Dit bedoel ik dus.

Notities

Ik was een tijdje in Berlijn, waar ik al een tijdje niet was geweest, om precies te zijn 7 maanden. Het was er koud, en warm, en ik heb veel mensen ontmoet, maar ook alleen in bed gelegen met een dvd (want ziek). De (toekomstige) elite van Spanje en Italie de stad laten zien, en met de Köpipunks het hof gedeeld.

Een korte, onbewerkte notitie uit deze stad.

"Ik zit in mijn hotelkamer op bed. TV aan, een uur de tijd voor mezelf.
Voor me staat een doosje. Het past precies goed in mijn hand en is paars met blauw. Het doosje omhult een plastic beker, waarvan de inhoud €3,95 kost.
Laagjes
Onderop 5 cm rabarbercompote.
Daarbovenop een groen laagje pistache.
5 Cm mascarpone volgen, bedekt met een donkere glimmende chocolade.
Een trotse framboos met drie blaadjes roze liggen er bovenop.
Kadewe failliet?"

Ik had geen camera bij de hand, daarom deze poging tot beschrijving. Ook vond ik de volgende beschrijving: "een fiets genaamd 'rotor' staat tegen de deuren geleund, grijs tegen grijze deuren. een knaloranje fietstas aan hem vastgeklikt, waaruit een fles steeks met blauwe dop - club mate, weet ik. de fles blaast zacht belletjes."

Ik zie vaak mooie dingen, die ik wil fotograferen, maar misschien moet ik me oefenen in het beschrijven van dingen. Dan kan ik kijken wat ik wil, en hoef geen apparaat uit mijn tas te halen en het opzichtig ergens op richten!

Nu weer terug in Italie. Vanuit de trein naar huis deze notitie.
"Ik zit bij de kapper. Daar ga ik alleen heen als het echt moet, bijvoorbeeld als ik een mini-matje in mijn nek voel kriebelen, of als mijn vriend me liefkozend 'mufflon' noemt.

Deze keer zit ik bij de kapper vergezeld van mijn schoonouders, die een knipbeurt ook nodig achtten. Buiten is het 33 graden, en de korte haartjes plakken in mijn nek. Kort wil ik het gezien de warmte, deze keer mijn excuus. Ik wil het altijd kort, omdat ik dan langer niet naar de kapper hoef.
Aan small talk hoef ik mij niet te wagen, omdat paradoxaal genoeg mijn Italiaans niet toereikend is - ook een fijn excuus. Dan maar in de spiegel staren.
De kapster is het ex-vriendinnetje van mijn vriend, zou ze daarom zo ruw doen? De tranen springen in mijn ogen als ze mijn oren als haren opzij probeert te kammen. Telkens weer landt die vermaledijde kam op plekken die enige tederheid niet zouden misprijzen.
Langzaamaan bevrijdt mijn hoofd zich van overtollige haren. Nu, weet ik, begint de echte lol voor de kapper en het lastige moment voor mij. Normaal gezien, thuis dus, was ik mijn haren en kam ze een beetje en klaar. De trots van de kapper bestaat uit föhnen, met ingewikkelde spullen de slag uit mijn haren halen, of juist een kunstmatige wildheid tevoorschijn toveren, en het volgooien met plakkerige stinkende troep. Hoe moet ik zo over straat? Ik voel me opgedoft, een treurige travestiet. Dit nog versterkt door de goedkeurende blik van mijn schoonmoeder, die mij eindelijk eens 'verzorgd' door het leven ziet gaan - met hele korte haren weliswaar, maar dat is allang weggelacht. 'Ach het staat haar toch zo leuk' indiceert een kapsel buiten de norm, want lange haren hoeven niet besproken te worden, tenzij uiteraard aan het hoofd van een man.
Gelukkig heb ik gisteren een zonnebril gekocht, waarmee ik me even een Italiaanse kan wanen: blauwe ogen bedekt, zorgvuldig gestyled haar. Thuis ga ik me snel douchen.

Therapy

I decided to spent the days in Rome (after I had sort of fled from my own house in the mountains due to the earthquake) as well as possible. Since so much had happened, some distraction and relaxation was welcome. The ultimate therapy: gelato. At the end of the afternoon in the warm spring weather with people around.
There must have been numerous blogs and articles written about this, but here I present my answer to the often-asked question: where to eat the best icecream or gelato in Rome?
I have tried many places and I've noticed that some have a reputation to be 'the best', which drags people like me to these places. That does not automatically mean they do make the best icecream, to me. Probably, there are many places hidden and unknown to many people.

Such is my favorite place which, in my opinion, makes the best chocolate gelato in Rome:
Luna di Roma, Via Gallia 168, San Giovanni.
Theirs is creamy, not too cold, good selection of classic flavors, sorbets, and then some special flavors (yesterday there was millefoglie and pane di stelle, for example), and also soya flavors. They are cheap (1,60 for a 'small' one with 3 flavors, which is not small at all!). There are tables and benches outside that make the place excellent for people watching.

Then I can report about the ones with a reputation.
San Crispino is often named as the best gelateria. I do like their product, and I am a sucker for 'special' flavors, which they like to make (ginger-cinnamon is one of my favorites!). But their gelato is too cold, I find, and not so creamy. The interior of their place is super clean and sterile, the personnel rather "cold" (and this is not inherent to people selling gelato, haha!) and you cannot take a seat anywhere around (I've been to the ones in San Giovanni and Pantheon). The latter seems to spoil their own principle: they do not make cones or put cream on top as this would spoil the taste, but I find it harder to enjoy something when I have to eat it standing or walking. And it is expensive: 2€ for a small cup, which holds only 2 flavors.

Gelarmony, Via Marcantonio Colonna 34, is a good one. I've been there always in a rush, so cannot report too much, but I like them. They have a huge selection of flavors, which is a plus for me. Amongst which my favorite flavor liquorice, which tastes a bit like toffee. For vegans this place is a must, they sell many vegan flavors and even have vegan cream!
Next door to Gelarmony they sell arancini, rice balls with delicious fillings from Sicily. So you can really make one stop to be totally full and satisfied with the best Italian street food there is!

And then another place which I really like, but which is not in Rome, and of which I don't even know the name! A place in Tagliacozzo, Abruzzo, sells very good chocolate and very good liquorice and many other flavors. It is close to the main square and the sign says something like 'gelateria artigianale'.

Earthquake update

(For those of you who missed it: I was in Rome the time the big
earthquake happened last Monday morning and
my house 40 km from the epicenter is fine. I didn't lose anybody close
to me, but I do know people who lost their house.)

I am writing from Rome. Bruno and me took the decision to not stay at
home still for yet another while,
as the area can still not be called 'safe' and there are new earthquakes
every day. On Thursday we received the
information that the core area would be moving to the south, closer to
where we live and that was enough to make us
decide to go home to take the cat and some more stuff and bring them to
Rome.

This week has been incredibly tiresome, worrysome, emotional and what
not. I had to try do 'divide' myself over fear for my
own life and house, sadness for the people who lost lives or houses, my
parents (planned) visit which could not go as planned,
and the feeling of wanting to help but not being able to.

It was the first time ever i got to experience an earthquake. What is
most horrible about it for me is not only to physically experience it,
to know what damage it can cause, to see the grief and broken houses but
also, on top of that, to not be able to know that it is
over. It can happen any time again, with more devastating results. Yet
in the mean time, the sun is shining, the birds are singing,
spring is in full bloom and it seems it's all good. Well, most
earthquakes happen at night, i now know; it is the influence of the moon
which
causes not only sea tides, but also earth tides! So when the moon is
out, there is a higher risk. So can you believe i wouldn't be able to sleep
a calm night's sleep in this knowledge?

Friday i even got to see the damaged area with my own eyes, when we went
to L'Aquila to bring sleeping bags to Bruno's friend
who lost his house and had been sleeping on the floor for days. L'Aquila
is in the middle of the mountains and it's cold there, at night -1 degree.
So we bought them good sleeping bags and got up early to bring them to
L'Aquila. Eliseo and his wife Rita then showed us their house and the
neighborhood around it. Incredible. Most houses were still standing but
all were damaged: the walls had big cracks or had fallen down. Well,
i am sure you saw the images on tv. It looks like a ghost town, but a
bit further down the road there is a lot going on, all kinds of
services, like fire
protection, cops, carabinieri, military, civil protection, etc etc take
care of many things.

This week we will return to our house, as we decided that our lives have
to somehow get back to 'normal' again. At least here in Rome we had
some time to think and talk and reflect. Of course we have been
informing ourselves about the situation and it seems that there are, and
have been, small earthquakes every day everywhere in Italy for a long
time, or actually always. They are unpredictable and happen often, but
they also are not always, or rather rarely, as damaging as the one
almost one week ago now. So we have to learn to live with this knowledge
and accept that it could, but also could not, happen again. I should
make peace with the village, the region, my house again, as nothing is
certain and many things are dangerous (I think the last days I spent in
Rome have been more dangerous than actually staying in Scurcola; traffic
here is
crazy, for example!). I want to go home and feel safe and not feel panic
every time hear a strange sound or every time I see the lamp on the
ceiling moving.  I want to appreciate the fact that this time, I have
not experienced physical or material damage. I want to acknowledge the
fact that up until now, my life has been quite safe; there are people
living in circumstances of fear (war, poverty, etc.) every day of their
lives
and my life in this respect has been fortunate.

And it is time to get more active now. Last Thursday I joined a meeting
of self-organized groups who want to help the victims of the earthquake.
They want to establish a long-term and continuous presence in the area,
so they can see with their own eyes what is needed and what not. Fossa,
close to L'Aquila, is the village which will mainly receive this help,
as there are good contacts with the mayor of this place (it has been
proven to be even hard to enter the affected areas and bring stuff there
as there is heavy police presence and controls; they will not let
'un-accredited' groups in to deliver materials...) There will be
established a 'base camp' and plans are made for a tea
room/library/cinema space in the area. There will be a list of
necessities that will be collected and brought there by volunteers. A
website is now online and still under construction,
www.epicentrosolidale.org,  from which
everything is coordinated. If any of you want to do something in any
way, I think this initiative
is the one I personally support the most (as it is direct,
self-organized and local). I will try to see if the website can be
translated into English soon and if it is possible to transfer money to
the account mentioned there from outside of Italy.

For now, greetings and thanks for reading,
Lizette

Earthquake update

(For those of you who missed it: I was in Rome the time the big
earthquake happened last Monday morning and my house 40 km from the epicenter is fine. I didn't lose anybody close to me, but I do know people who lost their house.)

I am writing from Rome. Bruno and me took the decision to not stay at
home still for yet another while, as the area can still not be called 'safe' and there are new earthquakes every day. On Thursday we received the
information that the core area would be moving to the south, closer to
where we live and that was enough to make us decide to go home to take the cat and some more stuff and bring them to Rome.

This week has been incredibly tiresome, worrysome, emotional and what
not. I had to try do 'divide' myself over fear for my
own life and house, sadness for the people who lost lives or houses, my
parents (planned) visit which could not go as planned,
and the feeling of wanting to help but not being able to.

It was the first time ever i got to experience an earthquake. What is
most horrible about it for me is not only to physically experience it,
to know what damage it can cause, to see the grief and broken houses but
also, on top of that, to not be able to know that it is
over. It can happen any time again, with more devastating results. Yet
in the mean time, the sun is shining, the birds are singing,
spring is in full bloom and it seems it's all good. Well, most
earthquakes happen at night, i now know; it is the influence of the moon
which
causes not only sea tides, but also earth tides! So when the moon is
out, there is a higher risk. So can you believe i wouldn't be able to sleep
a calm night's sleep in this knowledge?

Friday i even got to see the damaged area with my own eyes, when we went
to L'Aquila to bring sleeping bags to Bruno's friend
who lost his house and had been sleeping on the floor for days. L'Aquila
is in the middle of the mountains and it's cold there, at night -1 degree.
So we bought them good sleeping bags and got up early to bring them to
L'Aquila. Eliseo and his wife Rita then showed us their house and the
neighborhood around it. Incredible. Most houses were still standing but
all were damaged: the walls had big cracks or had fallen down. Well,
i am sure you saw the images on tv. It looks like a ghost town, but a
bit further down the road there is a lot going on, all kinds of
services, like fire protection, cops, carabinieri, military, civil protection, etc etc take care of many things.

This week we will return to our house, as we decided that our lives have
to somehow get back to 'normal' again. At least here in Rome we had
some time to think and talk and reflect. Of course we have been
informing ourselves about the situation and it seems that there are, and
have been, small earthquakes every day everywhere in Italy for a long
time, or actually always. They are unpredictable and happen often, but
they also are not always, or rather rarely, as damaging as the one
almost one week ago now. So we have to learn to live with this knowledge
and accept that it could, but also could not, happen again. I should
make peace with the village, the region, my house again, as nothing is
certain and many things are dangerous (I think the last days I spent in
Rome have been more dangerous than actually staying in Scurcola; traffic
here is
crazy, for example!). I want to go home and feel safe and not feel panic
every time hear a strange sound or every time I see the lamp on the
ceiling moving. I want to appreciate the fact that this time, I have
not experienced physical or material damage. I want to acknowledge the
fact that up until now, my life has been quite safe; there are people
living in circumstances of fear (war, poverty, etc.) every day of their
lives and my life in this respect has been fortunate.

And it is time to get more active now. Last Thursday I joined a meeting
of self-organized groups who want to help the victims of the earthquake.
They want to establish a long-term and continuous presence in the area,
so they can see with their own eyes what is needed and what not. Fossa,
close to L'Aquila, is the village which will mainly receive this help,
as there are good contacts with the mayor of this place (it has been
proven to be even hard to enter the affected areas and bring stuff there
as there is heavy police presence and controls; they will not let
'un-accredited' groups in to deliver materials...) There will be
established a 'base camp' and plans are made for a tea
room/library/cinema space in the area. There will be a list of
necessities that will be collected and brought there by volunteers. A
website is now online and still under construction,
www.epicentrosolidale.org, from which
everything is coordinated. If any of you want to do something in any
way, I think this initiative
is the one I personally support the most (as it is direct,
self-organized and local). I will try to see if the website can be
translated into English soon and if it is possible to transfer money to
the account mentioned there from outside of Italy.

For now, greetings and thanks for reading,
Lizette

One thing I like about living on the 'countryside' is the closer contact to the seasons. In the city, I had started to miss that.
I have vivid memories of 6 years of biking to school, 45 minutes in the morning, and 45 in the afternoon. No matter the weather, I almost always biked, as the next bus stop was a 15 minutes walk and the train station a 15 minutes bike ride. So I came to understand that west wind (most common in that part of the Netherlands) meant hard work in the morning and being pushed home by the wind in the afternoon. West wind was strong, not constant, bringing rain. East wind is a continuous force to work against, since it seemed it never worked in my advantage. It came from the land (whereas west wind came from the near sea) and was either bringing very hot or very cold weather. It meant being fast in the morning, but after a long day of school, fighting against the wind and the cold in the afternoon.
Part of the route to school was a long road through the fields. The road was very Dutch: flat, fields, windmills. All kinds of animals greeted me every morning: cows, horses, sheep. I miss biking this road in spring: flowers jumping out of the soil, little lambs jumping around.
Okay, before I bury myself in nostalgy, I jump to city life.
In Berlin, for instance, there is not much wind. Weatherwise, Berlin is rather boring. I think I have experienced 5 thunderstorms in 5 years.The lack of wind in Berlin makes for the famous stable grey sky that drives foreigners back home, or in my case, southwards.

Now, I live in the south and it has been strange. 100 Kilometers away is Rome, with a totally different climate than here. I, growing up below sealevel, had to learn what it means to live at 700 meters altitude. Up here it is 10 degrees colder than in Rome. One hour away, people walk around in t-shirts, here I see the fresh snow from last night.

Spring is waiting and I haven't been riding a bike for months! Shame on me. That will be different soon. In the mean time, I make bread and the last winter and first spring vegetables. I am working on an article about wild coffee, and will finish translating a big text. And spend some time waiting for answers work/career-related...

In the mean time, this is how you make gnocchi, as a father teaches his son who's wearing a cute apron! (Next time I know how to properly hold the camera, sorry!)

Food is not completely under our control, fortunately. We may think otherwise, sometimes, using refrigerators to slow down the rotting process that is inherent to all living things, which all food once was (or should have been). Yet some things in the fridge strive hard for their survival and rise like a phoenix from the ashes. I pulled an bag containing rapette out of the fridge, expecting the sight of dying vegetables, but not this:

I honored this braveness by putting them in a glass, where they caught the last instances of February sun. It is March now, and the weather turned bad, but the flowers are still there.

Rain (=unwillingness to go to the bakery)+ongoing excitement about new oven=

My first bread in a while! Baked with Italian flour and homemade sourdough. Sourdough fascinates me. You just leave a mix of flour and water in the open air for a while. The mix catches whatever bacteria and yeasts are in the flour and air and starts to ferment slowly. Some care (consisting in stirring the mix and feeding it every day with some flour and water) and patience and after some 5 days you can bake with it. Then again some patience, because the bread does not rise as fast as with conventional yeast, so it has to stay in a warm place for quite long (overnight). But what turns out is a bread just consisting of flour, water and salt! It also tastes different from Italian bread, is more compact, and it keeps longer.
The sourdough does live a long life, either fed every day at room temperature, or spending its life in the fridge.

Last steps in the snow

Who said Italy was all about sun? Since I moved here in October of last year, I have never seen so much rain, or never slept under so many blankets. Yet for a person born below sea level and used to endless horizons, this winter is/was a special one, mostly spent at 700 meters above sea level. There are the mountains of the Abruzzo National Park, always, when I look out the window. On top of that, the massive Velino ready around the corner to take my breath away: a big, big stone, 2486 meters high . I climbed it this summer and am still in awe (and not just of my own achievement...). It taught me that the best use of sun rays is mountain glow.

Some work I did

December, January and February were thus mostly spent indoors, also because I started my new job as a translator for INRAN, the Italian National Institute for Research on Food and Nutrition. I translate (Italian-English), amongst other things, the Institute's website and their Guidelines for a Healthy Nutrition. A great job, especially as I work at home! The picture shows the view from my window and also the "cat tv", a place from which the cat guards the little square and keeps me company at the same time.

Some things I ate

Yet who said Italy is a lot about food is right - partially, though, since like everywhere, it is what one makes of it. Just that here, the stuff to make something out of it seems a lot better. The emphasis lies on simple, ingredients go over compositions; perfect for a soul like me. When something tastes good by itself, why spoil it by adding things?

Some favorites, clockwise:

* topinambur, or Jerusalem artichoke: the cooking water turns green after a while! (Probably a chemical reaction to the pan's metals)

* olives and fresh mozzarella di bufala: cliché, but what can I say?

* puntarelle: bitter, but as all green vegetables taste good with oil and salt!

* minestrine: just water, tiny pasta, salt, parmigiano and some olive oil to make me happy!

Some places I visited

A trip was made earlier this month, to the Puglian town Martina Franca. Three days of being stuffed with specialties as stracciatella, orecchiette, salad of raw artichoke marinated in lemon, and many fresh oranges. All locally produced, of course. I am now unsure whether I prefer Sicily or Puglia, food-wise...

Martina Franca is a town to literally get lost in, but I was brave and found interesting things in the tiny white streets, where my photographic eye seemed to be on the lookout for details. On the way back to Central Italy, we visited the area around the Basilicata town Matera and were once again treated with stunning landscapes and our beloved cruschi (crunchy-fried sweet peppers).

I went to Rome many times, to the Netherlands to celebrate my 30th birthday and sometimes I even (!) made it to join Bruno on his ventures in 'his' Abruzzo mountains. This week, I went with him to the National Park, one hour from our home. Goal: "I want to see a fox" We left at 5.30 in the dark cold morning to look for them. Some dead foxes and glimpses of foxes in the streets of Berlin apart, I had never really seen a fox and knew that they are a beautiful mix between a dog and a cat (leaning more towards the cat side, fortunately) and not too shy. High up in the Park, there were stretches of meadows covered with snow where many foxes had been spotted. We managed to see four that day and I even got to see the humble spectacle of a fox jumping snout-first in the snow to catch a mouse - twice! (New goal: wolf)

(picture by Bruno, and thanks to him my pics are now looking better!)

Some thoughts I have

Knee-deep snow, maybe the last of this season for me? For sure I am looking forward to spring: reading books and planting plants on the huge roof terrace; smelling Rome in spring the first time in 12 years; learning more about wild edible plants; eating licorice ice cream in Tagliacozzo; going out on the bike to the countryside; climbing to "Croce" on the hill behind my house more often and of course eating the food that season brings.

That was nothing!

In the previous post I wrote about being excited to find many gambe secche and to try them out. Well, that that time's funghi hunt was nothing compared to the next ones! One of the good things about living here right now is that I have a lot of time to explore and to be swept by whatever current is passing by. So a short walk to the postoffice turned out to be a funghi hunt with a real expert. We encoutered an uncle on the street who was just on his way to collect funghi and he offered us a ride and free advice. Hours were spent in the fields and it is a great thing to be outside, surrounded by beautiful mountains, breathing fresh air, searching for free food!
That day, we looked for prataioli, boleti pinophili and again gambe secche. And after hours of collecting, chatting, drinking homemade limoncello at the uncle's house, I came home with this bag in my cold hands: 1,5 kg!

Collecting food yourself is exciting: contrary to growing food in a garden (which I'd like to start next year), which entails the slow process of seeing seeds sprout and plants shooting up in the air, there is the fast excitement of finding the things you are looking for. You start recognizing the places in the grass where boleti are hiding, and the ring shape that gambe secche make. There is some greed in it, but fortunately the quite early sunset here in the south of Europe puts this to an end. It is slow, though, and collecting is not the end, for this 1,5 kilo worth of edibles needs to be cleaned before consumption. Removing snails, legs, slime and grass, meanwhile pondering over in which way they will end up on the plate.
After cleaning and sorting:

Now, the question is: what to do with this abundance? Here are some answers.
The prataioli:
- went into a salad (the fresh pink ones)
- were chopped finely into a thick soup with nothing else but butter, flour, pepper, salt and stock. (The soup was described 'Nordic'. I took it as a compliment.)
The boletus pinophilus is not very valued by Italians as it is a very watered down, C-class 'version' of the famous porcino, still I liked it:
- 'classic Italian style' in red wine, garlic and peperoncino and eaten on fire-roasted bread.
The gambe secche
- were eaten with linguine
- were put to dry.
Finally, all leftovers and also results of another hunt were made into risotto.
Here is a picture which shows some kitchen marvels and my excellent computer skills:

And as winter is coming, I will spend some more time in Scurcolan fields armed with nothing but a knife and a plastic bag....

Dry legs

I moved to Italy now one month ago. From January on, I will start my new job as translator for INRAN, the Italian national institute for nutrition. Until then, I will focus on learning Italian and exploring my new home and its surroundings. Fascinated as I had become in Berlin by eating 'found food' from my roof terrace, I am happy to be able to explore this further here in Italy. It is autumn, and warm days where I can sit outside on the amazing terrace and read a book find their counterparts in heavy rains and thunderstorms. (Yesterday night, a lightning and thunder were right above the house and both struck so hard that the windows shook in their frames, the cat stayed under the bed for hours and my own body seemed to be electrified with adrenalin and maybe even electricity....) Autumn brings interesting weather and many things to find.

The first ever mushrooms I picked myself are called 'gambe secche', dry legs, and are apparently good in pasta (but hey, in Italy, everything which is not ananas or banana or peanut butter seems to be good with pasta! It is great that I finally can live without eating the dreaded 'Nudeln', the German blasphemisation of pasta....). Gambe secche have long stems which are quite hard and not very enjoyable. After having picked them on a field at sunset their legs were brutally removed and the crowns were carefully placed on newspaper so that they can dry. Interestingly, today they began to release their spores. Resting high on a shelf in the kitchen (to shield them from the cat and her omnipresent hairs), they throw a wave of their smell into the room every now and then: a bit irony, and downright weird. As they are still drying, I have no clue about how they taste, but I read somewhere that they are sweet and therefore are sometimes used in cookies. I do not have the abundance, nor a working oven to try such interesting experiments, but I trust the Italians and their pasta!

Autumn

Yesterday I moved to Italy, after having spent the last 5 years in Berlin. There was a lot of packing and categorizing stuff to do, this gave me no time to reflect or get sad, fortunately! I took some pictures those days, for as we all know, pictures tell more than words!
View from my window on a clear night:

A nice dinner shared with my nice boyfriend. Potatoes+salvia, leeks+peas, scamorza+chives:


Autumn is beautiful, for it produces wonderfully colored things like this:

Hokkaido pumpkin for risotto


And mangold/bietola:

And speaking of autumn colors, this pic made by Bruno this week shows one of the reasons I moved to Abruzzo:

Deze weken doe ik mijzelf eens tegoed aan het veelvuldig bellen met Belgische mannen. Oftewel, ik werk in een callcenter en heb in het kader van dit hooggewaardeerde werk de volgende zin:
"Goedemorgen/middag, mijn naam is LP, ik werk voor Professor Baaken van de Universiteit van Münster en bel in het kader van een klantentevredenheidsonderzoek voor het bedrijf WILO. Heeft u met WILO pompen te maken en zou u een kwartiertje de tijd hebben om wat vragen te beantwoorden?" zo ongeveer duizend keer uit mogen spreken. Naast het plezier dat dit mij verschaft, maak ik grappen met mijn collega's, oefen ik mijn Frans, kijk en luister zéér geïnteresseerd naar mijn Deense collega's en verbaas me erover hoe weinig kennis Duitsers bezitten over het verschil België-Vlaanderen-Nederland-Holland. Mijn collega Sander en ik spreken dus deze weken beide 'holländisch'. Moge de beste winnen ;).

Hoe dan ook, het werk is dusdanig stomvervelend dat ik me uit gewoonte en verveling richt op details. Op afwisselingsgebied is helaas bij dit werk Schraalhans keukenmeester, maar ik heb toch prachtige dingen gevonden. Het adres wordt altijd aangegeven als ik een potentiele geinterviewde bel. Sommige Belgische straatnamen zijn prachtig, ik laat ze voor zichzelf spreken, maar heb wel een hierarchie aangebracht, mijn top 3:

1. Weg naar de Grauwe Steen
2. Engelse Wandeling
3. Politieke Gevangenenstraat

De volgende namen verdienen niet minder een plaats op dit blog:
- Ginderbuiten
- Oorlogstraat
- Kastanjekouter
- Lutlommel
- Madeliefjeslaan
- Roodkapjeslaan

De plaatsnaam 'Dworp' wil ik mijn eventuele lezers ook niet onthouden, en 'Elewaut' moet worden getrouwd!

berlin roof food

I have a huge roof terrace with many plants on it. The plants that were planted in spring all died from the month-long drought early summer. When it started to rain again, new, 'unplanned' plants came up, and some of the spring plants did survive. Now is the time to harvest, and I am ever so happy to be able to eat a meagre amount of stuff I consume from my own 'backyard' in the city!
There is enough to make a salad rumex and tropaeolum with turnip and watercress:

and my favorite pasta-comfort-food, penne with salvia, butter and parmigiano:

After having worked in so many schools in little villages, it was time to visit a big-city-school in Berlin. Despite the apparently smaller distance between the sleeping place and the school, this still meant getting up at 6 in the morning. One advantage about sleeping at home: the coffee is much much better! And the cat likes to spend her nights on my blanket.
Big city school impressions: quite spoiled, bored, uninterested kids. So much to do at such little distance, but their main hobbies were 'chatting and talking on the phone'. This mood worsened, insults were made, kids were kicked out, not so nice. I had to go drink an after-work beer to make it up:
I should make the second theme of this blog 'pictures on the walls of schools'. The pictures in Berlin reflected a deep longing for the not-so-far-away country life.

Yet the animals outside wanted to explore the inside world.

Today not so much text, but only some pics...I noticed I have to learn some HTML to make this blog and the pics look nicer, and the clickable pics should be smaller next time.
Promise! For now: I will eat the chocolate-almond pudding I just made, with of course a cherry on top. Rain on a Saturday night.

Genthin and Parchen

Oh dear! I finally, finally worked at two German schools again, after 1,5 months of submerging myself in Italian goodness. I came home on a Sunday and dove deep into Sachsen-Anhalt village life on Tuesday. Quite a culture shock, and I think I can say I was the one with the darkest skin color in entire Genthin....
Once again, the culinarities that German small town offers were also represented here, and not more than that: one "Asia-Imbiss", one pizzeria (but with real oven!) and one Gasthaus with German food. Spoiled as I had gotten by Italian pizza, I appreciated the German interpretation even less this time: thick crust, 1 kilo cheese and 3 olives. That covered one night of dinner. The second night I was lazy and opted for the Gasthaus in the hotel we stayed at, which resulted in eating a not-even-so-bad tomatosoup (yet the mozzarella which they had creatively added, had tried to take its original ball-shaped form again at the bottom of the cup) and boiled potatoes with butter and parsley.

On the schools, we were provided with food this time, but I didn't have the time to eat so much, let alone take pictures. The second day, there were salads in boxes, and old fries. The fries were quite disappointing, I thought Germans formed a holy alliance with potatoes? Hm, maybe an exception was made here, for as we all know, Dutch make better fries.


There were more things in the room as I ate the fries:



Only on the last day I found a plate I could eat in peace, after a whole day of running around trying to do my job as well as possible. Unfortunately, I didn't like it so much; on the pictures it looks quite harmless, but I simply cannot bear this slimy substance on an empty stomach.



And even though the food was not too special (but had I expected that?), there were other interesting things: the usual skeletons in the biology classroom seemed to be taken care of with love, grasshoppers seem to like chewing gum, flies and coffee beans can easily be confused and funeral dresses are not so sad after all.

Thanks to Chocolate and Zucchini, I found this 'game':

"The Omnivore's Hundred is an eclectic and entirely subjective list of 100 items that Andrew Wheeler, co-author of the British food blog Very Good Taste, thinks every omnivore should try at least once in his life.

He offered this list as the starting point for a game, along the following rules:
1. Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2. Bold all the items you've eaten.
3. Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4. Optional extra: post a comment on Very Good Taste, linking to your results.

[Update: In response to the numerous questions his list raised, Andrew published an FAQ explaining the how, the why, and the wherefore.] "

I added a couple more things (and Bruno also had some suggestions), as I found that for a vegetarian like me, a lot of things are crossed out on the mere fact they are dead animals which I don't eat. If you don't know some of them, Wikipedia is there to teach you!

The VGT Omnivore's Hundred:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare -vaguely remember eating it when i was a kid-
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda -without anchovies, i'd eat it-
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo -without fish, i'd eat it-
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects -yet not as a culinary treat, more a result of biking with open mouth-
43. Phaal
44. Goat's milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald's Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S'mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst -vegetarian-
65. Durian
66. Frogs' legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill - i had the chance once, but didn't eat it-
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse -as a kid-
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam -as a kid-
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

I feel free to add a couple more:

101. Chinotto (Neri)
102. Hangop
103. Germknödel
104. Straciatella (the cheese)
105. Cedrata
105. Home-made seitan from scratch
106. Peanuts in coke (the drink, duh)
107. Kale
108. Salmiak liquor
109. Dubbelzoute drop
110. Liquorice (the root itself)
111. Salicornia
112. Marmite
113. Liquid smoke
114. Gobbi
115. 'Patatje oorlog' (fries with peanut butter sauce, mayonaise and onions)
116. Anything from a dumpster
117. Salty hering
118. Gelsi
119. Pierogi
120. Agretti
121. Rapette
122. Bryndza cheese from Slovakia
123. Marcetto
124. Porcupine
125. Raw octopus
126. Slibovica
127. Willow sprouts
128. Chips & vinegar
129. Rabbit testicles
130. Cat/Dog food
131. Quail eggs
132. Tempeh
133. Mosto cotto
134. Fresh stroopwafel

Pearls

This blog is often in the back of my head, searching for stories to tell. Yet I have been quite busy these last weeks, and the stories I could tell would be about writing a MA thesis in Political Philosophy, working in the office of the project to set up a ordening system for all the digital and analog stuff produced by us, preparing for a trip from Paris to Copenhagen and leading a group of young kids on a school trip through Berlin. I know there are many blogs managing to write possibly interesting stuff about exactly these subjects, but in me, "the writing muscle was not tickled" (would you use these things with a serious tone in spoken language, I would call such sentence a "pearl") for a while.

I need to stumble upon things, and exactly that happened. Well, not exactly stumbled. I was in the Story of Berlin museum with the group of school kids as I found a memory card on the floor there, just beside the official GDR state officials' car. I asked my group if anyone had lost it, and of course, only about three kids heard this, so I took the card in case someone would come to me to ask for it. No one did. The card ended up in my room and today I decided to see what is on it to detect any possible relations to the kids in my group. To my surprise, I found not a familiar, but a somehow kindred spirit.

The card contained three pictures of people whom I did not recognize. All the other pictures were of food products! Either cans with typical German meat products, seemingly of good quality, or with the products on a plate. I wonder with which purpose they were made, as they are made with some care and try to display the products in the best possible way. Was it the butcher who made the products who wants to advertise the products? A restaurant who has them on the menu? A tourist with an obsession for picturing food products?

The files do not carry any descriptions, and that makes it hard to tell which food comes from which can.









I will write the butcher mentioned on the can, maybe it was his card, and this story will have the happy end it does not deserve. For still: MEAT IS MURDER. And that is where the kinship ends!