I didn't eat anything like this in Germany last week, but I am striving for a week of very simple food and this is pretty much all I felt like eating last night, and, strangely enough, again tonight.
german braised cabbage.
2 tbsp lubricant of your choice, I used goat butter last night, tonight I probably use butter butter, but olive oil would also be juuuust dandy
1 onion, sliced
2 tbsp raw sugar
1 garlic clove, pummeled
1/2 large green cabbage, coarsely chopped
1 tsp caraway seeds
1 cup water or vegetable broth
optionally, 1 tbsp vinegar, I didn't feel like this last night
salt, or possibly smoked salt and pepper to taste
Melt lubricant. Add onions and brown slightly.
Add sugar and let caramelize.
Add cabbage, garlic, caraway seeds, and water or broth. Bring to boil and simmer, covered, about 1/2 hour or until cabbage is tender, stirring occasionally and adding extra water if needed.
Season with more salt and pepper if necessary and add vinegar if desired.
Yeah I ripped this off from here, haven't felt like duckifying the whole thing yet.
There are no informative pictures of Thursday night. We were kind of pressed for time. OK here's an example.
Yeah, what is that. Here's what things looked like if I turned my head to the right:
Mmm, yeahh slightly more revealing. But mostly we just forgot pictures because we'd been traveling at top speed to get here, this charming little biergarten/terrace called Das Sonntag. Why was time a factor? Wellllll the day before, Nelson had made an 8:00pm dinner reservation. The next day, I left Amsterdam on a 3:01pm train to Groningen, she picked me up at the train station in the Black Fox and we somehow arrived at Das Sonntag in Worpswede at 7:58pm.
OK, OK, we also stopped to check in at the campground and set up the tent, and then got lost for the first of many many many times this weekend. But still. It felt like a triumph. Anyway, we arrived at Sonntag not only right on time but also stupidly hungry, which we kind of seemed to do everywhere this weekend, so we had a couple of flammkuchen that were ultimately unphotographable in the available light, but they certainly did the job with/to/for our available stomach space.
Sometimes it sounds like I don't speak English.
And then we just "people watched" or whatever you call that, while nursing a couple of Beck's (the local beer, brewed in Bremen, but yeah in the same way Heineken is Amsterdam's local beer), and struggling with terrifically spotty Wifi.
Then the next morning you could really kind of see what the campgrounds looked like:
Oh but right, I have to talk about coming home after curfew and Germans and rules. And forgetting your passport. And not sleeping due to power snoring from neighboring tents. Soon, rabbit, soon.
Above: A real bratwurst from a charcoal grill at a flea market in rural Lower Saxony, with mustard and curry ketchup.
In order to strike back against the anti-climax of Summer Holiday 2016 (me getting sick that is) and to achieve something like an anti-anti-climax, Nelson and I fled to Northern Germany for a couple of days. Specifically here, which I was going to say is nothing like what this New York Times profile suggests, but in fact, well....everything they say about the aging population and the alien-ness of modern art and what will happen if a new generation doesn't take over.....that's all very true it seems.
But we had fun! And swam in an icy cold river. And France remains the most overrated country in Europe. Germany was full of exceptionally friendly people (ok, ok, "our 48 hours in this one German town of 9,000 people were full of etc, except for two people that I can't forget to tell you about"), delicious vegetarian food, giant grilled sausages, and as a not-unexpected bonus, big long randomly capitalized German words for everything instead of puh puh puh poopoo le voo French ones (I need a metatag for something along the lies of "fake racism", and possibly an additional one to signify that I know this is not exactly racism at all but more like grand cultural generalizations cleverly disguised as fake racism....it's all verrrrrrry complicated, I assure you, that's why I need a catchy little metatag).
Plus: we camped! And one of the nights, I slept! I slept like a really long German word in another really long German word.
We decided to tempt fate by eating at Trasteo again before we left town. Thankfully it went well: that's a courgette and Parmesan salad with truffle powder and almonds; artichokes with romesco again; and then (not pictured) migas, which I at first thought was their first misstep but I was eating it wrong, it ended up being gross-looking but great. Still not sure exactly what was going on other than powdered ham on top, an egg inside a puddle of liquid bread maybe? And perfect potatoes underneath. And then the lemon ice cream violet meringue business again.
Then we went in the fucking ocean with our middle fingers raised in defiance towards the red flag, thankfully the ocean's response didn't involve killing us. But immediately afterwards Nelson fell ill and we had to sneak into a hotel pool to lay low for a bit. Then we made it to Estepona and I almost immediately fell ill, which is where and how I remain. Hope this isn't cause of the middle finger business because that didn't even really happen.
This is an often-NSFW, mostly gluten-free kitchen notebook that also occasionally threatens to turn into something else and fails, thus remaining its same old cryptic and superficial self. These posts begin to fail to explain (start at the bottom).