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.

Willie Nelson: It’s a Long Story, by Willie Nelson and David Ritz

Willie Nelson: It’s a Long Story, by Willie Nelson and David Ritz

Who doesn’t know or hasn’t heard of Willie Nelson?  Just another guitar strumming, twangy-voiced country singer, right?  I shared you skepticism.  Never would have thought to pick up the book except that a close friend, who is known for his excellent taste in literature and country music, told me, “Ya gotta read this book!”  He followed up with, “I wish it had been longer and he would have shared even more stories.”

Started out as a courtesy read.  Then I couldn’t put it down. Found myself falling asleep at night with the book propped on my chest.

Yeah, but Willie Nelson?  You bet. The man has lived several lifetimes, been in and out of debt, is married to his fourth wife, with a whole string of children following in his footsteps, and who went from ‘can’t get a job’ to being an American institution.

We often think of performers simply waltzing into the spotlight of TV or suddenly and without warning strumming a few songs on the radio.  Overnight sensations.  With Willie Nelson, that’s not how the story goes.

He comes from a traditional or semi-traditional Texas childhood in the no-where town of Abbott, raised by his grandparents and taught to praise the Lord.  And how he got where he is today is a jagged, broken-glass trail of being true to himself and never giving up.

What does never giving up mean to you?  Retaking a driver’s test?  Maybe going out for the team again after being cut last year?  Willie puts a whole new spotlight on the phrase ‘don’t ever give up.’ For decades he struggled.  Often his wife and kids were a meal away from starvation, while he tried to sell his musical talents in honky-tonk bars and strip clubs across Texas and around the country.  Sometimes, when hope was but a fading memory, he found a pal who could hook him up as a disk jockey, or find him work doing odd jobs, or selling this and that door-to-door.  His then wife worked hard as a waitress while raising two kids nearly by herself. But, Willie’s music always stuck with him.  He wrote, he sang, he never gave up, even when the doors kept being slammed in his face, or smashing his foot.

He connected with people and as he did, he became enamored of different types of music, many of which he would go on to sing with such giants as Frank Sinatra and Ray Charles.  Country. Jazz. Blues. Pop.  The notes resounded within him.  Music was his Polaris and is to this day.

But, fame and success comes at a heavy price, so heavy that most of us are not willing to pay it.  Not willing to move around the country looking for work, or going through four marriages or becoming successful only to be hammered by the IRS.

Willie Nelson’s autobiography is a straight-forward adventure in living life your way, without compromise or loss of direction or spirit. Every page is a lesson in living, in sticking to your guns in true Texas style, and keeping hope and good humor alive in the midst of triumph and tragedy. The lessons are simple, but true.

Be confident, but not arrogant.

Appreciate those around you.

Take success and failure with the same gentle attitude.

Love your family.

Love your friends.

And most of all, be true to yourself.

A good book?  Hell, no, it’s far better than that. It’s a lesson in being strong and resilient, loving, kind, and faithful to what means the most to you.  I promise you, if you pick this book up, you won’t want to put it down.

Baked Fettuccine with Meatballs, French Style

Baked Fettuccine with Meatballs, French Style

You may realize by now, in the winter I enjoy hearty repasts, but I choose not to be a slave to my kitchen.  My routine is simple. Make ‘em.  Stick ‘em in the oven. Drink heavily until it’s time to eat. 

I already shared a Baked Ziti recipe with you, but for the New Year I’ve got another that’s just as tasty and works with the same simple routine. Chances are most of these ingredients are already in your garage kitchen.

https://stroudallover.blogspot.de/2017/12/baked-ziti-easy-lasagna-alternative.html

This time we’re going to take some pasta and make it speak French, n’est pas?  So grab your Fettuccine or your close friend’s Fettuccine and let’s pack those noodles in your favorite oven. Easy recipe.  Not many ingredients. None of them are exotic or toxic, and the whole mess comes with instructions from yours truly, Chef Guillaume de Stroudé.

Baked Fettuccine with Meatballs, French Style

Preheat oven to 350ºF

Butter a 9 X 13 inch baking dish

For the sauce: 

28 oz can whole tomatoes, un-drained

4 cloves garlic, chopped

3 Tablespoons olive oil

1 heaping tablespoon Herbes de Provence

salt and pepper as desired

Put all the ingredients in a blender or food processor until well blended, set aside.

For the meatballs:

1 Pound freshly ground beef or pork or a combo

1 Egg

1 Cup breadcrumbs (no breadcrumbs?  Throw some stale bread or crackers in a plastic bag and use a rolling pin to do some pounding)

½ Cup diced onions

A dash each of:

Salt, white pepper, chili powder, black pepper, Herbes de Provence

Mix all ingredients, then form the meat into any size balls you prefer and lightly brown in a skillet. Do not worry that they are not completely cooked as they will bake for 40-45 minutes.  Put your thumb and forefinger together and that’s about the size meatballs I used.

Prepare the noodles:

1 Pound package of dried Fettuccine (Boil in salted water about 9 minutes instead of the usual 12-13 minutes, then drain and put in a large bowl.)

Next:

5 Tablespoons butter, softened

2 Eggs, scrambled

1/3 Cup Parmesan Cheese

5 Cups shredded Gruyere Cheese, 1 ½ Cups reserved

Need this, but don’t mix it yet. 2 Cups small curd cottage cheese, divided in two.

Whip the the butter, eggs, and 3 1/2 Cups of Gruyere together.  Add to the bowl of noodles and mix well.

Putting it all together:

Put half the noodle mixture in the baking dish, spread one cup of cottage cheese, then about half the tomato sauce, sprinkle on half the remaining Gruyere cheese and put on half the meatballs.  Make a second layer in the same manner, with the meatballs on top. Sprinkle Parmesan on top.

Slide the baking dish in the preheated oven for 40-45 minutes or until bubbling and beginning to brown on top.

See how easy that was!  But, to make the process go even faster, you can make everything hours before you bake it.

So, why do I say this is French style?  Lots more butter than anyone else in the world uses, plus the use of Gruyere Cheese instead of Italian alternatives, as well as herbes de Provence.   And you're saying, "Yeah, but the noodles..." Oh, be quiet!  The French eat pasta, but they say: manger des pâtes.

Here’s wishing both my faithful readers a very Happy New Year! Or as we like to say in Oui! Oui! Land, Bonne Année!