Stroud Is All Over the Place: European Farmers’ Market: Rammelsbach

European Farmers’ Market: Rammelsbach (Kusel)

I like farmers’ markets anyway and this was a huge one. Something like 1200 vendors and over 30,000 eaters, drinkers, music lovers and shoppers came to sample fare from all over the Euro-world. As in every other fest I’ve visited in Germany, this was orderly, friendly, and wonderful. No fights. No drunks. No police presence. Just happy people, including an abundance of families who came to enjoy a beautifully sunny day, with temps in the mid 80s.

We got there about 2 p.m. and the party was in full swing. Matter of fact, as we learned, the Champagne stall had already sold out. So, we settled for a very excellent Sicilian white wine and some Finnish planked salmon and coleslaw. The planked salmon, pink and juicy, was roasted close by a wood fire.

Near by, a Hungarian stringed trio brought the sweet sounds of their homeland, while not too far away, in huge tent, a German oompah band serenaded hundreds of beer swillers.

All that music competing for your ear? No. Not at all. The market was that large, sprawling though the old city streets and diverging down side streets before trailing into the nearby countryside. Even an amateur band, featuring pop and jazz had a wide space to itself, blasting away without fear of contradictory notes.

Not interested in salmon? The inviting aroma of grilled sausages filled the air, drifting along on delicate clouds of smoke. Fried potatoes? Oh yes! Whiffs of hot grease.

Fancy some Trdeinik from The Czech Republic? I call it cylinder bread, with flavored dough wrapped around iron molds and flame cooked over a wood fire.

Who can resist the lightly delicious scent of French crepes, being prepared especially for you by women in traditional garb and men in berets. C’est entendu! Fresh fruit perhaps to flavor your delightfully thin crepe or a soupçon of homemade jam? Need to top that off with some rich French whipped cream, n’est pas? You haven’t tasted cream or butter until you’ve slathered the French versions on your crepe.

But, the best part of any gathering is the people. Always. In this case, her name is Beatrice, a pretty, American woman with a very interesting background. She’s also a delightful conversationalist. Her father emigrated to the U.S. from Germany after WW II and in time joined the American Army, serving for 28 years before retiring. Beatrice’s mother is French. So does Beatrice speak English, French, and German? Mais, oui! Na sicher! Of course! Does she have an accent in English? No way! Raised in California, but has lived in Germany for a number of years. Has a German boyfriend.

What else did this expat have to say? “I love America for its extreme convenience and now that my parents are in their declining years, and I spend a lot of time taking them to hospital appointments, I appreciate the cleanliness of American hospitals. Fortunately, because he is retired U.S. military, I can take my parents to American military hospitals here in Germany.”

My experience is different from those of Beatrice, but my visits to German clinics and hospitals have been limited and far less extensive than hers. Also, she lives in a much more rural area.

Let’s get back to the good stuff, like the Sicilian white wine. In the Sicilian stall, the offerings included not only wine by the bottle and glass, but also jars of pesto and sweet pistachio paste. Tasted both and liked what I tasted. But, it was a hot day folks! Both bottles of wine were very cold and delicious. I felt like a cast member from Oliver! “Please, sir, may I have some more?”

Craftsmen galore offered one-of-a-kind curved wood furniture, and cutting boards. Other booths had homemade jam, or fresh bread from wood fired ovens, or colorful oil paintings. Yes, a true feast for the eyes and a bane for the pocketbook. My friends found wrought iron fixtures for their garden. Another friend found soap and old-fashioned wooden handled brushes and packets of dried herbs.

Now it’s time to get back on track, grab that bottle of Sicilian wine I rescued and review some photos of Rammelsbach’s huge Farmers’ Market. Care to join me? I’ll share, but bring your own straw.