A Journey into the Past: East Germany in 1983

As we drove up to the East German border in 1983 we were both somewhat nervous--but excited, too.  This was the first time in 31 years that Hans would be back in his Heimat (homeland) since he had left as a boy of 14 with his aunt.  Hans had been born in Magdeburg but had grown up beside the Werbellinsee, a beautiful lake in the Schorfheide forest area in the State of Brandenburg (about 100 kilometers from the Oder River, which is now the German/Polish border).

(The picture above of the old border crossing between West and East Germany was being dismantled at the time I took this picture in 1990 just days after re-unification.  In 1983 I wouldn't have dared to take such a picture as guards and police were everywhere!)

The picture below is of Hans with his Aunt Gerda in 1952, a few months before escaping from the DDR (East Germany).

His Aunt Gerda--his mother's sister--had brought him up after both his parents had died:  his mother in 1943; his father, in 1944.  In an attempt to escape the Communist country, Hans and his aunt had been caught and jailed for about two weeks.  His aunt--who had become his mother--was forced to do the cleaning in the jail and in the Russian barracks.  Hans was allowed out during the day but had to return for the night.  On release, they had been threatened with "Siberia" if they were caught again attempting to escape.  A short time later they did try again, flying by chartered plane at night into West Berlin (with the help of an influential friend).  It was 1952 and this time they made it safely.

A few months later both would emigrate to Canada by ship, entering Halifax at Pier 21 in December of that same year (1952).  That was followed by the long train trip west to Westlock, Alberta, to where his aunt's son Heiko had already emigrated to work on a farm.  (In those days, to enter Canada, you had to have a sponsor, or you had to agree to work on a farm or another work place for two years where hard work was required.  This Heiko did and then sponsored his mother and Hans.)  Three years later, in 1955, Hans joined the Royal Canadian Army.  He retired officially in 1983, which meant that he could at last, as a civilian, return to the Heimat he had never forgotten.

I was privileged to accompany Hans on that journey into the East.  On that day in 1983 I became more nervous as we started going through "no-man's land," leaving West Germany behind.  We had to go through three check points, giving up our passports at the first one and not having them returned until the final check point.  All I could think was, "What have we gotten ourselves into?"  I feared we might never see our passports again and thus would never get back to our side of the infamous Wall.  We were entering the communist Deutsche Demokratische Republik (the DDR) or, as we called it in the West, the German Democratic Republic (GDR).
The picture above is of that same border crossing.

The moment we arrived on the other side, it was as if we had entered a different world.  The grayness is what first was so noticeable:  the meadows were green and the sky was blue, but the towns and houses were gray and rundown, as everything had been neglected for so long.  We found out later how little money people had and how difficult it was, even with money, to buy such things as paint and building materials.  The entire infra-structure was in total decay.  The picture below right is of a former mansion in ruins; no money nor materials available to keep it up.

We had had no choice in where to stay while in East Germany.  The Communist regime chose the Palast Hotel for us in East Berlin, a luxurious hotel where only people from the West were allowed.  There, we could buy a West German newspaper and shop in the grocery store, for which we were later thankful.  (It was off limits to the local population.)  Each day we paid Deutsch Mark 60 (West German Marks) for a visa to drive out to the Werbellinsee, which was situated just 50 kilometers northeast of Berlin, to Hans' former home beside the lake and to visit the surrounding area.

(One West Mark was worth four East Mark.  As well, we had to pay in West Marks for our room, any dining or shopping in the hotel.  At that time we paid the equivalent of $110 a night.  We also, of course, had had to apply and pay for visas to enter East Germany itself.)

 We drove the 1000 kilometers to East Germany in an Italian Innocenti mini and were amazed at the reaction it received.  Our car was identified by the Canadian Forces Europe (CFE) licence plate as we were part of the civilian work force with the Canadian military in Europe. We had, as well, the Canadian flag emblem on the rear of the car.  Passengers in other cars, mostly Trabants--better known as Trabis--often waved out their windows as we or they passed, yelling "CANADA!" in their excitement.

The picture at left above is of our mini on highway 109, which comes out of Berlin heading northwards.  It was the only highway we saw that was in perfect shape and with painted white lines.  The reason for this was that Erich Honecker (Head of State in East Germany) had a country home farther along this highway.  We were told that it was kept up so that he would think all the roads were like this one!

At a parking area one day a young man shyly approached us and said, "My wife's dream is to have a car like yours someday."  Our mini was not at all luxurious, which was the reason we had taken it up there, thinking it would not attract much attention.  We were told by several others later that one had to wait up to fifteen years for a car with the money put up front first!  Few could afford that.  Secondhand cars were more expensive than new ones, if such a vehicle could be found.

By West German and western European standards, the traffic was almost non existent.  That at least helped to make up for the terrible road conditions:  highways and country roads were atrocious with potholes or uneven cobblestones that shook and rattled our car--and our bones!  The Autobahns, which had been built during Hitler's era, were mostly of pre-World War II vintage with little done since then to repair them.

Once beyond the Berlin city limits--where our visas were checked leaving and returning each day (we had to be back within the city by midnight)--the countryside was peaceful and lovely.  Small villages lay just beyond the Autobahn and seemed to be part of yesteryear--which, in fact, they were.

This is a typical quiet village with cobblestone road and sidewalk.

The most exciting part of the drive was arriving at the Werbellinsee, a lake 33 kilometers long .  Hans' house was at the far northeastern end of it.  He remembered every landmark, every curve in the road, including--it seemed to me--every tree!

The oak tree at the right is over 600 years old, some say as old as 800 years.  This is in the town of Eichhorst, close to the Werbellinsee.

The house, situated across the road from the lake, included the land on the lake side as well as acreage behind the house and a large piece of the forest--about four hectare total (ten acres).  The house had been bought by Hans' grandfather shortly after World War I.  (He had been a shipbuilding engineer for the Imperial Navy during the Great War.)  We found out later that the title to the house was still held by Hans' aunt.  In many cases, houses had been taken over by the Communist state, but fortunately theirs was not one of them.  That would prove to be hugely important after re-unification.  Hans' house is shown below.

What a surprise it was to find that Hans' best friend, Werner--from school days--lived in the house, as did two other families, including his cousin Heiko's best friend, Wolfgang, and Wolfgang's in-laws!  When we stopped across from the house that first day, Wolfgang was outside in the garden.  He stared at us and at our car and then yelled, "Hans-Jörg!"  He had recognized Hans after all those many years.  We found out that the two friends had done what they could to keep the house in a reasonable state of repair during those Communist years, one of the reasons the house appeared to be in better shape than many others we had seen. When Hans lived there it was a one-family villa, with a gardener and a maid.  At the end of WWII and during the Communist era after the war, he and his aunt and his grandmother--who died before they escaped to the West--looked after it without any aid.

This picture shows the rear of the house and part of the garden area.  The lake can be seen beyond the house through the trees.

Surrounding the Werbellinsee--"a jewel amongst lakes," wrote the famous writer, Theodor Fontane--is the Schorfheide, the largest integral forest in Germany today.  Much of it is now protected by UNESCO, with 25,000 hectare (750,000 acres) of jack pines, beech, oak and birch trees.

The Schorfheide has been the home of many famous and infamous individuals, including Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm IV, Kaiser Wilhelm II, Reichsmarschall (Air Marshal) Hermann Göring and Erich Honecker, the last East German Head of State.  The Schorfheide, a beautiful forest area with many lakes, is just an hour or less from Berlin, making it a favourite haunt of many, including weekenders from the city.

The picture on the right shows the back garden of the house and the forest beyond it.

Each afternoon one of the families in Hans' old house invited us for coffee and cake and told us about their lives.  One afternoon Hans and I went for a walk in the forest with Wolfgang.  When talking about politics, his voice lowered to almost a whisper:  "The Stasi (secret police) are everywhere," he told us, "and you cannot trust anyone except for your family and close friends."  Though we were the only ones there, it was almost as if he thought the trees were listening!

The region was close enough to Berlin to receive West German television signals; although it was against the law to watch western TV, many did.  That meant that the people could see what life in the West was like compared to theirs.  One young couple we met told us, "Our dream is to visit Canada.  We feel marooned within our own country.  We can travel to the Eastern Bloc countries but those countries do not really want us or our East Marks."  One of the reasons they were so poorly off in the DDR was that most of the best products from East Germany went to those other East Bloc countries, including the Soviet Union, making much unavailable within the their own country.

A simple grocery store at left.
It was almost impossible for the ordinary people to buy those consumer goods we take for granted, such as citrus fruit, walnuts, decent coffee, chocolate or cocoa, for example.  Other products were so expensive the common person could not afford to buy them:  colour or even black-and-white TVs (which most did have), stereos and cars.  Ordinary goods such as winter boots and coats cost half a month's salary.  We visited the families many times  and on each subsequent visit we took supplies with us for Hans' friends, ones that we bought at the hotel in Berlin (always including coffee!).  After that 1983 trip, each year at Christmas we sent each family a parcel of food products until the Wall fell in 1989.

We found few Gasthäuser, but those we did find served very good home-cooking style meals.  They always had three items on the menu from which to choose, each in a different price category.  Usually we managed to get the last one offered, invariably the most expensive one.  The prices were extremely reasonable (for us), perhaps about East Mark 5, equivalent at the time to about Canadian 50 cents.  Some Gasthäuser were open only to Communist Party members and we were told in no uncertain terms, when we tried to enter, that they were out of bounds to us.

Two typical country roads, quiet and peaceful, but bumpy!






                              
                                          Below, a typical small village




We drove down many country roads and into many small villages.  Grocery stores carried mostly the basics with fresh produce from the area.  The only flowers we saw were the ones in gardens; we never saw a florist shop or nursery.  Police were everywhere.  Many roads in the vicinity of military areas were off limits to us and to most locals as well.

Once away from the grayness of the border and city, the countryside was beautiful and tranquil.  Although houses had no paint and were often in bad shape, they added to the feeling of an earlier era.  With few cars around and fewer stores, it was quiet and peaceful, though we wondered how we would manage living in such a closed society and country.  I always felt the lack of freedom while we were in the DDR and truly realized the difference in our own lives when we were finally back on West German soil.

The moped was a typical way for getting from place to place.


Below, the small, quaint village of Werbellin, just off the Autobahn in the Schorfheide and close to the lake.  Time stood still here.

Below, the Werbellinsee at the southwest end, just outside Altenhof.  A typical past time for many, including us:  Watching the swans.

We saw a lot on that trip and found it to be emotional and thought-provoking as well as rewarding.  It had been a memorable journey.  We had hoped to go back soon again but bureaucracy, increased costs and a busy life had deterred us.  But three days after re-unification, in October1990, we drove back again, the first of many such visits after the Wall had fallen.



A Note:  All the photos were snapshots taken in 1983 except for the two border crossing pictures, taken in 1990.  I then took pictures of all of them with my digital camera.  I kept a journal of our visits to the Werbellinsee, thus the reason for the conversations still remembered and our impressions at that time.  I plan to write about our 1990 trip and a little from other trips there, showing the changing times.

Chicken in Many Guises

The phrase "a chicken in every pot" was originally believed to have been said by Herbert Hoover in 1928.  It was later declared to have been the line of a 1928 campaign advertisement of the Republican Party--but not from Hoover.  James Rogers, the author of Dictionary of Cliches, says that it was reported that King Henry IV of France (1589-1610) stated:  "I want there to be no peasant in my realm so poor that he will not have a chicken in his pot every Sunday."  Well, whoever it was that first said that (likely the King), knew a good thing.

I love chicken!  I love it roasted, fried, barbecued or baked with a sauce.  Just don't simmer one in broth and serve it to me that way, unless, of course, it has a piquant sauce to accompany it or the broth will be the basis for soup, with some of the chicken in it.  As a child I remember kneeling on a chair beside the kitchen table while my mother prepared a chicken for roasting.  First, though, she had to clean it as that was not done beforehand by the farmer or seller.  She would place large sheets of newspaper on the table and then, with her hands, haul out the innards.  I can't remember now if she had to remove all the feathers herself, but I think she did.  She would have plucked them and singed any remaining down.  I found the whole thing fascinating to watch although I did keep my distance. 

Chicken is still one of the most loved of all dishes.  With hundreds of ways to cook a chicken, it makes it one of the most versatile of all meats or poultry.  We only buy bio (organic) chickens now as we do not condone the way many large companies around the world raise poultry in such terrible conditions:  in huge barns with barely enough room for them to turn around and never seeing the light of day.  My sister Paula in Bridgetown, N.S., where we spend our summers, buys hers from a farmer.  They remind me of the old-fashioned free-running chickens of the past:  meaty and delicious.  Of course, when buying one ready-cooked, it is more difficult to determine its background.  Those who sell them here in our area of Germany do carry German-born and raised chickens.  

 

 

The pictures above shows the "chicken wagon" that is outside the Edeka supermarket in Ettenheim every Wednesday.  The seller is inside his truck turning his grilling chickens.  Below, the seller obliged me by posing.  (I also bought two pieces of chicken for supper later.)

France, a country known for its food and wine is also known for its Bresse Chickens.  That is the only poultry in the world that has an A.O.C. designation (Guaranteed Origin Appellation), the same qualification that defines French wines.  This law on A.O.C., signed by the French President Coty on 1 August 1957, defines this poultry precisely--the zone, the breed and the rearing conditions--which gives right to the title of "Bresse Chickens."

The Bresse region is unique.  It is included in three counties and under the control of three administrative regions:  Rhone-Alpes, Bourgogne (Burgundy) and Franche-Compte.  The area is between the Jura mountains on the Swiss border and the Saone River.  What is interesting is that all chickens produced in Bresse are not necessarily designated as Bresse Chickens.  Bresse (appellation) Poultry must bear certain identification marks.  Each bird must have a colour code and an identity code.  They must have completely white feathers, fine blue feet, completely smooth, and a bright red crest.  No poultry may be sold under the Bresse appellation if it does not bear these identification marks.

There are certain other requirements as well:  they must have grassy pastures with 10 square meters (108 square feet) per chicken available; one flock of a maximum of 500 chickens and between two batches, a fallow period known as a "health break"; a building measuring 50 square meters maximum; a pasture measuring 5,000 square meters minimum. 

The picture at right depicts a Bresse Chicken on the cover of one of my German cookbooks; this one on Specialties of France.

Bresse Chickens are known throughout France and most of them remain right there; in fact, only about five per cent are exported.  No Bresse (appellation) Chickens can be exported live; all must be slaughtered birds and sold as a whole bird, never as parts.  Those sold within France must also have the head on it when sold.

The picture on the left is of a Bresse Chicken ready for sale.

The year our friends Jean and Bev spent three months in that vicinity, we bought a fresh chicken from their landlord, Charles, who was raising those renowned Bresse Chickens.  It was not cheap.  (Nor is a fine wine!)  When we got home, I decided to roast it my way; well, actually the French way.  I followed a recipe I have used for years from Time-Life's The Cooking of Provincial France.  That chicken was superb!  The recipe can be used for any good roasting chicken.

Roast Chicken the French Way - Serves 3 to 4

3-1/2 to 4 lb chicken (1-3/4 to 2 kilo)

Preheat the oven to 450F/230C.  Mix together 2 tablespoons soft butter, 1/2 teaspoon lemon juice and some salt and pepper and spread this inside the dried cavity of the chicken.  After trussing the chicken, mix together 3 tablespoons butter and 1 tablespoon oil; brush half over the outside of the chicken.  Place the chicken on its side on a rack in a shallow roasting pan just large enough to hold it comfortably.  Brown the chicken first on that side, then after 10 minutes turn it to the other side and brush it again with the butter/oil mixture; roast it for 10 more minutes.  Reduce oven temperature to 350F/180C.

In the meantime, cut up the following:  1 onion, sliced; 1 carrot cut in 1/2-inch pieces; 1 celery stalk cut in 1/2-inch pieces.  Turn the chicken onto its back, brush it with butter and oil and salt it lightly.  Spread cut up vegetables in the bottom of the pan.  Roast the chicken, basting it every 10 or 15 minutes with butter and oil while it lasts and then baste it with pan juices.  After 1 hour check the chicken for doneness by lifting it with a wooden spoon inserted in the tail opening.  When the juices that run out are yellow (or the leg moves easily), it is done.  Transfer the bird to a carving board and let it rest for 5 minutes before serving.

Make the Sauce:  Stir about 1 cup of chicken stock into the roast pan; bring to a boil over high heat, stirring and scraping in any browned bits.  Boil for 2 to 3 minutes until the sauce has the desired intensity of flavour.  Strain through a sieve, pressing the vegetables well, before discarding them.  Skim off as much surface fat as possible and taste for seasoning.  You can thicken the sauce if wished but it isn't necessary.  

My chicken one evening at the Linde in Wallburg

I go out for chicken nearly every week and usually alone.  Occasionally Hans comes along with me.  He isn't as fond of chicken as I am but he does enjoy it now and again.  Some of my women friends, both here and in Canada, say they would never go out to eat in a restaurant or Gasthaus alone.  They don't feel comfortable doing that.  I enjoy it!  (So does my sister Anne in Toronto, who also goes out now and again on her own.)  I don't just go for the chicken, I also go for the atmosphere, a nice glass of wine and the time to just think, reminisce or make plans.  I am welcomed and feel at home.  I think to myself:  "Why not?"

My friend, Waltraud, who is Wirtin at the Linde in Wallburg, with my Weissherbst wine ready to be served.  

I decided on the name of my blog over chicken and wine at the Gasthaus Linde more than a year ago.  Within days I had posted my first one; a week later I wrote about that evening, which I called "Chicken Night at the Gasthaus."  When I went back after my return from Nova Scotia last October, Waltraud welcomed me with a hug and a big smile.  Needless to say, I was happy to be back, as I had so looked forward to that chicken once again.

Just before New Year's Hans and I went there together.  I ordered their Hänchen im Korb (chicken in a basket).  It is identical to their usual chicken, just served in a different way.  Both the chicken and the French fries are placed in the basket, with a plate beside it in which to put them if wished.  What everyone loves is the crisp and savoury skin--so good that I eat all of the skin first!--and the moist flesh, perfectly cooked.  I usually have with it the green salad (one of the best in the area), though on that occasion we both had Feldsalat, as that was still in season and delicious.

Chicken in a basket and Feldsalat

I have some favourite chicken dishes that I have made over the years.  My kids loved them.  I loved them and still do.  The following recipe was one of my children's favourites, which I made for my granddaughter during her visit to Nova Scotia a summer ago.  Teresa loved it as well.  It is from the early 1960s and was published, I think, in The Canadian Magazine, now long out of print.

Here is the recipe as I make it.  It can be prepared ahead early in the day and refrigerated.  Or:  prepare it all except for adding the sauce; do that just before baking.

Chicken Hawaiian - 4 to 5 servings

In those long ago days, I bought a whole chicken and cut it up myself as directed in the recipe.  Now I buy the parts I wish to use.  A mixture of breasts, legs and thighs is perfect.  I have read, though, that cutting up your own chicken will end up with a better-tasting cooked chicken as one doesn't lose all the juices that way.  You cut it up and cook or ready it immediately, so the juices stay in the pan.

3 lb (1.5 kg) chicken

Preheat oven to 325F to 350F (160C to 180C)

Sauce:  20-oz can sliced pineapple (500mL; about 2-1/2 cups); 1/4 cup soy sauce; 2 tablespoons brown sugar; freshly minced garlic if wished (not in original recipe)

Mix together in a paper or plastic bag:  2/3 cup flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon celery salt and 1/2 teaspoon garlic salt and a little nutmeg.  Add the chicken pieces to the bag and shake it well so that the chicken is coated on all sides but not too thickly coated.

Heat 2 tablespoons butter and 1 tablespoon oil in a large frying pan.  Brown the coated chicken well in the hot fat, only as many at a time as will fit the pan easily.  Remove from the frying pan when nicely browned and place the pieces in a large casserole dish or oven baking dish.

Strain the syrup from the pineapple into a bowl and add to it the soy sauce and brown sugar and the garlic, if using.  Mix well and pour over the chicken in the casserole dish.  Cover the dish and bake the chicken until it is tender, 1 to 1-1/2 hours.  (I usually cook mine for the longer period as the sauce will then be thicker and the chicken really tender.)  Baste several times throughout the baking period, another reason for cooking for the longer period.

Meanwhile, saute the pineapple slices in the fat left in the frying pan until they are golden on both sides.  (I do this as soon as I put the chicken in the oven and then they are ready when needed.)  Fifteen minutes before the chicken is done, place the sauteed pineapple slices on top of the chicken pieces and continue baking, uncovered, basting with the pan juices.  Serve each piece of chicken with a pineapple slice on top.  Note:  I have occasionally added some peach nectar or even orange juice when I didn't have a large enough can of pineapple.

Below is my Hawaiian chicken supper recently.  (I had salad on the side.)  I had mistakenly opened a large can of pineapple chunks instead of slices, so I sauteed them and scattered them over the chicken the last 15 minutes of cooking as usual.  (The slices are easier to handle and also look more appealing on the plate.)

I have always loved baked potatoes with this dish.  They can be put in the oven with the chicken an hour before it is ready, which means no splashing on the stove top and no mess.  I like mine crisp, therefore I don't wrap them in tin foil.  It's important, then, to cut into them as soon as they come out of the oven to let the steam out, which then keeps them crisp.  Top with some butter, salt and pepper and there you have a delicious potato.  Cole slaw goes well with this as does corn or peas.

Today, chicken may not be served to the family sitting together around the table on a Sunday as I experienced as a child.  I hope, though, that families at least still do sit together for a nice meal.  I did continue that tradition of special Sunday dinners with my children and Hans and I do that still--just not always with chicken and sometimes not at our own table but at a Gasthaus!  Luckily, too, we don't have to clean those birds ourselves as my mother did.   We can buy them ready to cook and cut up for us, boneless and skinless, if we so wish.  We can also buy them ready cooked, hot off the grill and delicious.  It's still enjoyable, though, to cook our own in all the many ways there are to cook a chicken.

Supper last evening:  chicken from the chicken wagon; freshly made French fries; sauteed green pepper, onions, garlic and mushrooms.  Hans, by the way, said the sauteed vegetables didn't really go with French fries, but I thought the whole meal was delicious.  Both of us enjoyed it.  We had a bottle of 2008 Grauburgunder (Pinot Gris), Kabinett Trocken--a gift from a 94-year-old friend--with our simple meal. 

Guten Appetit!  Prosit!

Sylvester: Celebrating the New Year

The New Year has arrived as seen above, live from Berlin on TV on the 31st.  People celebrated everywhere in Germany and around the world as they awaited midnight.  The pealing of the church bells and fireworks going off announced the arrival of 2011 in Germany.  Of course, radio and TV stations counted down to the stroke of 12 with party-goers cheering and hugging and wishing one and all "Ein gutes Neues Jahr."  The picture below was also on the Berlin TV station, RBB.

That afternoon, we went out for a while to one of our local Gasthäuser, sitting at the Stammtisch with some of the regular Gäste (customers) who had stopped in, as we had, to wish the Wirt and Wirtin, Erich and Sylvia, a "guten Rutsch," a saying that wishes someone a "good slide" into the new year.

On the left, Sylvia and Erich.  

On the right, Hans and I with two acquaintances, regular Gäste at the Gasthaus.




We stayed at home New Year's Eve to welcome in the new year.  Those years that we don't go out to celebrate, we watch some music programs during the evening; we watch, as well, the sketch "Dinner for One."  This is its 40th year on TV and all the non-advertising stations show it--most of them twice--on the 31st.  People from all over Germany tune in.  It is in English and without sub-titles.  Forty years ago NDR TV station (in northern Germany) showed it for the first time.  They had made a contract with an English cast of two, both well-known British stars at that time:  May Warden and Freddie Frinton.  It has become a tradition on Sylvester Abend (New Year's Eve).  It isn't known in North America I don't believe, nor even in England, but it is certainly known in the German-speaking countries of Europe:  Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Luxembourg, Lichtenstein and, I think as well, Holland.  The film is in black and white. 

The quality isn't good here (the film itself is clear) but you can get an idea of the setting, which is in an English-style dining room in a mansion, with a long table, five place settings on it.  Four are imaginary guests, but real to Miss Sophie, who is celebrating her 90th birthday.  James, the butler, serves the several (imaginary) courses and always with a different wine, liqueur or Champagne.  Those are quite real!  He makes sure all glasses are filled and all are are empty after each course.  He, of course, drinks them to make sure of that!  It is hilarious as he becomes more and more unsteady on his feet.

The picture at right is the scene at the end where James helps Miss Sophie up to bed and, according to the words repeated before each course, "The same as last year, Miss Sophie?" and her response, "The same as every year, James."  With a wink from James, up the stairs they go together.

On New Year's Day we decided to have a meal that was easy without too much work afterward, but one we both have enjoyed over the years.  We had thought about a meat fondue but decided on Heisse Stein (hot stone), which is similar, except that the meat and vegetables are cooked at the table on a hot stone and not in hot fat or broth.  Heisse Stein was popular here in the 1980s and occasionally was offered at a Gasthaus.  That is not the case today and one is hard-pressed to find one to buy at a store now.  The stone, which is heated first in a hot oven, rests on a rack on the table, under which are two burners that keep the stone hot while one cooks the meat and the vegetables.  It is a great way to entertain as it is laid back, fun and relaxing.  What I really like is that there are few dishes to wash up afterward and little mess--and that after a tasty and delicious meal.

The uncooked meat is placed on a dish beside the one from which we'll eat the cooked meat and vegetables, with separate fondue forks used for adding the meat to the hot stone.

This year Hans bought pork fillet, steak fillet, turkey fillet and small Nurnberger sausages (we both love these; small Bratwurst with a spicier taste).  All except the sausages were cut into bite-size pieces.  He also bought some Schinken (bacon type) as it helps keep some fat on the stone and it is also very tasty.  As we can buy excellent fondue/heisse Stein sauces, Hans picked up four jars of them, plus some horseradish.  I made a sauce that I found in an English magazine years ago--a garlic/curry mayonnaise--one that we both like very much.  For vegetables, we had red peppers, mushrooms and red onions (the latter cut into quarters).  We have sliced French baguette to go with the meal.












My recipe for garlic and curry mayonnaise is fast and easy to prepare.  It is best made early in the day so that the ingredients meld.  I made half the recipe and we still had some left over.  Here is the recipe:

Garlic and Curry Mayonnaise - Makes one cup

2 cloves  of garlic
A little salt
1 cup good mayonnaise
2 tablespoons (approx.) chopped chives
2 to 3 teaspoons curry powder

Peel and crush garlic to a smooth paste with a little salt (in a mortar with pestle if possible, as I do).  Mix the garlic into the mayonnaise; add the chopped chives and curry powder.  Stir well and refrigerate until ready to use.  This will keep in the fridge as a bottle of mayonnaise will, but I would use it as soon as possible.  Any leftover sauce can be used on the side with pork, chicken or Bratwurst sausages.  A picture of it is shown in the glass dish above.

With our meal we had a bottle of Champagne, a Clicquot Brut from Reims, France.

The House of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin was founded in 1772 in that city.  I really enjoyed this quite expensive Champagne, though Hans was not quite as enamoured as I.  German Sekt (a Champagne equivalent) can have more flavour, as often only one particular grape--though not always just one--such as Riesling or Scheurebe, both of which can be strong in flavour, is used.  The Clicquot is a blend of three grapes:  Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and Pinot Meunier.

To finish dinner, we had mousse au chocolat for dessert.  This is one of my favourite desserts to serve as it feels light (though not in calories!) and can be made a day ahead.

I have made many different recipes for chocolate mousse over the years but have a couple of favourites, both of which can be frozen, including this one.  The one this year was from the Winnipeg Free Press in the 1970s; however, I have made changes to it with some additions and deletions.  I halve the recipe for the two of us; it normally yields six servings.

Chocolate Mouse - 6 servings

4 eggs, separated
1/2 cup fine white sugar
2 tablespoons Grand Marnier (instead of brandy)
6 squares (1 oz each) unsweetened chocolate (instead of semi-sweet)
3 tablespoons water (instead of double-strength coffee)
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1 cup or more whipping cream (instead of 1/2 cup)
Cassis (my addition) as part of topping

Beat the yolks until they are thick and lemon coloured.  Stir in 1/4 cup sugar and the Grand Marnier.  Place over hot water.  Stirring constantly, heat until thickened and smooth.  Place in a pan of ice water or in very cold water in the sink; beat 4 to 5 minutes longer or until as thick as mayonnaise.

Melt the chocolate and the water over hot water.  Stir until smooth.  Add the butter in pieces gradually until the mixture is smooth and creamy.  Blend this into the egg yolk mixture with a spatula.

*Beat egg whites until soft peaks form; gradually add the remaining 1/4 cup sugar, beating until it forms stiff meringue or peaks.  Fold this into the chocolate and egg mixture.  At this point, I fold in some whipped cream as well, a good 1/2 cup to 3/4 cup, whipped.  Spoon into a crystal or cut glass bowl or into individual punch cups and chill until set.

Note:  *You can leave out the egg whites and just use whipped cream (as much as you wish).  I don't always use the egg white and sugar mixture, although I did this time; sometimes I use just the whipped cream, with some sugar added to it, especially if using non-sweetened chocolate instead of semi-sweet.


To serve the mousse, top it with a dollop of whipped cream and some Cassis (add a little sugar and vanilla to the cream when whipping it).  The Cassis, to us, really is the finishing touch as it adds contrast and sets it off.  Creme de Cassis comes from Dijon, France.  (One of my recipes calls for Creme de Cacao, but we prefer the Cassis.)

Bon Appetit!  Guten Appetit!

Happy New Year!  Ein gutes Neues Jahr!  Une Bonne Annee!

Christmas: Traditions and Gemütlichkeit

For the first time in about seven years we have snow for Christmas.  It began to snow on Christmas Eve morning and now, Christmas Day, it is still snowing.  It is calm and beautiful.  We shall be at home to enjoy the beauty through our windows.

We have celebrated 4th Advent with the Christmas celebration now upon us.  The Christmas season means special food prepared at home for the family.  Though our family is in Canada and far away, we shall enjoy all our traditional food as always.  Christmas Eve (Heilig Abend) means Coquilles St. Jacques as well as wieners and potato salad for us.  They certainly don't go together but we have compromised and do have both.  First, the scallops; then after a short break, the wieners and potato salad.

The wieners are not the type one gets in North America, although they are similar.  The German variety is longer, breaks off crisply when you bite into it and has a different spicing.  Generally, you just hold one in your hand and dip the end into a medium or sharp mustard and take a bite.  If eating at a kiosk, you will be served a Brötchen with it (a roll or bun), which is crisp on the outside, soft on the inside. The wiener is not placed inside the Brötchen; both are eaten separately.

Hans demonstrates how one dips the wiener into the mustard (shown on the side of the plate).  No Brötchen today for lunch.

It was the tradition in Hans' family, as in the majority of families in the area in which he grew up--the Mark Brandenburg just east of Berlin--for wieners and potato salad to be served on Heilig Abend.  That tradition was continued for his children who grew up in Canada and western Germany.  As they always celebrated Christmas Eve the German way, with the 24th being the most anticipated of all the Weihnachtstagen (Christmas days), it meant an easy and fast meal--the potato salad made ahead and the wieners taking only minutes to heat and cook--before the children saw their decorated tree for the first time, their toys around it and before the opening of their gifts.

Hans' potato salad, made a few hours ahead, using broth and not mayonnaise

The mustard is shown on the plate to the right of the potato salad.  This was a medium German mustard.

I grew up the Canadian way with Christmas Day, the 25th, being the most anticipated day for children, as that is when we saw our tree with all the gifts and toys surrounding it.  And, of course, we also had our huge goose or turkey dinner on that day.  The 24th, however, was an important and exciting day for us as well, one that always included a special Christmas Eve supper, though not always the same food each year.  We didn't have Coquilles St Jacques; that was a tradition I started with my children.  I had certainly grown up eating scallops as the Maritime provinces are well known for them as well as other mollusks and crustaceans.

The raw scallops at left have the coral attached.  Hans likes the coral very much, though I prefer mine without it.  These were bought in France, where the coral is considered a delicacy.

Digby, Nova Scotia, where scallops are renowned, is only 40 minutes west of our summer place.  During our time there we can buy fresh scallops on the town dock, at a fish store along the Bay of Fundy, from the back of a fish truck that sets up in the towns (or delivers personally) and, of course, at the supermarkets.  Here in Germany they are more difficult to come by, though they can be found.  

We always go over to Alsace, France before Christmas to buy ours.  (It is just a half hour's drive, which includes a five-minute ferry ride across the Rhine River.)  While there, we might buy cheese and red wine as well.

The picture on the right shows part of the fish counter at the medium-size supermarket we shop at in Rhinau, in the Alsace.

The first time I had Coquilles St. Jacques was in Marville, France in about 1962 at a special Air Force dinner.  The scallop shells were edged with pureed potatoes, slightly golden in colour, with the most delicious mixture of scallops and mushrooms in the centre, covered by a delectable sauce.  I still remember that dish.  A few years later, in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, our next door neighbour, Sylvia May, gave me a recipe for it, one she made each year for Christmas.  I made it and liked it; later, however, I found the recipe that I have been making ever since.  There are faster recipes for this dish, but this is the best I've had.  It is from Time-Life and The Cooking of Provincial France, a recipe book I have used many times over the years for other things as well, including roast chicken and Boeuf Bourguignon (both superb).

I have made a few changes in my scallop recipe since then.  Sometimes the ingredient amounts are different, but it is the same basic recipe.  I still use butter and cream and eggs. 

The picture below left shows the scallops and mushrooms before the remaining sauce was placed over them.  The picture on the right shows the sauce covering them.

The just baked Coquille below.

Here is the recipe as I make it:

Coquilles Saint-Jacques a la Parisienne (Scallops in a white wine sauce)  

To serve 6  (I halve the recipe for the two of us and make smaller portions so we then have four Coquilles, two for Christmas and two for the freezer.)

1-1/2 cups fresh or canned chicken stock

1-1/2 cups dry white wine (Riesling is preferable)

3 to 4 green onions (scallions) or shallots, sliced

3 celely tops with leaves, cut into 2-inch pieces

3 to 4 parsley sprigs

1 bay leaf

10 whole peppercorns

2 pounds large scallops, cut into 1/2 inch slices; halve them or leave whole if small

3/4 pound (12 oz/375 grams) fresh mushrooms, sliced

Sauce Parisienne

4 tablespoons butter (unsalted)

5 tablespoons flour

3/4 cup milk

2 egg yolks

1/4 cup heavy cream (or more if needed)

2 to 3 drops lemon juice (or to taste)

1 teaspoon salt (or to taste)

Grinding of white pepper

1/4 cup or more grated Swiss cheese (I use more and a combination of Emmental and Mozzarella)

Butter six scallop shells or oven-proof baking dishes and set them on a baking sheet.  The shells can be bought at many stores in the dishware department.  They add an authentic touch to this dish.  Preheat the oven to 375F/190C.

Method:  In a heavy large saucepan, bring the stock, wine, green onions, celery tops, parsley, bay leaf and peppercorns to a boil over high heat.  Reduce the heat and simmer uncovered for about 20 minutes.  Strain the bouillon through a sieve into a large enamel or stainless steel skillet or frying pan.  Add the scallops and mushrooms; cover and simmer for 5 minutes.  Do not simmer any longer as you want the scallops to remain soft and not overcooked.  Transfer the scallops and mushrooms to a large bowl.  Quickly reduce the remaining bouillon to 1 cup.

Sauce:  In a large stainless steel saucepan, melt the butter over moderate heat.  After the foam subsides, lift the pan from the heat and stir in the flour.  Place back on low heat and cook, stirring constantly, for a minute or so.  Do not let this brown.  Remove the pan from the heat and slowly add the reduced bouillon and the milk, stirring constantly.  Return to high heat and cook, stirring the sauce with a whisk.  You don't want it to burn on the bottom.  When it thickens and comes to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer slowly for one minute.

Mix the egg yolks and 1/4 cup heavy cream together in a small bowl.  (I do this beforehand.)  Stir into it 2 tablespoons of the hot sauce.  Add 2 more tablespoons of sauce, then whisk the now-heated egg yolk and cream mixture back into the remaining sauce in the pan.  Bring the sauce to a boil over moderate heat, stirring constantly; boil for about 30 seconds.  Remove the pan from the heat and season with the lemon juice, salt and pepper.  The sauce should coat a spoon thickly; if too thick, thin it with cream.

Discard any juice that may be under the scallops and mushrooms in the bowl.  Then pour in about 2/3 of the Sauce Parisienne over the scallop mixture and stir together carefully.  Spoon the mixture into the buttered shells or baking dishes.  Cover the mixture with the remaining sauce and sprinkle liberally with cheese.  Note:  Hans likes capers in his as he says it adds flavor and a little pizzazz; they should be added to the shells along with the scallops and mushrooms before covering the mixture with the sauce and cheese.  (I prefer mine the classic way, without the capers.)

Bake the Coquilles in the top third of the oven for 10 to 15 minutes or until the sauce is bubbling and the cheese melting.  Then slide them under a hot broiler until the cheese is golden brown if wished.  (Serve these as a first course.)  Place the scallop shells on a luncheon plate with a lemon slice on the side and a sprig of parsley for decoration.  If so desired, you can edge the scallop dishes with pureed potato.  Both the cheese and the potato should be golden when cooked.  I don't add the potatoes but it does make a nice presentation and is more filling, especially if having no other dish to follow it.

 

For wine, we drank a Riesling Auslese halbtrocken (not dry and not sweet; literally, half dry) from Partenheim, a gift from Hans' son and family.  It was perfect with the Coquilles.  On the side, we had buttered toast points.

Lighted candles on our tree on Christmas Eve

A picture from a TV show on Christmas Eve, in a church in Bavaria.

For us, Christmas Day means goose and all the trimmings, which we shall have this evening.  

Merry Christmas!  Frohe Weihnachten!