfurt City Forest is roughly 48 square kilometers in size.

These guys made me wish I had a bike along. I tried to rent one of the numerous bikes available in the park at public stands, but the machines would not accept my plastic.

I would be surprised if the riders were professional, but they already had passed me once, and they were moving at a good pace. I saw numerous other smaller groups riding. Only eight more months to get ready for the Tour.

Belleville Walk 4

2010-11-11T17:52:00.002+01:00

Get a load of those giant zucchini

Belleville Walk 3

2010-11-05T08:30:00.001+01:00

As we headed up towards the Parc de Belleville, a great view of the city began to emerge.

Heading uphill towards the Parc de Belleville

Parc de Belleville with Panorama View

Belleville Walk 2

2010-11-04T15:00:00.000+01:00

A couple more interesting displays near the rue Belleville.

Belleville Walk

2010-11-03T08:03:00.009+01:00

We took a walk in the Belleville area of Paris after a morning visit to the Père-Lachaise cemetery. Belleville includes one of the city's chinatowns, and a lot of artists live there as well. We found some interesting wall art. I particularly liked the votive offering (is there a better term for this?) embedded just below the plaster surface of the wall -- shown near the downspout in the picture below.

The Wall

The Votive Offering

I don't know whether the votive offering was part of the original wall art project or whether it was added by someone else. I thought it was pretty nifty. I'm pretty sure that the picture was taken on or near the rue Dènoyez, which is where graffiti artists re-spray the walls frequently. Check out this blog dedicated to the art at rue Dénoyez.

Belleville is Edith Piaf's birthplace, too, and I certainly will spend more time there on my next visit. There is a great view of Paris from the top of the Parc de Belleville. We also visited Piaf's grave at Père-Lachaise, even though the children were only interested in seeing Jim Morrison's final resting place.

Anglo-Saxon Cultural Hegemony

2010-11-02T09:58:00.001+01:00

Parisian Costume Shop Near Place de la République

"Seulement quelques enfants espèrent une réelle progression de cette fête mais pour le reste Halloween est devenue une fête complètement dépassée" (Wikipedia)

We didn't have any trick-or-treaters at our place in Frankfurt, but there were Halloween parties. Fräulein Bloggerboy attended one.

I'm Back

2010-10-27T08:36:00.001+02:00

... from a pilgrimage to one of my favorite places.

Esterel Massif

2010-10-07T21:21:00.003+02:00

As Seen from Cannes

Provence Scenery

2010-09-24T08:23:00.002+02:00

On our drive back from St. Tropez to Cannes along the coast, we stopped briefly at Cap l'Esterel, where the Esterel Massif range meets the coast. The reddish color in the rocks comes from porphyry. It reminded me a bit of the scenery near Sedona, AZ. The reds were a bit more subdued, but in exchange we had the brilliant blue ocean on our right. The Esterel Massif also contains a large nature reserve. The landscape is visible from the A8 highway, too. There are several noteworthy hikes that I have place on my to do list.

There Goes My Early Childhood

2010-09-18T09:08:00.016+02:00

On my morning surf today I stumbled across the depressing news that the final episode of the US soap opera As The World Turns aired yesterday. ATWT was the most-watched daytime drama from 1958 to 1978. It was set in the Midwest, in the fictional town of Oakdale, IL. My mother watched ATWT religiously when I was a small child. I can remember watching it with her before I was old enough to go to school and on the rare weekdays when I was home sick. I never could relate to the drama or intrigues portrayed in the show and never understood how such staid and respectable families could find themselves involved with criminals or involved with the criminal justice system as a result of their own behavior. So innocent was my life! I related best to the actors who portrayed grandparents and older adults who radiated the same kind of inner quiet that I was used to in my own life.

CBS report on last show

Check out the gas prices at the beginning of the Comet ad!

I Particularly liked the holiday shows when harmony prevailed.

The term "soap opera" relates to the fact that the companies that produced the dramas advertized their products on the show and that those products, particularly soaps and detergents, were aimed at the housewife, the "target audience", now a disappearing breed. Procter and Gamble was the producer of ATWT. My mother had worked for the company before I was born, so her loyalty to the show carried over to her loyalty to P&G products. Yes, we were a P&G family. I have not watched an episode of ATWT in over 30 years, about the time that it lost its top rating spot to more modern shows in the late Seventies and early Eighties, and certainly was not a regular viewer after starting school, but I can still recreate the mood of those early shows and the comfort and quiet of time spent watching TV in a clean house in the suburbs.

One of Many Famous P&G Products

Noise Pollution

2010-09-10T07:26:00.002+02:00

Philladelphia Bell to be Silenced by Noise Law?

I see that Germany is not the only country that has noise laws that may prevent the ringing of church bells. Philly.com reports:

For 104 years, the bell at St. John the Baptist Roman Catholic Church in hilly, blue-collar Manayunk has joyfully summoned the faithful to prayer, celebrated marriages, and marked the ends of wars. Now, in a city whose many sacred symbols include a cracked bell, someone has filed a complaint to silence St. John's 5,000-pound bronze casting. Not completely. Just in the morning. At 7. That's when it rings 18 times for the Angelus. The official reason: It's too loud.

The Rev. James A. Lyons, pastor of St. John's, received a warning letter last week from the city Health Department. The missive threatened the 179-year-old church with fines of up to $700 per day if the pealing bell is found to violate the city's 2006 noise law.

The bell has always sounded the Catholic call to prayer known as the Angelus. Traditionally, the Angelus bells sound 18 times at 6 a.m., noon, and 6 p.m. Several years ago, Lyons delayed the first Angelus to 7. "We wanted to do the neighborly thing," he said, "and give everybody a rest."

So much for being neighborly. As I said, I don't think the local churches here sound the morning Angelus.

Do You Know the Way To Saint Tropez?

2010-09-05T09:57:00.011+02:00

View of St. Tropez from Citadelle

St. Trop Harbor

A Tricky Park Job at the Yacht (Staff Waiting to Greet Owner)
[Notice the soap box and deck shoes!]

Harbor Detail

BB: The Patron Saint of St. Trop

St. Trop Old City

St. Trop View of Water from Citadelle

We took a couple of day trips to St. Tropez during our summer vacation in Cannes to drop off and pick up Fräulein Bloggerboy, who had an invitation to spend a couple of nights with a school friend whose family had a house outside town on a hillside overlooking the Bay of Pampelonne and its famous beaches. As the crow flies, St. Trop, as the locals call it (a play on the French word for "too much": trop), is not far from Cannes, but much of the route is along two-lane roads, and the traffic in season is hellacious. I had initially planned just over an hour for the 85 kilometer trip to Trop (snort), but it took two hours, the last hour of which was spent crawling in bumper to bumper traffic along the coast. We dropped Bloggerboy Junior off in town so that he could meet up with one of his school friends who also was vacationing there, and then we headed out into the hills above the city to look for Fräulein Bloggerboy's friend. Driving past countless gated communities tucked away in the Mediterranean maritime forest outside of town, I was reminded a bit of Pebble Beach and similar communities on the West Coast. We got a bit lost, but finally found our destination after a quick cell phone call for orientation. We enjoyed a quick drink of water, and the spectacular view from the pool area, before saying goodbye to Fräulein Bloggerboy, who was already in the pool and content beyond words to finally be living in the style to which she hopes to become accustomed.

Back in town, we wandered around a bit until I was thoroughly bored with window shopping. There were a lot of day tourists along the shopping streets, but many of the side streets were empty. We weren't really in the mood for a warm meal at late midday, and many of the restaurants were shutting down. I felt a pastis coming on and left Frau Bloggerboy to her further explorations. For me, there is great vacation value just sitting in a cafe near a sandy, public square, watching people play boules. And that's just what I did.

Contrary to popular belief, boules is an exciting game AND a great spectator sport. Those guys sitting on the benches were really getting into the game. Gathering around the balls after a round to discuss the finer points of who won can take plenty of time as well.

No matter how fancy a place St. Tropez claims to be, it is built up around a simple fishing village. It caters to rich and famous peopel who prefer to keep a low profile and retreat to their gated villas, but there are lots of normal folks and locals as well. The yacht harbor in Monaco or Cannes offers more big yachts per square meter than the one in St. Trop. The Croisette in Cannes or the Boulevard des Anglais in Nice offers more bling bling per kilometer with their fancy hotels and restaurants. I prefer Cannes, not because of the bling bling, but because it offers more city life, more dining choices at reasonable prices -- and great film memories! I'm afraid that I am a minority of one in the Bloggerboy family. The beaches at Pampelonne are top notch, and that seems to be the main criterion for the rest of my family. Sitting in my cafe at the sandy village square of St. Tropez in the afternoon heat, sipping on my pastis, I quickly forgot about the yachts, the Ferraris, and the tourists and drifted into the realm of that eternal France that lives in my head. I was deeply content.

The three of us later headed back to Cannes. Later that evening, we took revenge on Fräulein Bloggerboy by having a superb meal in a nice reataurant near the harbor. I had a large raw platter with oysters, clams, shrimp, crab and sea snails, all washed down with a crisp Côtes-de Provence Rosé. I felt better after that and ordered three scoops of sorbet to get me ready for our walk home and bed. Two days later we drove back to pick up Fräulein Bloggerboy. I dropped the wife and son off at one of the Pampelonne beaches for a couple of hours of sunbathing and rushed into town to take the pictures that I was too lazy to take on our first day trip. Later, I picked up the daughter, and then the wife and son, and we drove along the coast to Cannes, the children moaning about the slow going the whole way back. More later.

Tahiti Beach, one of the Pampelonne Beaches

Taxi Service Mama -- Going out of Business Notice

2010-09-01T08:15:00.006+02:00

We live about two kilometers from the school that Bloggerboy Junior and Fräulein Bloggerboy attend. For years, Frau Bloggerboy (aka "Mama") has gotten up early, fixed breakfast for the kiddies, and driven them to school. "Poor teenagers with their quirky metabolisms need as much sleep as possible", or so goes the rationalization for the added service of not having to walk to school to be there by eight. Public transportation is not cheap, either. A subway ticket to school for both kiddies would cost over 3 Euros one way, so, ignoring wear and tear on the car, it probably still made economic sense to drive rather than buy tickets. Of course, we have one annual ticket that can be used by any one family member during the day (and by all four of us in the evening and on weekends), so my math is a bit twisted.

The past couple of years, though, the frequency of having to buy additional subway tickets for the second child pushed us to the point where it started to make sense to look at an extra monthly ticket for Fräulein Bloggerboy. There is a discounted ticket for kids in school, but, at just under EUR 60 a month, the ticket is not cheap. Yesterday, I finally broke down and bought a monthly ticket for Fräulein Bloggerboy for September. I waited eagerly for her to come home so that I could break the news to her that she was free to jump on the subway any time now without having to worry about having money in her pocket. I think she sensed that there was a catch to this new development. Indeed, we tried to break the news gently to her that Taxi Service Mama is going out of business. At 14, it is time for our Fräulein to start spreading her wings.

To make a long story short, this morning, confronted with the prospect of having to leave the house twenty to thirty minutes earlier to get to school on time, Fräulein Bloggerboy pleaded with her mother to drive her to school "one last time". We teased her a bit but decided to indulge her "one last time". This is a big event in the Bloggerboy family -- one more step towards an empty nest. I think that Mama is torn by this transition. I'm not. Our children demand their independence every day and remind us constantly of what all the other children are entitled to do. Well, here is a taste of independence that is bittersweet. We'll still remind you to get up, and breakfast will be on the table for the foreseeable future, but, dear daughter, you are now responsible for getting yourself to school on time with no further recriminations that your brother or mother is making you late. Cruel world!

"Taxi Mama": Jedes fünfte Kind wird mit dem Auto zur Schule gebracht

Hamburg, 11. August 2010. Morgens gemütlich an der Straßenecke mit den Nachbarskindern treffen und dann gemeinsam zur Schule gehen - bei Wind und Wetter. Das war einmal. Die Realität heute: Am Lenkrad des Familien-Vans gehetzte Mütter, die ihre Sprösslinge pünktlich um acht Uhr bei der Schule abliefern müssen. Dauerstau vor Grundschultoren, gestresste Kinder, die mit Ranzen und Turnbeutel bepackt aus den Autos klettern. Diesen Trend zum "Taxi Mama" bestätigt auch eine Elternumfrage des Forsa-Instituts im Auftrag der Techniker Krankenkasse (TK). Demnach wird jedes fünfte Grundschulkind mit dem Auto in die Schule kutschiert.

Search Term of the Day

2010-08-27T08:41:00.002+02:00

Continuing my unhealthy pattern of search term envy, I dug out this search term that led to my site recently:

"cool thoughts on life"

Not only did the search term lead to my site, there was no bounce. The searcher called up three pages and lingered at my site for a grand total of, er, over 40 seconds. And no, I did not plant that term in my blog to attract searchers. So, continue visiting Welcome Visitor for more cool thoughts on life. (Now I've planted it, twice.)

Lust for Life

2010-08-24T20:31:00.004+02:00

Yesterday I watched Lust for Life, Vincente Minnelli's film based on the life of Vincent Van Gogh starring Kirk Douglas. I really liked the film and sat up when Van Gogh picked up a copy of Millet's Angelus and praised it. Millet had a big influence on Van Gogh's work, especially during his early years but also in later periods. Many of Van Gogh's works are direct interpretations of Millet's work. Both artists devoted attention to the lowliest workers -- farmers, miners, tradesmen. I thought Kirk Douglas did a great job portraying Van Gogh. Interestingly, Anthony Quinn won the Oscar for best supporting actor in this film for his short appearance as Paul Gauguin, but Douglas only received a nomination, no Oscar, as leading actor. The Oscar for best actor went to Yul Brynner in The King and I. Hmmm.

Millet

Van Gogh

Millet

Van Gogh

Millet

Van Gogh

Kirk Douglas as Van Gogh

Engel des Herrn / Angelus

2010-08-20T20:56:00.002+02:00

Jean-Francois Millet -- L'Angélus

One of the most obvious differences between daily life in Europe and the US is the prevalence of church bells. Just over a year ago, I moved my work space to a different location and now am able to hear nearby church bells at regular intervals. There are bells at noon and at six p.m. each day. Occasionally, there are more festive chimes, and on Sundays, bells announce church services about to commence. I never really gave much thought to the order behind the bells, but I enjoyed a brief mid-day pause at noon to listen to the bells and to catch a breath before working towards my lunch break. In the evening, I enjoyed the six o'clock bells as either a reward for a day of work or, if longer hours were required, as a promise of work soon to be set aside. In any event, the mood that the bells create, even the simple chime of a single bell, repeated several times, was pensive and pleasant. The other day we were over at the mother-in-law's for Kaffeetrinken (still haven't delved into that ritual), sitting on the terrace in her garden, and I asked about the bells. My mother-in-law took me into her house and showed me a reproduction of Millet's painting (shown above) hanging in their entrance area, and introduced me to the term "Engel des Herrn" (Angelus, literally "Angel of the Lord"), which is a catholic prayer repeated three times a day by the devout. According to Wikipedia, "the devotion was traditionally recited in Roman Catholic churches, convents, and monasteries three times daily: 6:00 am, noon, and 6:00 pm (many churches still follow the devotion, and some practice it at home). The devotion is also used by some Anglican and Lutheran churches. The Angelus is usually accompanied by the ringing of the Angelus bell, which is to spread good-will to everyone on Earth. The angel referred to in the prayer is the Angel Gabriel, a messenger of God who revealed to Mary that she would conceive a child to be born the Son of God. (Luke 1:26-38)."

Of particular interest to me in my follow-up reading is that the German environmental laws (Bundes-Immissionsschutzgesetz) may actually prohibit the ringing of the morning bells as noise pollution that disturbs the "night silence" (Nachtruhe). I don't recall ever hearing bells at six in the morning. The church down the street that rings its bells at noon and six is a protestant church. The classic Angelus ringing is supposed to be a total of nine rings of three rings each separated by a pause. The protestant church just rings its bells uninterrupted for about twenty to thirty seconds. In the center of town, I have heard fairly intricate ringing of numerous church bells at six p.m. to mark the end of the day. Particularly in the dark periods of the year, the atmosphere is quite pleasant, as people leave their workplaces to run errands or head home.

I'm a bit embarrassed at not having known much about this tradition before now, but I certainly have enjoyed the church bells all these years.

Pit Stop: Lyon

2010-08-10T13:46:00.006+02:00

We drove to the Côte d'Azur from Frankfurt, stopping for the night in Lyon after a six-plus hour drive. I had hoped to get to Lyon early enough to explore the old city in the late afternoon, but by the time we found our hotel and got freshened up, it was time to eat dinner. Bloggeroy is a planner, so my fallback plan had been to find a hotel near an interesting site. The fact that the interesting site was a famous restaurant is not coincidence.

According to Wikipedia, Brasserie Georges is the oldest Brasserie in Lyon. A brasserie is a type of restaurant with a relaxed, upscale setting, which serves single dishes and other meals. The word 'brasserie' is also French for brewery and, by extension, "the brewing business". A brasserie can be expected to have professional service and printed menus (unlike a bistro which may have neither). Typically, a brasserie is open every day of the week and serves the same menu all day. Many famous people have eaten at Brasserie Georges, including Paul Verlaine, Jules Verne, Émile Zola, Édith Piaf, Colette, Ernest Hemingway, Jacques Brel, Alphonse Daudet, Anatole France, Léon Blum, Auguste and Louis Lumiere, Luis Mariano, and Auguste Rodin. It is claimed that the poet Lamartine, or his estate, still owes the restaurant 40 Francs.

What a coincidence: right next to our hotel!

Upscale Setting

Professional Waiters and an Art Deco Interior

"Good Beer and Good Food Since 1836"

Contrary to the impression that the pictures may give, Brasserie Georges, true to its name, is quite relaxed, and the prices, albeit not cheap, were not unreasonable. Check out the menu here. I had a glass of their golden-colored microbrew as apéritif and ordered their three-course Menu Lyonnais with cheese but no dessert for EUR 21 (one of the better values on the menu). I had the calves' foot salad as entrée and the pistachio sausage in white wine sauce with homemade mashed potatoes as my main dish. The calves' foot salad was chewy; the dressing was creamy, probably adding the only flavor to the gelatinous chunks of calves' foot. The pistachio sausage was just fine, enhanced nicely by the creamy white wine sauce. The cheese was a ripe Saint Marcellin, a perfect ending to my simple menu. Frau Bloggerboy and I shared a half-bottle of Sancerre with our meal. Frau Bloggerboy ate snails, er, escargot, and frogs' legs and so did Bloggerboy Junior! Fräulein Bloggerboy was not very hungry, so she ordered a portion of homemade mashed potatoes. The service was friendly and attentive. The waiters helped us out with their limited English when we got stuck on a question. Afterwards, we drove through the city for a bit and then headed back to our hotel for a good night's sleep. I will return to Lyon at some later point to enjoy the city. The old center of town looked really nice. I certainly will have Brasserie Georges on my radar when I return.

Summer Dreams

2010-07-24T15:19:00.002+02:00

Only three days left until arrival.

Not My Hotel

Not My Yacht

My Pastis

Bonnes Vacances!

Don't Discuss Politics with an Ibex

2010-07-19T15:19:00.002+02:00

Reminds me of the heated debates we had back in my student days

Online Security Questions

2010-07-17T14:09:00.002+02:00

Don't you just love the additional online security questions that banks and other institutions ask after you enter your password?

"What was your grandmother's first name?" Which grandmother? I had two. Do you think I can remember which one I entered three years ago?

The question that really gets me is "What was the name of your elementary school?" It goes straight to one of the most sensitive places in my tender psyche. You see, from grades one through six I attended a total of six elementary schools. It wasn't THAT bad. A couple of them were temporary pending completion of new schools. Every time that question pops up on my login screen I pause. My mind runs over each of the schools, usually starting with the last one, the one I spent the most time attending. I don’t know what prompted me to pick the first elementary school that I attended as the answer. I guess I was afraid that I would forget the choice if I picked one of the other schools. And it worked. I always get the answer right. But by the time I’m finally logged in, I’m exhausted.

Tour 2010

2010-07-15T21:18:00.004+02:00

Armstrong & Basso in 2004 -- Better Days

If you've been following the 2010 Tour de France, you know that Lance Armstrong has practically no chance of winning the Tour. At 38, Armstrong claims that this will be his last Tour. I watched part of the mountain stage that finished Lance off, the 8th stage. He was involved in a total of three crashes, one of which left him with bleeding elbows, a bleeding knee, and a bruised hip. For the most part, the crashes were not Armstrong's fault, so I feel a bit sorry for him. I don't think that he could have won the Tour this year, but he deserved to go out with a fighting chance. To add insult to injury, after his worst crash, the other riders did not slow down to allow him to catch up, a questionable breach of one of the unwritten rules of etiquette in the race. Of course, Armstrong was not in the lead or near the lead at the point that he crashed, but the continuation of the high pace resulted in him ending the stage so far behind in the overall race that he could not realistically catch up. Now comes the test of Armstrong’s character. I’m curious to see what approach Team Radio Shack takes to the rest of the race. Will they try to keep the next-best rider, Levi Leipheimer, near the top of the chart? Will they try to win the overall team competition? Will they try to take numerous stages and showcase new talent? I hope to see Armstrong pulling his weight in the team and allowing others to share the limelight. He’s had an incredible string of victories and luck. Sooner or later the luck runs out, as it did for Lance. The Tour de Lance is over. Long live the Tour.

Cool Thoughts

2010-07-15T20:52:00.000+02:00

Memories of Colder Days For People Having Trouble Cooling Off

Palmengarten, January 2010

I'm Melting!

2010-07-12T11:02:00.005+02:00

I don't think we've broken any records yet, but this has been one of the lengthier hot stretches that I can remember in Frankfurt. It is 10:30 a.m. as I write, and the temperature in my room is at 88 degrees Fahrenheit or just over 31 Celsius. It is expected to go up to 35 C today, or 95 F. Please remember that most Germans, including the Bloggerboy family, do not have air conditioning. I grew up in the Southern United States, but we had AC in our homes, cars and offices. One summer, I lived in a southern college dorm without AC and felt that I had finally become a true southerner, able to compare notes with someone who had experienced the South before the days of AC. Based on my experience, I can confirm that it is HOT and uncomfortable. I still handle the heat better than most Germans, but it isn't fun.

Saturday and Sunday were the worst days, breaking 100 degrees F or roughly 38 C. One thermometer in town showed 44 C, or 111 F in the sun on Saturday. We sat in our living room yesterday with the curtains drawn and a fan going. The air was humid. There was no wind. Even at 10 p.m. last night the air outside was hotter than in our apartment, so we could not open up for fresh air. I slept downstairs to take advantage of the three of four degree Fahrenheit temperature difference. My room temperature had dropped to a “comfortable" 28 C or 82 F this morning with doors and windows open. Upstairs it was still 30 C or 86 F. The weather finally is supposed to break tomorrow, as it inevitably does in Northern Europe, but whew boy, this was a hefty stretch of hot weather, and it is supposed to get hot again after tomorrow's short weather break. My work productivity has dropped dramatically. I’m basically staggering to the finish line in two weeks when I shut down for a two-week vacation near water. By mid-August, the worst of the summer heat is usually over and, with a regularity by which you could set your watch, the last days of August usually include a whiff of fall in the air. I'm trying to enjoy summer while it lasts.

It could be worse. I could have been on a high-speed train this weekend. As Deutsche Welle reported: “On Saturday, Germany recorded the warmest day in the year with temperatures over 38 degrees Celsius (102 degrees Fahrenheit) in some places including the capital Berlin. And authorities say there's no cool-down in sight for the rest of the weekend. The high temperatures on Sunday forced Germany's rail operator Deutsche Bahn to evacuate three high-speed trains whose air conditioning systems had broken down, the company said. News agency DAPD quoted Hans-Dieter Muehlenberg, chief of a local rescue squad, as saying temperatures inside the trains had reached 50 degrees Celsius (122 degrees Fahrenheit) and that nine people were hospitalized.”

Anglo-Saxon readers probably will recognize the photo of Margaret Hamilton as the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz from 1939. I sure wish someone would throw a bucket of cold water on me.

Kirchner in Frankfurt

2010-07-11T14:49:00.010+02:00

A few weeks ago we went to see the Kirchner Retrospective at the Staedel Museum. With 170 works on display, it is a fairly large exhibit covering his entire productive period and the different styles of work and media. It is the first major retrospective in Germany in thirty years. Kirchner was a founding member of Die Brücke, one of the artist groups at the turn of the 20th century that developed the subjective painting style known as expressionism. He was born in 1880 in Aschaffenberg, Bavaria, not far from Frankfurt. He was one of the major victims of the nazi attacks on "degenerate" art. His works were confiscated and removed from museums, including the Staedel. Kirchner had left Germany for Davos in 1917, suffering from panic attacks and depression during his brief stint in the military. He did not fight in WWI. Kirchner committed suicide in 1938, shortly after Germany had annexed Austria and before World War II started.

Kirchner was a bit tricky about the sources of his influences. He vocally denied being influenced by certain painters or movements, even going as far as backdating some of his works. Standing in front of the paintings, his influences, particularly in his early and late works, are obvious. Walking through rooms full of Kirchner paintings involves taking a bath in rich colors and strong lines. The emotions are cool to nightmarish, sensual to neurotic. I really liked his engravings and World War I works with their dark moods. His street scenes of Berlin are perhaps his most famous works, as are the works showing the young girls who lived near the artist colony where Kirchner lived and the nude portraits of Kirchner's and his colleagues's partners. In spite of his impressive body of work, there is something vaguely dissatisfying about his work as a whole, something missed, left out or surpressed. Nevertheless, many of his works are worth visiting repeatedly, and an exhibit of this size was an exceptional treat. The Staedel website linked above also has English content (click "en" in the upper right of the screen). In particular, there is a lengthy, informative video with English subtitles that you can watch. Max Hollein, the Staedel's director who also appears in the video, has been a dynamic force in Frankfurt for top-notch exhibits, and the Staedel has an excellent collection of Kirchner's work.

Marzella 1909

Berlin Street 1913

Erna 1930

Another Search Term

2010-07-08T16:43:00.000+02:00

"german frau near frankfurt with large teeth"

Whatever turns you on.

Reims

2010-07-08T14:58:00.005+02:00

The Cathedral Notre-Dame de Reims

Rose Window above Main Entrance

West Portal Sculpture

Yesterday's Tour de France stage ended in Reims*. I watched the end of the race. Many of the hay and grain fields outside of town were already brown, interspersed with lusher green fields. The grain fields reminded me of my first trip to Reims many summers ago and the "aha" moment I had when I first saw the cathedral. We were exploring the back roads on our way from Frankfurt to Brittany in high summer. If you spend time in France, drive the back roads if you have the time. There is so little traffic and so much beauty that it would be foolish not to. It was a hot, hazy day. We approached Reims from the east along a narrow two-lane country road running through endless fields and small towns. As I got to the top of a long, rising slope, I suddenly saw the cathedral on the horizon. From my perspective it looked as if it was rising out of a golden-brown field. Nothing else was visible. I pulled the car over to the side of the road and admired the view. Immediately, I understood the effect that such a building must have had on a medieval pilgrim, rising improbably on the horizon, the tallest structure to be seen. The pictures are from a more recent trip when we stopped off in Reims with the kids on our way to Paris for a weekend visit. The cathedral's exterior was and is undergoing a lengthy renovation. I noticed scaffolding at the cathedral on TV as well. I think I'll have a pastis this evening.

* No, it is not pronounced "reems" or "rhymes". Here are a couple of examples of how it is pronounced.

Straw Widower / Grass Widower

2010-07-06T09:13:00.001+02:00

The Germans have a phrase to describe a married person who temporarily is away from his or her spouse: Strohwitwer (male) or Strohwitwe (female). The origins of the term are not clear. One theory suggests that the word straw refers to the straw in the mattresses of old. That makes sense. I guess nowadays you'd have "down widowers" and "down widows" following the logic. Never mind.

Allegedly there is an English term "Grass Widow" that has similar meanings. The linked website speculates on the origins of the term, which are as obscure as with the German term. "Another theory is that it’s slang from the British Raj for wives sent away during the hot summer to the cooler (and greener) hill stations while their husbands remained on duty in the plains. We can trace this theory back to the famous Anglo-Indian dictionary Hobson-Jobson of 1886. It says that the term is applied 'with a shade of malignancy', a tantalisingly opaque comment."

In any event, I am a straw widower this week. I guess that means that Mrs. Bloggerboy is a ~~grass~~ straw widow. She definitely is in a cooler (and greener) hill station with Fräulein Bloggerboy. Bloggerboy Junior is off to more southerly places. The place is quiet. I have lots of work to do. I think once a year or so this kind of interruption in our hectic lives is healthy. Of course, I already have been warned by my father to behave myself. Don't worry, as long as the World Cup is running, I'm not going to stray too far from my TV.

World Cup, What World Cup?

2010-07-04T13:07:00.001+02:00

Of course, if you're French, you're probably trying to forget about this year's World Cup. What better occasion than the Tour de France to drink of the River Lethe and forget your former life as a football superpower. Cylcling. France is a great cycling country.

I was pleased to see that the Tour start took place in the Netherlands this year and will also go through Belgium.

Lance is riding again.

There are swallows circling over my apartment.

It must be summer.

A Sign of Life

2010-07-03T14:38:00.000+02:00

You may have guessed by now that I have been following the World Cup matches closely. Somewhere along the way I got hooked on watching the World Cup. America has dropped by the wayside, too early in my opinion given their talents. Today is the big game between Germany and Argentina. The weather has been quite hot by German standards, breaking 35 degrees Celsius the last couple of days and headed there again today. That's 95 degrees Fahrenheit by my metric calculator WITH NO AIR CONDITIONING. Needless to say, I'm not going to public viewing today. A couple of friends are coming over for coffee, cake and soccer viewing.

Go Germany!

A Departure

2010-06-17T17:20:00.004+02:00

A man takes his young teenage daughter to the train station to drop her off for an overnight school field trip. As usual, the man is ahead of schedule. The girl is used to appearing stylishly late. She is concerned about being the first one at the track. Her father escorts her to the international news stand to avoid embarrassment. They each buy their favorite periodicals. They are still early. Now she's worried that she'll be the first girl there. She says: "ich will nicht da stehen wie ein Lauch." (I don't want to stand there like an idiot.) Suddenly, at a distance of twenty yards, she notices a small group of girls from her class, and her face brightens. She gives her father a hug, tells him she loves him, grabs the suitcase and heads off, not looking back.

European Central Bank

2010-06-12T09:53:00.001+02:00

Moving on to more respectable topics, the Ostend will be altered significantly when the European Central Bank headquarters is completed. The site of the ECB is directly on the Main near the mouth of the Eastern Harbor (Osthafen). Frankfurt's huge Wholesale Market Hall was located there until it closed in 2004. The market hall stood under landmark protection, having been built in 1928 using a design by architect Martin Elsaesser and being considered a major example of expressionist architecture. The new tower will be

"inserted" into the old market building. As with so many historical places in Germany, the Nazis also left their mark here, having converted the market to a collecting point for the deportation of Jewish people. The renovation project is supposed to include a memorial for the deported Jews that will be created in cooperation with Frankfurt's Jewish Museum.

The Wholesale Market Hall Before it was Gutted

If you enter Frankfurt along the Main from upstream, the new ECB headquarters site will offer an impressive view of the city.

View of Skyline from Main near ECB Site

Here are a few pictures of the current construction site. As you can see, there is a viewing structure for visitors to see where their tax euros are being invested.

Finally, here is an artist's rendition of what the new headquarters will look like when completed:

Recently, we rode bikes in Frankfurt with German friends from Heidelberg. The husband has been active in promoting European integration since his student days. We stopped in front of the construction site. Given the current Euro crisis, I made a remark to the effect that by the time the building is complete there may no longer be a Euro currency to manage. I was not trying to be snarky, but I did want to see what our friend thought of the current crisis and hoped to get a conversation started. I sensed, however, that the topic was too painful for our friend when he looked away and simply said that, no, the Euro will survive. He really was not in the mood to discuss things further. Time will tell what happens to the Euro, but the building is a testimony to the seriousness of the goals, and the site's location, a reminder of the need for some level of European integration after two devastating 20th century wars. People often forget the urgency of the EU project after WWII now that everything seems settled, peaceful and irreversible.

Farewell to an Ostend Institution

2010-06-10T15:54:00.007+02:00

Near the New ECB Headquarters

(Warning: some of the links in this post are to web pages that contain pictures of naked people. For that reason, you will have to cut and paste the links if you wish to view the pages, and by doing so you declare to me that you are legally entitled to look at naked people, and that you won't hold me responsible for the consequences of having exposed yourself to such pictures.) Continuing our tour of the Ostend neighborhood near the new European Central Bank headquarters site, as you head back towards town along the river you pass an innocuous-looking building next to a hotel. It looks pleasant enough, with plenty of flowers on the balconies. The only thing that tips you off that the building might contain something unusual is a small sign “FKK Südfass”. For the uninitiated, FKK stands for “Freikörperkultur” (http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freik%C3%B6rperkultur), which is the German term for naturism or nudism (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naturism). Yes, Germany is where the nudist movement started back in the early 20th century as part of a focus on getting back to nature and concentrating on health and fitness. I’ll write more about that later. The business known as Südfass really has little to do with naturism. You see, it is a famous Frankfurt Bordello.

Prostitution was legalized in Germany in 2002. Before that, there were certain areas in each major German city where prostitution was tolerated. I’m writing about Südfass because it recently closed its doors after almost 40 years. The building is scheduled to be torn down to make room for more upscale uses consistent with the proximity to the ECB headquarters and the major urban renewal project in the Ostend these past years. I know some cynics will say that having a bunch of central bankers running around is worse on a neighborhood than a few prostitutes. I am a witness to change, having been here for twenty years, and this post is dedicated to the archival purpose of documenting what I’ve seen since I’ve been here. Let me be more precise: I’ve never been inside the Südfass, but many Germans and visitors, some of them prominent, have been. There have even been books written about the Südfass. Compared to the houses in the red light district near the train station, Südfass almost seems respectable. While it still exists, I’ll also post a link to Südfass’s website with the warning that it contains erotic content: http://www.dassudfass.de. There even are English language pages (well almost English) at the site, but the pictures speak an international language. For someone not familiar with German ways, visiting the website might give you an impression of a part of life here that one does not normally associate with the frequently staid and bourgeois Germans (I can hear the cynics snickering again).

Deutschherrnufer -- The Main Triangel

2010-06-09T20:48:00.003+02:00

This building is directly across from the site of the new European Central Bank headquarters. It is called the Main Triangel, and it is one of the more interesting buildings near the Main. The architects clearly had a sense of play and of humor, because, depending on the angle from which you view the building, it may look like a sail or even a sinking ship. I'm always amazed at the different perspectives the building offers at varying distances.

From across the river it looks fairly straightforward.

Downstream a bit, and you start to appreciate the difference.

She's sinking.

Sail Away (upper right portion of pic)

The area near the Main Triangel is known as the Deutschherrnufer, and it is a new, upscale mixed use area with nice apartments along the river. The Main Triangel itself is actually two buildings with a common roof angle (the sail and the boat, so to speak). There is very little car traffic in the neighborhood, and I occasionally leave the congested river bike path on busy weekends to browse through the side streets.

The last picture is from one of the Sachsenhausen websites.

Another American in Frankfurt

2010-06-06T11:07:00.002+02:00

I was riding my bike near the site of the new European Central Bank headquarters that is under construction. The site is just outside the old city near Frankfurt's Osthafen, or eastern river harbor, that has a long history of light industrial use. Normally, there is no car traffic along the river at this point. I was getting ready to take a picture of the crane when an American cousin, driven by Germans, headed my way. They drove past me until there was nowhere to go, got out, and began discussing the site of an event that they were planning along the river. What a great photo op for me.

Cruising on a Saturday Afternoon

OK, I'm envious

Poached Eggs

2010-06-03T21:42:00.006+02:00

I started working part-time in restaurants when I was 16 and continued on and off through undergrad. I rarely made it past dishwasher. I did have a stint as a burger slopper at McDonalds in high school, but otherwise, dishwasher. Later on, I had the good fortune of working in two high-class joints: one a French restaurant and one, well, just a fancy place with a neat setting and a real mish-mash of upscale food, including a really hot Sunday brunch. (Of course, when you are up to your elbows in dirty dishes, pots, and pans, even the fanciest restaurant is pretty plain.) Both restaurants used chefs with professional training, including some from the CIA. The Sunday brunch shift was my first encounter with poached eggs made the old-fashioned way. I was familiar with Egg McMuffins from my stint at McDonalds, and the parents had one of those funny-looking Teflon egg steamers that pass for egg poachers, but I knew from my perch at the sink overlooking the brunch chefs that the poached egg, not to mention hollandaise sauce, involved some of the first principles of cooking. The head chef made large batches of both poached eggs and hollandaise sauce for Eggs Benedict and Eggs Florentine, and he leaned over his boiling water and sauce pan like a priest performing transubstantiation. Young and inexperienced as I was back then, I was in awe of this man. Now, many years later, I approach learning with much more self-confidence and, voila, I have stripped cooking of much of its mystery. The following video describes the way I make poached eggs. It's actually quite easy, and the eggs come out much more nicely than either the teflon steamed or McMuffin variety.

How to make poached eggs

Erotic Tomatoes

2010-06-03T19:11:00.002+02:00

That should generate a few hits. Yes, I had what I can only describe as an erotic experience with tomatoes the other day. I developed a hankering for Huevos Rancheros and, instead of slopping something together, I spent a couple of hours on the web researching different recipes and techniques for making not only ranchero sauce, but also poached eggs. I'll relate my experience to you over the next couple of posts.

After researching ranchero sauce, I found one poster who opined that roasted tomatoes make the best ranchero sauce. That sounded good to me, so I googled "roasted tomatoes" and found a recipe at Every Day with Rachel Ray that looked quite simple. Back in the day, I often watched Rachel on the Food Chanel during family vacations stateside and loved her wholesome ways. There really is nothing like Food TV here in Germany, just a bunch of cooking shows on different channels. I spent too much money at the Kleinmarkthalle on Roma Tomatoes that could have been riper. The next time, I'm going to look for overripe tomatoes at a street market and try to cut a deal with the vendor. I left the skins on the tomatoes, scraped out the seeds and seasoned according to Rachel's recipe. I then baked the tomatoes in accordance with Rachel's time, using my trusty internet converter to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius. I had to take them out a bit early, because they were starting to get black around the edges. The aroma in the apartment was quite nice by the time I took the tomatoes out. After they had cooled a bit I removed the skins by hand, and that's when I had my erotic experience. The aromas were hypnotizing, and my hands were all squishy with the "tomatoey" paste that I scraped off the skin. Garlic, lots of garlic aromas, too. I've never felt this way about tomatoes. After I was done, I licked my fingers and tasted a sweetness that I normally don't associate with tomatoes. Of course, my fingers still smelled of garlic the next day, but that is a small price to pay for such fun in the kitchen. I'm going to add roasted tomatoes to many of my dishes in the future. Back in college I already had adopted the trick of adding a bit of sugar to my spaghetti sauce to bring out the tomato and other flavors in the sauce. My ranchero sauce had a natural sweetness from the roasted tomatoes that did not require adding sugar. The peppers added heat, making a great blend of sweet and spicy, perfect for a breakfast dish.

Not much to look at, but boy do they taste good!

Pull Harmonicas and Mouth Harmonicas -- A Public Service Announcement

2010-05-20T20:31:00.018+02:00

I needed a haircut today, so I sneaked off at three to travel to my favorite barber in Bornheim and didn't make it back until seven. After my haircut, I headed back to the subway station, paused, and kept on walking up the Berger Strasse until I found a news stand. I purchased Die Zeit, Germany's leading weekly newspaper that comes out on Thursdays. I then wandered down the Berger Strasse until I reached the Cafe Mirador (Picture from Website below).

Sitting out on a Mild Evening at Cafe Mirador in Bornheim

The weather was cool and drizzly, so I sat indoors. The place was fairly empty. I ordered a glass of red wine and the "Mirador Plate", a small tapas plate with slices of chorizo, serrano ham, manchego cheese and a few olives, slices of tomato, and cucumber. (I like the design and variety of the Mirador Menu.) It is a great place to sit outside on a sunny day for a late breakfast or to wrap up an evening with a drink and a snack. I've never eaten a full meal here, so I cannot vouch for the kitchen. The average client age is probably around thirty, but no one cares if there are a few old farts mixed in, as long as they don't get the upper hand. I read the newspaper while listening to my Shuffle and keeping an eye on the young crowd.

Where was I? Oh yes, there was an article in Die Zeit (er, in der Zeit) about the 10th International World Music Festival 2010 in Innsbruck, Austria that took place from May 13 through 16. I linked to the Facebook Page, because I was having trouble finding the official page. The entire city was booked out for the event that only takes place every three years. Here is an excerpt from the 2010 Program:

Welcome to the 10th International World Music Festival 2010! In the year 1983, Arnold Kutzli brought the Festival for the first time to Innsbruck, at that time titled as “International Accordion-Festival with Harp-Gathering”.

Since that time the festival has not only developed to an epitome in the world of music, the supporting program has developed as well in its variety and was accepted with pleasure by all music friends from many countries all over the world. In Innsbruck the friends of harmonica instruments meet from all over the world, furthermore the festival represents the convincing reflection of today’s accordion orchestra. I am sure: the 10th World Music Festival will be an unforgettable event for all participants, happening in the beautiful and fantastic region of Innsbruck. Many new impressions, open minded people and playing music together will contribute at the best to a great success.

I am looking forward to your participation and I’ll keep my fingers crossed for your success.

Hedy Stark-Fussnegger

We've finally come to the title of my post. An accordion in German is often referred to as a Ziehharmonika (literally, a "pull harmonica"), although Akkordeon may be the more appropriate term. What we Americans refer to as a harmonica is called a Mundharmonika (literally "mouth harmonica"). The 10th International World Music Festival is, indeed, limited to "competitive and non-competitive performance for harmonica instruments in orchestras and ensembles." (harmonicas and accordions)

Now, I've gotten used to listening to solo accordion or an accordion playing in a band at one of my favorite blogs, but the thought of listening to an entire orchestra made up of accordions ... well, I'm not there yet. Chamber Music with accordion? Not ready. The final competition with awards ceremony takes place in the Olympic Stadium with the Alps in the background. If that doesn't make you want to yodel, nothing will. So, Mr. A., put on your Lederhosen and get over here for the 2013 competition. FYI, there is a special category of "senior hobby accordion orchestras and ensembles". I don't know whether Canada was represented this year. Someone should look into this. A warning, though, from Hedy Stark-Fussnegger for those lightheaded enough to think they can just come in and ~~polka~~ waltz away with a prize: "The jury is composed out of international acknowledged and experienced specialists. Their decisions are final and incontestable."

Crank it up a Notch

"Oh bliss! Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity

made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like

silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. As I

slooshied, I knew such lovely pictures!" -- Alex DeLarge, Clockwork Orange

(listening to Beethoven's Ninth Symphony)

I'll lighten up this serious post with one of my favorite sayings: "A gentleman is someone who knows how to play the accordion, but doesn't." You can find similar jokes for your favorite accordion player at this website. Use them sparingly so that you don't offend him or her. You might regret it some day.

What is Wild Asparagus?

2010-05-10T18:37:00.004+02:00

I've been puzzling over the difference between what we ate in Alsace that was called wild asparagus and what was sold to me at the Kleinmarkthalle and called wild asparagus, and I think I've found the answer.

On Saturday, the wild asparagus were very similar to the green asparagus that I bought. As I have written before, the wild asparagus that we ate in Alsace was more like a wild grass.

I Meant the Grassy Stuff up Front

The grassy stuff that I have been referring to as wild asparagus is not really asparagus at all. From my Wiki research, "Ornithogalum pyrenaicum, also called Prussian Asparagus, wild asparagus, Bath Asparagus, Pyrenees Star of Bethlehem or Spiked Star of Bethlehem, is a plant whose young flower shoots may be eaten as a vegetable, similar to asparagus." The French Wiki entry for Ornithogale des Pyrénées also includes more common terms such as "asperge des bois" or "aspergette". There is also the term "asperges sauvages", and I have seen pictures of both types of green asparagus shown with that term when I googled it. I have trouble imagining that what was being sold at the Kleinmarkthalle was really wild. I suspect that it was feral at best. In any event, although all three types belong to the same order, Asparagales, the family, genus and species are different. I bet even vegetable dealers get this confused. The added bonus is the nexus with the Pyrénées. Keep your eyes out on your hikes next early Spring, Margaret. I hear the asperges des bois have an early season.

Spontaneity with a Side Order of Asparagus

2010-05-09T13:09:00.004+02:00

Yesterday was one of those rare days when spontaneity ruled, producing a rich blend of interaction with friends and a great movie experience. I went into town to return an overdue book and to buy asparagus at the Kleinmarkthalle, hoping to get to the bottom of what I now refer to as The Great Asparagus Debate. Afterwards, I treated myself to a Cappuccino and the newest issue of The Economist at one of my favorite cafes. I was deep into The Economist, thinking about ordering a second Cappuccino, when a couple of friends sneaked up and snapped a picture of me with my head buried in the magazine, and then joined me for coffee. They were showing a young guest from France around town and wanted to go to the Kleinmarkthalle, too. I reminded them of our plans to drink a glass of wine upstairs on a Saturday, and they agreed that it would be a great idea, so off we went. After looking around on the ground floor and introducing them to my favorite Frikadellenbude (unfortunately, the Frikadellen were a bit dry this time) we headed upstairs and ordered three glasses of red wine and went out to the balcony to enjoy the wine and the lively atmosphere. After a second round we were planning to go our separate ways when Frau Bloggerboy called and asked me if I wanted to go see the film Sin nombre. And so, I took our friends, who also like films, and the three sorts of asparagus to the movies.

Sin nombre is quite a good film. Written and directed by Cary Fukunaga, an American born of a Japanese father and Swedish mother, Sin nombre is Fukunaga’s first full-length film, and it is hard to believe that Fukunaga is only 32 years old given the polished film. Fukunaga allegedly was inspired to make the film after reading about an incident in which numerous illegal aliens died in a container trying to cross the border. I think many Americans only think of the border between the US and Mexico as the focus of the immigration controversy. Fukunaga shows us an underground railroad that stretches down through Mexico to the rest of Latin and South America. He gives us a compelling portrait of what life in the bottom echelons of Latin American society – gangland – might be like, providing one explanation for the pressure cooker that pushes people north to seek a better life. The music by Brazilian pianist and composer Marcelo Zarvos is hypnotizing and sad, adding to the film's melancholy. There are landscape shots of great beauty. What arises as the film unfolds is an image of a sea of quiet discontent, its tide rising to wash untold numbers of hispanics northward. No time is spent blaming the gringos for the problems, and no time is spent showing the inequities in the systems south of the border that lead people to risk their lives to make it to America and others to seek the shelter of a brutal gang system. In the simplest terms Fukunaga shows people of dignity struggling to get away and others trying to profit from their vulnerability. The alternative for the two gang members who are the film’s protagonists is between victimizing the travelers (submitting to the gang’s order) and fleeing for one’s life (betraying the gang). One character chooses to flee, the other to remain, and the latter swears vengeance against the former to redeem himself in his fellow gangmembers' eyes. The film is quite violent, but the violence is quick and predictable and not overly sensuous – masterful and effective in keeping us attentive. We see a child brutally initiated into the gang. We see a young man fall in love with a woman outside the gang, which sets him on a path of confrontation with the gang.

The great meeting and mixing of cultures -- I intentionally do not use the word clash -- that is going on in the Western Hemisphere is fascinating. The film reminds me most of Cormac McCarthy’s great Border Trilogy and the more recent No Country for Old Men. If you are interested in this theme, I urge you to see this film. Thinking about the film this morning I was reminded of one of the closing scenes in Cities of the Plain, when Eduardo, the Mexican says to John Grady Cole, the American: “Your kind cannot bear that the world be ordinary. That it contain nothing save what stands before one. But the Mexican world is a world of adornment only and underneath it is very plain indeed. While your world … totters upon an unspoken labyrinth of questions. And we will devour you , my friend. You and all your pale empire. (p. 253)” McCarthy gives voice to the deepest fear that fuels the immigration debate in the US. Fukunaga shows us the very plain world underneath the debate and the basic dignity of the people in that world who want something better.

After the film, I invited my friends to join us for asparagus, as I had bought too much anyway and was enjoying the company. They agreed, heading home to drop off their shopping bags and freshen up. I had intended to make hollandaise sauce to go with the asparagus, but my improvised double boiler (a large cooking pot of water with a Pyrex bowl on top) proved defective when the Pyrex bowl slipped into the pot, mixing the egg yolks with hot water. So, the melted butter that I had on hand for the sauce ended up being the only extra ingredient added to the asparagus and potatoes. Additionally, we had both cooked and air-cured ham and two bottles of lively chardonnay. The wild asparagus was larger than the blades of grass that I had in Alsace. I had purchased top-quality white asparagus at ca. EUR 9 per kilo and a similarly-priced bunch of green asparagus, larger than the wild sort, for the comparison. We agreed that the wild asparagus tasted the best. I really liked the flavor of the white asparagus, but the green was quite good, too. I can understand why some folks prefer the green variety. I may even stick to the wild variety in the future.

We sat around and chatted until after midnight, when our friends headed home on their bicycles. It only takes a few days like this one to make the year somehow seem memorable. Nothing, aside from the asparagus, was planned, and everything, except the hollandaise, turned out fantastic.

Eisheiligen / Ice Saints / Saints de Glace

2010-05-08T10:58:00.002+02:00

May is a strange weather month in Northern Europe. The past few Aprils in Frankfurt have had a high number of quite warm and sunny days, even if they start out with cool temperatures in the mornings. As May began, however, the temperatures have headed south, er, gone down. We have the heat running, and the wind and rain have had an extra cold bite whenever I leave the house. This has a long tradition in Europe, and it has a name. The "Eisheiligen" refers to a period in May when, according to popular farmers' lore, the weather is still too unstable to plant crops because of the danger of frost. There are five saints (Mamertus, Pancras, Servatius, Bonifatius, and Sophie) whose feast days fall from the 11th to the 15th of May. Under the Julian calendar, that period was associated with late frosts. If adjusted to the Gregorian calendar, the period would be later in May, but global warming probably would have pushed the date forward. Scientists have been unable to determine that there really is a higher chance of frost in May, but anytime the weather dips from warm to cool in May, Germans start talking about the Ice Saints. The last of the Ice Saints is Sophia of Rome, who is thought to have lived sometime in the 2nd or 3rd Century, and who was referred to by farmers invoking her protection as "Cold Sophie".

St. Sophia of Rome with her Three

Daughters: Faith, Hope and Love

Everything you Ever Wanted to Know about ... Asparagus

2010-04-30T12:34:00.008+02:00

Margaret, the author of one of my favorite blogs, Life in Laroque, had a question in the comments to my post below: "Now what I need to know is.... how do the Germans like their asparagus? White, huge, phallic (and in my opinion a bit soapy and tasteless) like the French, or thin, green and full of flavour like the English? Or somewhere in between?"

As you can see from the picture below that was taken at the Kleinmarkthalle, both types of asparagus are available here.

Asparagus at the Kleinmarkthalle

As you probably also can tell from the picture, the white asparagus is more prevalent here. In the US, I don't recall ever seeing white asparagus while growing up. Perhaps it now is available. The reason the asparagus is white is because it grows in mounds of dirt and, ideally, never sees the light of day until harvested. May is the best month for asparagus in Germany, and we only eat it seasonally. If your white asparagus has a purple tip, this means that it was allowed to grow above the top of the mound and was exposed to daylight. I admit that white asparagus was an acquired taste. After having had a few pleasant meals with white asparagus, a few years ago I decided to try out different qualities to see whether price made a difference. There is a whole body of information about the different quality levels and how best to buy and store asparagus. You can pay up to EUR 15 per kilo for the top quality white asparagus here. Here is some more info on "Spargel", which is the German word for asparagus and which, apparently, has made its way into the English language to refer to the white asparagus.

To make a long story short, I quickly worked my way up to the top of the heap. There was an asparagus stand outside Frankfurt's top kitchen store that basically was selling asparagus that had been harvested in the morning just south of Frankfurt in the Rheinland-Pfalz. Local sayings emphasize that the best asparagus is harvested in the morning and eaten with the afternoon meal. It was expensive but worth every cent. There are several important asparagus centers near Frankfurt, so obtaining really fresh asparagus is quite easy. I assume that "terroir" also plays an important role in the taste of the asparagus, so I can only speak of local products. Just as I've never had better tasting potatoes than in Germany, it may be that German white asparagus is better than its foreign cousins.

The key signs of freshness are: 1. the asparagus base should be moist, not dry; if you squeeze it, a bit of juice should come out (don't go there, Margaret.); and 2. when you rub the asparagus together, they should squeak lightly. If you manage to find top quality white asparagus, wrap them in a damp towel and keep them refrigerated until you are ready to prepare them, preferably the same day. Buy a decent peeler -- there are special peelers for the white asparagus -- and try to peel off the stringy skin completely without removing too much of the underlying flesh. The stringy skin has a bitter taste. Unlike green asparagus, you need to peel the entire white asparagus from just below the head to the base. Normally, you cut off the first one or two centimeters from the base as well. Cook the asparagus just long enough so that they are done but not too soft (the thicker German asparagus take between 8 and 10 minutes). Another trick to enhance the mildness and flavor is to first cook the skin peels in the water to create a base and to add a bit of salt and sugar to the water. I have even seen recipes that add butter to the water.

I only eat white asparagus served in one of two ways. A classic meal here is freshly cooked asparagus with unsalted butter and cooked potatoes (Salzkartoffeln). Just add a glass of good white wine (Riesling or Chardonnay grapes go quite well) and enjoy. For a heartier version, make fried potatoes with onion and diced ham (Bratkartoffeln mit Speck). [I have yet to begin my opus on German Potato Culture.] Alternatively, make a vinaigrette dressing and chill the asparagus for a fantastic appetizer. The asparagus that we had yesterday were a bit soft, but had a great, mild flavor.

I like green asparagus. Sometimes it has a metallic taste, but once in a while we eat it just for variety. In the restaurants here you almost never see green asparagus. If you order "Spargel", it will be white. The most interesting asparagus that I've eaten was during a short vacation in Alsace along the wine route south of Strasbourg. Friends of ours had been going to the village for years and were regulars at a restaurant that served upscale local fare. We're not talking about Michelin star quality, just authentic regional food with an attention to season. One May evening, wild asparagus was on the menu. I did not even know it existed and did not know what to expect. When my meal arrived, there was a generous portion of what looked like wild grass on my plate. The stems were only a few millimeters wide. The stems were tender, the flavor, delicate, and the homemade hollandaise sauce turned it into a memorable dish.

Wild Asparagus

I have now made a mental note to myself to prepare a trio of asparagus(es) if I can find all three in the coming days.

To paraphrase Sigmund Freud, it may be

a phallus symbol, but it's also an asparagus.

Let me know if you are able to duplicate my results, Margaret. We're trying to improve Franco-German-UK-US cooperation here. Which reminds me of an international joke. A group of leading intellectuals from France, Germany, the UK and USA were at a conference. Someone suggested a competition to last one year. Each group of nationalities would produce a work about the elephant, and they would compare results the next year. I'll finish the joke in the comments.

Showing Someone Around Frankfurt

2010-04-29T09:50:00.002+02:00

My one major gripe is that very few people whom we know take the time to visit Frankfurt. One of my "virtual clients", for whom I have worked for years without ever meeting, was flying out of Frankfurt yesterday, and I convinced her to spend a few hours in town with us. It was a beautiful day. Mrs. Bloggerboy and I took her to the Café Siesmayer for lunch, making a quick detour through the Palmengarten, and sat out on the restaurant's terrace.

Café Siesmayer at the edge of the Palmengarten

There was a special seasonal asparagus menu, and the asparagus was Grade A delicious. I even treated myself to a glass of Rheingauer Riesling that went perfectly with the asparagus. After that I took my client on a two-hour walk through the Westend, past beautiful late 19th century villas and the main synagogue to the Opernplatz, down the Fressgass and Goethe Strasse to the Zeil and then to the Kleinmarkthalle. After that we walked the few hundred meters past the Paulskirche to the Römer and out over the Main River on the pedestrian bridge for a great view of the city. We then walked back to the Dom and took the subway home. In two hours I was able to give a visitor a pretty quick introduction to a few of the highpoints of the city on foot. I hope that was enough to whet her appetite for a future visit. Frankfurt is not really a beautiful city, even though it has some great green areas. There are just too many plain buildings put up after the war, and some parts of the town can be pretty congested. But if you let me show the place through my eyes on foot or bike, you'll understand why I like it here. It is one of the most livable cities in the world, a great blend of big and small.

Beer + Bike = Bierbike

2010-04-27T09:32:00.004+02:00

A Bierbike in Berlin (Wiki Commons)

A couple of days ago when I was on my way into town I stopped at a light next to a Bierbike that had been rented by a group of partiers. It reminded me that I meant to post about the increasing frequency of sightings. In Frankfurt, you only see the Bierbikes parked or in areas where bicycles are permitted. I doubt that they are allowed on the streets. Add to that the fact that bike riders also have strict blood alcohol limits, then you know that the "driver" is either hired or a designated driver, presumably hired as part of the package. I put "driver" in quotes, because if you look closely at the picture, you see that some of the drinkers also have pedals. One hopes that someone sober has the ability to disengage the gears. The Bierbike Kodex discusses other problems associated with the Bierbike, e.g., what to do when you have to go to the bathroom and what happens if you show up for the Bierbike drunk. Imagine the liability issues in the US! I like the concept but doubt that I will ever hire one myself. Then again, if I become a more avid soccer fan, this could happen to me. It is, after all, a World Cup year. I've seen Eintracht Frankfurt fans getting warmed up on Bierbikes before a game. There is an alcohol ban in the stadium, so some folks like to stock up before they enter the stadium.

Back in the Saddle

2010-04-24T16:35:00.000+02:00

I rode to the bike store to get a new saddle for Bloggerboy Junior's bike. Riding a bike with no saddle is a strange experience. That was my first ride of the season. Someone stole the saddle off the bike while it was in the cellar this winter. I’m almost 100% sure that it was NOT one of the neighbors. I have a theory or two, but it is useless to speculate. The up side of having a quick release saddle pole is that it is easy to adjust, but boy they are easy to steal, too.

Anyhow, the weather has been fantastic, so on Friday afternoon I rode my bike over to Bornheim to pick up a few videos from our favorite store and to drink a coffee at one of my favorite cafes. Man, I need the exercise. My BMI is over 25 right now -- not by much, but I have to get rid of five kilos to look respectable again.

Bornheim is an interesting mix of young, slightly-alternative types and old Frankfurt. Many decades ago it was a village that housed numerous apple wine pubs and a flourishing prostitution industry – the “happy village”. The older part of Bornheim still has numerous quaint apple wine pubs, but prostitution, at least the kind tolerated by the City of Frankfurt, is now limited to the area around the main train station. There are reasonably-priced apartments and a lively street life in Bornheim. The Berger Strasse, Bornheim’s main north-south artery is the single best street for cafe sitting and for independent shops. It is a narrow street with speed bumps and a 30 km/hr. speed limit. The upper Berger Strasse also has a street market twice a week that is one of the best in Frankfurt. It only takes me about 15 minutes on my bike to get to the lower Berger Strasse using the Wallanlagen, a thin park that runs around the perimeter of the center city and that used to be part of the medieval fortifications against invaders.

So, on a quiet, sunny Friday afternoon I was sitting in one of my favorite cafes in Bornheim far from the international bustle of downtown, feeling anonymous in the middle of Germany. After a while, I noticed that the people at the table next to me and the table behind me were speaking non-native English. Next to me were two Scandinavian women who had been speaking their native language until a German fellow joined them, and they all spoke English. I did not look at the people behind me, but I guess that a German was speaking English with a foreign guest. Americans may take this kind of incident for granted, but I still marvel at just how widespread English is as a lingua franca, even off the beaten path, and I consider myself privileged to have absorbed the language with mother’s milk. I eavesdropped on the three students chatting in their pleasantly accented English. One of the women made a comment that a fellow not present at the table was extremely nice. The German fellow immediately offered (with a slightly teasing tone) to tell the fellow that she felt that way, and the Scandinavian woman declined, stating that she never fell for nice guys. Her friend reminded her that her most recent boyfriend actually was pretty nice. She paused and then agreed. They then mentioned another guy, and the first woman said with relish, “he’s a real devil.” The German fellow claimed that he was only pretending to be nice, and that they had yet to see him with his mask off. The women giggled. And so it goes on the merry-go-round.

This has the making of an intense film weekend again. More later.

Got to Get You Into my Life

2010-04-22T14:51:00.007+02:00

The Shuffle

Back in 2008, we took a big trip out West. I used my credit card so frequently that I received a free Ipod Shuffle from my card company. Shortly after that they lowered my credit limit. That's gratitude for you. I finally got around to using it -- the Shuffle -- these past weeks. Music used to play a big part in my life. I don't know if it is the thin walls in our multifamily building, my constant tinnitus, or just a life phase, but I've not listened to much music these past years. Sure, we go to a couple of concerts each year -- usually classic or jazz -- but I'm really out of touch except through the kids. Anyway, I spent the better part of an afternoon converting most of my CDs to play on my Shuffle. I've got tons of music now, mostly blues, jazz and rock. I play the random selection setting until I find an album that I'm in the mood for, and then I often shift to sequence, and go back to the beginning of the album for all the songs. I'm sure I date myself by thinking of great songs by their position on a particular vinyl side. Here Comes the Sun is part of an incredibly flowing album side (Abbey Road side 2) that needs to be listened to in one sitting. I'm sure that it was designed that way. The same goes for side 2 of The Cars eponymous album. I love the way the songs flow together and how the album ends with a saxophone solo fading out on All Mixed Up. I sufferered through the Days of Disco, and The Cars were one of the first US groups to signal the new wave of music that I liked to hop up and down to. Add in Patty Smith, The Clash, Elvis Costello, Joe Jackson, and it was morning in America.

Sooner or later I have to invest in the right equipment to digitalize the music on my vinyl collection.

Oops, I did it again, or, a Rare Silence

2010-04-18T12:33:00.003+02:00

As with so many other aspects of my life, I have phases of intense activity and then phases of relative stasis. For some reason, I just was not in a blogging phase this past month. I'm busy with work, but also enjoying a phase of social and family activity.

Today is an amazingly quiet Sunday morning. Air traffic has been blocked for two or three days now in Frankfurt because of the volcano in Iceland. There are no signs of volcanic ash and a clear blue sky with no airplane sounds. I like having the airport nearby, but you don't really notice the air traffic until it is no longer there. Nice.

I wonder what the net CO2 effect is when we subtract the

lack of airplane flights from the volcanic eruption?
Here is one thought.
Here's another.