Farmers Market in Homburg

Fall is in the air and that means it’s time for farmers’ markets.  One of the best is, fortunately for me, at a nearby German town, Homburg.

But let’s get this straight!  Homburg (Home-berk) is not Hamburg (a major city in the far north).  A lot of people mispronounce the vibrant little city’s name, unable to get past the more famous location, so they end up with Hum-berg or Hem-berg, or Ham-berg, even without a six pack inside them.

Homburg is small, not tiny, and vibrant.  I’ve written often about the restaurants there and especially the fests.  Italian Fest. Turkish Fest.  Ceramic Fest. Wine Fest.  Beer Fest. Huge monthly flea market. And let’s not forget the Christmas market!

Today, Germany celebrates the reunification of East and West.  No doubt Homburg will have a celebration.  The city fathers and mothers know how to draw the crowds and keep the city bustlingly relevant.  Small and medium sized cities in the U.S. should take a lesson.  Downtowns around the country have dried up and in my opinion it’s not only the malls or the online retailors who made it happen.  To their credit, some smaller American cities have paid attention.  I honor them.  Make the downtowns grow again!!   Oh, if only I were king for a day.  Of course there could be some minor problems with that. Sobriety could work in there somewhere.

But back to Homburg’s Farmers’ Market (Bauernmarkt – Bough-earn-mark-t). The streets teemed with shoppers of all sorts.  Cheeses.  Wines. Beers. Sausages and smoked meats, both domesticated and wild. Hand knitted woolens. Vegetables of every description. Breads.  Hand made brushes for every purpose. Food carts. Outdoor cafes sprawl onto every walking street. I’m sure I’ve left something out. 

Stalls wound through the walking streets and all through the old market area.  As I stress in everything I write about German fests and markets, the crowds were jolly, friendly, courteous, and exceptionally well behaved.  Hey, there weren’t just Germans here, but folks from all across Europe, including those that settled here and visitors and vendors.

Ok, you get the picture.  Now it’s time to save a few thousand words and give you some photos so you can visually wander through the Bauernmarkt yourself!  See what you missed?  Still think that lawn care, laundry, and getting your car washed was so important?

Crêpes weren't the only French contributions!  Both sweet and savory!

Yes, the Italians provided luscious slivers of  Parma Ham

Fear not, autumn is festival time.  Check out the fests near you and leave the laundry for another day!

Another hint:  Next time there’s a fest in Homburg, go! And for goodness sakes learn how to pronounce it!

Friday Night at Issimo

Friday Night at Issimo

Ya got a favorite go-to spot for Friday nights?  Sure you do.  Me too. Friday night spots are special, without a lot of planning.  Your fav spot dances into your mind; you invite a couple of friends and order some wine and noshes….hey, what else do you need?  One of my favorite spots is a small Italian deli in Homburg, Issimo.  You know that Italians are famous for their appreciation for family.  And when you walk through the door at Issimo, you’re immediately part of the family.

What’s special about it?  Glad you asked because I can tell you what makes any Friday night place special, yours and mine.  Friendly staff is number one.  It’s a place where the manager and wait staff call you by name and always throw smiles at you as you walk through the door.  Of course, you also greet them by name!

At Issimo, we know Franco and Vecenzo, Afërdita, Sylvia, and Leonardo.  How come?  They’re friendly enough to invite conversation. Always smiling.  The men shake my hand, the women give me hugs.  It’s only about two minutes before I have a glass of wine in my hand.  I don’t get that kind of welcoming service at home.

Second things that are mandatory for a fav are super food and wine.  At Issimo you can count on every wine, every cheese, every olive and slice of bread being wonderfully delicious.  Yes, it’s all from Italy and the staff knows what part of Italy it came from because they picked everything out and didn’t just order it from a supplier.  For the wine, you tell any of them your taste and it’s as if they know your taste buds better than you do.  It’s that way with the food as well.  Parma ham is not just a style, it came from Parma and not just any ham from Parma.  Issimo’s Parma ham is a tenderly cured and thinly shaved piece of ham that crosses the palate as a gift from the heavens.

Third requirement is atmosphere.  In my case, an Italian deli should feel like Italy.  Issimo is in Germany, but there’s nothing phony about it. No plastic rounds of cheese or plastic sausages hanging over the counter.  Step through the door and inhale deeply.  Yep, this is the place.

But, it’s like that with any fav place, right?  A hamburger joint should feel comfortable and welcoming and have the smoky smell of burgers and fries.  In a BBQ joint, your nose should lead you there and your clothes better smell like BBQ when you leave.

At Issimo, with the whole package of staff and food and atmosphere, this is Friday night as it should be. Great wine and cheese and ham and even better conversation.  Politics?  No way.  This is the time to chat about books you’ve enjoyed, and places you’ve been, and places you want to go, and the fine points of where this and that wine came from.

At Issimo it’s more than a Friday night, it’s a special Friday night.  Just like yours, right? Saluti! 

Saturday in Da Burg: Homburg!

Saturday in Da Burg

Haven’t been to Germany?  Having a tough time wondering what it’s like to live here?  I know you’re curious.  You’ve heard rumors from your beastly, so-called friends. The winter weather is awful, right? Germans aren’t friendly.  If it’s not snowing, it’s raining, right? So if you have to live here, what in the world is there to do as you ponder your Saturday?

Oh, nothing really.  Go to a very cool town for the big flea market, or perhaps a wine fest, or a Christmas market, or find a delicious German restaurant with atmosphere to spare.  Of course, you must begin with coffee and a fresh roll at the German bakery that’s down the street.  Imperative and essential for a bright outlook, even if it’s raining, which it was.  No matter. Drizzle fizzle.  Pull up the hood and march on.   We know every bakery clerk and they waved to us and called us by name as we walked through the automatic, sliding glass doors and got hit with a burst of the intoxicating aroma of fresh bread.  We answered them by name and sat down because we’re creatures of habit and the clerks know what we want.  The bakery was warm and comfortable, but after a coffee and roll warm up, we were ready to make the short drive to Homburg.

Amazing how many vendors showed up at the flea market, from Germany and France.  Homburg is a lively town and sports the biggest and best flea market (Floh Markt) in southwest Germany.  Happens the first Saturday of every month, from 0800 to 1600.  Yeah, yeah, subtract 12 hours from the latter.  Get used to it if you take trains in Europe.

But, we weren’t taking a train.  Just driving a couple of towns away and singing in the rain.  Very light drizzle that stopped periodically. Wasn’t that bad.  Vendors know better than weathermen when it’s going to be bad.

Unlike so many flea markets in the U.S., the Homburg flea market is stuffed with antiques and semi-antiques, most of which are at used furniture prices.  Interesting stuff. No dross. Can you bargain?  Foolish man, of course you can.  But, these vendors know the going price of everything and their wares are already cheap.  Check out the photos.  One thing the guys will want to know: Yes there is German World War II paraphernalia, but the crooked cross is always covered up.  It’s the law.  There were no coffee stands and no luscious aromas of grilling meats and sausages Saturday.  The antique vendors know the weather better than the food vendors.

Afterwards, we shopped for flowers and you can see what we got for less than ten bucks.  Brightens up the house, refreshes the spirit and all those other touchy-feely things.  Freshly cut flowers are my fav substitute sunshine, especially in Germany in the wintertime.  We did see the sun once…think it was last week.

Next stop, a wonderfully traditional German beer house and restaurant.  Big steins of beer if you want one, but I opt for a glass of Grauer Burgunder from the Nahe River area.  In Italy it’s called Pinot Grigio and in France Pinot Gris.  English?  Gray Pinot. Light. Dry, Fruity nose.  

But, I ordered a meat plate, a Grill Teller.  What’s with that? White wine with meat? Yes, well two of the meats were pork and turkey.  The Germans eat a lot of turkey, called Puten.  Don't’ eat pork or beef?  No problem in Germany. Don’t drink wine or beer? How ‘bout water or fruit juice?

Germans are known for huge portions and the Grill Teller was no exception.  Should have shared and fought over the scraps.

We lingered over the wine and looked out the window at folks bundled up for the rainy day.  Rain and even snow doesn’t stop these hearty folk.  I’ve seen people in their eighties with their walkers, trudging through six inches of snow.

So, what’s there to do on just another rainy day in Germany?  Gosh, let me think…and while I’m thinking, let’s have another glass of wine.