A Culinary Walk in the Country: But Not All Walks Are Equal!

Last Sunday, I joined friends on a culinary walk near a small town in the German countryside.   Here’s the setup:  six kilometers, up and down hills, with a station every kilometer or so, serving delightfully tasteful specialties, and local wines.   Drink fab wine and walk for a stretch, with a series of nosh palaces along the way?  Hell yes, thought I.  Where’s the downside?

It’s a sunny day, with temps in the mid-50s.  We drive about an hour to get there.

In Germany, parking is always an afterthought.  Germans build sleek, fast automobiles their automotive engineers rightfully point to with pride.  But, parking?  You vish parking?  Hier?  Phere a couple of Tho-sand people komm zu essen und trinken? Have you lost your Nudeln?

Well, yes, ra-ther.  Drive around.  Finally guide the car up a hill where wild sheep get nosebleeds.  Park .  Slalom down to the center of the village.

Now for wine and food.  I rub my hands together in anticipation.

We pay our tribute, grab our empty wine glasses and step forward, where the line of hopeful eaters weaves and bulges and keeps us away from the food.  The day grows slowly more chilly, as I begin to notice while the line creeps forward at the pace of a pensive sloth.  But, oh, well, the day is sunny even with the now piercing chill turning my fingers to something normally thrown in a whiskey tumbler with Scotch and soda.  Not to complain too much.  The crowd is friendly.  And, when we search for a place to sit and eat our wurst and pommes frites and steak-on-a-stick, people smile and accordion together to make room.  I sense this will remain a happy crowd unless the wine gives out.  Judging from the expansive vineyards, there’s no chance of that.

Steak on a Stick

 I’m on my second glass and afternoon is still only a whisper past morning.  I down the last fragrant drops.

Time to begin the hike.  Thankfully, the next stop is only a short distance, on level ground.  More sausages.  More wine.  Still sunny.  No sweat.

 Then the slope changes for the worse.  Radically. Uphill. Steeply.  My wine is beginning to slosh.  I soon regret my last cigarette from forty years ago.  The thighs are getting a little tight, but stalwart that I am…

 More uphill.  If it gets any steeper, I expect Sherpas to lead the way.  And, now the sun it seems has something else to do.  Disappears faster than a virgin at an orgy.  Also, the wind picks up.  Oh, well, I’ve reached another wine and food comfort station.  This time it’s planked salmon roasting around an open fire.  The seductive aroma wisps through the crowd.

 But, at this point, the unpleasant chill transforms itself into a vicious wind with icy intent.  The lines for salmon are longish, as in a thirty-minute wait longish.  But, the fire is mercifully open, so I find a spot and thaw my fingers.  Right before the sleet begins.

Then wind picks up to gale force.  Tents flap and babies cry as the multitudes huddle together.  My companions and I plot an escape from this madness that the Germans call spring.

Then the sun comes out.  Should we go or stay?  While we dither, the sun’s fire dims again and the wind runs rampant, with accompanying sleet.  Decision made.  Downhill.  Fast.

Some brave souls stagger on.  I silently wish them luck and wonder at their stoic determination not to die a frozen death.

We make it back to the car and terminate the day’s outing a few hours sooner than expected.  No planked salmon either.

However, there is some recompense to this dreadful day of man versus weather.  Through sleet-blinded eyes, I manage to notice the scenery is gorgeous.  Get your mind out of the gutter.  Nobody’s going topless on a day like this!  I’m talking about the grassy, emerald hills, the graceful lines of winding trees, and white bushy blooms that signal a faint hope of spring.

 The day is far from wasted.  In short order I’ve grown to once more appreciate sunshine’s golden blessing, and to reacquaint myself with delicious wine and roasted sausage.

But the real star of the show today is the spectacularly beautiful German countryside. 

No more wine?  Don’t be foolish.  A well-stocked wine cellar awaits.  Also a roaring fire.

Culinary hikes are shelved for another day, and next time a German tells me spring is here, I’ll know he’s either a wild eyed optimist, or the same guy who told me parking was no problem.