Something to Carry Home
Part Three of "The Ways Travel Enchants Me"
Some trips are about the places. This one, I'm realizing now, was about both the people and the places. By the time I sat down with my brother in Germany, I'd already spent time with my sister. Two siblings, two countries, one unforgettable month.
My brother has always lived the furthest away. Once upon a time it was Japan, then Belgium, and now Germany. His work took him abroad initially, and somewhere along the way the abroad part just became life. They’d visit and we’d catch up over cooking and tables of food, wine, and yes, a dram or two. Oh, and always dessert.
So, the third leg of our trip took us to Frankfurt. There was a car rental with GPS in German, and then a stretch of autobahn that delighted my husband and horrified me. I’m honestly not sure I want to drive in Europe again. We landed (and I mean that, because it felt like the car was flying) in the darling little town of Otterberg.
My brother and his family had prepared a proper feast of assorted sausages and German burgers, and cheese that was delightfully pungent. I do love a good stinky cheese. My niece’s salad was colorful, flavorful with loads of crunch, and her sourdough bread, which she’s perfected, paired perfectly with the meal.
My nephew sourced a Spanish wine that made me ask to see the label several times. He also brought with him from Madrid, where he’s currently in university, an aged Jamón, some of the best I’ve tasted. It was a full table, and more than once I had to blink hard and look somewhere else so I wouldn’t cry in front of everyone. I’ve missed these people. We were only missing my beautiful sister-in-law, who was on a trip long planned before ours.
For dessert, my brother set out his whiskey collection for a tasting; he loves it more than I do, which is saying something. We worked our way down the row, and I settled on a Highland with notes of caramel. My brother, fond of the peaty stuff, selected one from Islay.
Early one morning, we walked through ancient forest into town for Otterberg’s annual spring parade. Have you ever been to a parade in a small German town? Brass bands, assorted floats, children tossing candy, and at one point, a gaggle of witches marched by, waving broomsticks and dancing. I can truly say I’ve never seen anything like it. So of course, I had to post a bit of the video below.
After the parade we ordered döner from a little Turkish café, the only place open, and worth the wait in line. Warm flatbread is filled with thinly sliced, marinated meat that’s been cooked on a vertical rotisserie, and topped with vegetables, tzatziki, garlic sauce or a chile sauce. It was messy, flavorful and I enjoyed it so much, I failed to snap a picture.
We also visited Bernkastel-Kues, two villages tucked among hillsides covered in Riesling vineyards. We hiked a trail that wound alongside the rows of vines, still low and green this early in the season. I found myself trailing my hands along the soft leaves, stopping every so often to breathe in the scent of the vineyard.
At the top of the trail, the villages sat below us and looked like something out of a storybook. There were tile roofs, a river bending through the two towns, and the sky doing that dreamy postcard blue. I remember thinking, “This is exactly why we travel.”
My brother, sister and I share many things, but perhaps most of all, a love of good food, good drink, and lingering at the table long after dinner has ended. We also share a weakness for wandering a market with no real plan, just to see what's good that day.
One evening in Otterberg, we shopped at the local food market for dinner. The cheese counter alone was worth the trip. I got so lost in it, mesmerized by all the choices, once again I forgot to take a single picture.
We left with bags filled to the brim, including strawberries so sweet they tasted like candy and raspberries the size of my thumb.
Back at the house more laughter ensued, more food, and a fresh tomato appetizer prepared by my budding-chef nephew. I loved it so much I’m already making it at home (I posted the recipe below).
Once the evening had wound down my brother and I ended up sitting on his sofa. We finally had a chance to chat about the difficult events of the past year and our mother’s passing. My siblings have always been a light in the darkness, and a peace in my heart. Sitting there with my brother, sips in hand, I felt that peace again.
From Otterberg we drove to Strasbourg, France for a quick lunch and a walk-through Petite France. My onion soup arrived still bubbling around a crisp crouton and creamy cheese pulling in long strings off the spoon. My husband’s cheese flambé was made with Muenster, diced ham, potatoes, and then broiled until the top formed a crackling shell. It was so good I kept dipping my spoon into his bowl.
Walking back to our car, we passed an artist near a plaza. I’d noticed his paintings on the way to lunch, but this time I tugged my husband’s sleeve.
“Stop,” I said. “I want to look.”
Ever since my first trip abroad, I’ve made it a tradition to bring home one piece of art from each journey. Not just any piece, but one that stops me in my tracks.
There was a watercolor I kept coming back to, even as I admired the others. After I’d chosen the watercolor, the artist carefully turned it over. As he signed the back, I couldn’t help but feel that each painting meant something to him. Even though he was there to sell his work, nothing about the exchange felt transactional. It felt personal.
“Merci,” I said. “Your painting is beautiful.” Our eyes met, and he smiled.
It now hangs in the entryway of our home. Every time I pass by, I think of the artist who took such care in creating it, and that little plaza in France.
Next week, I'll share stories, photos, and maybe even a recipe from the final leg of our trip, where we celebrated a very special moment.
Wishing you peace, love & light,
Karista
My nephew Sebastian told me this dish started as two separate things. Pan con Tomate, the Spanish breakfast of toasted bread rubbed with garlic and piled with shaved tomato and olive oil. And Caprese, the Italian classic of buffalo mozzarella, tomato, and basil, non negotiable on the buffalo part, he insists. He merged the two, added a layer of prosciutto because why not, and the result is what I'm calling Sebastian Style Pan con Tomate.
Sebastian Style Pan con Tomate
Serve as Tapas, a summer starter, or light dinner with a glass of wine.
Serves 6
Ingredients
· 1 day-old baguette
· 1 ripe tomato, halved
· Extra virgin olive oil
· 2 balls buffalo mozzarella
· Prosciutto (optional, though I’d argue not really)
· Fresh basil leaves
· Salt
· Freshly ground black pepper
Instructions
1. Slice the baguette in half lengthwise. It should be a day old, just firm enough to hold up under everything piled on top. (I like to rub a half a garlic clove over the cut side of the bread.)
2. Rub the cut side of the tomato over the bread. The slightly stale crumb soaks up the juice without turning soggy.
3. Drizzle lightly with olive oil, saving some for the final finish.
4. Tear the prosciutto into bite-sized pieces and scatter over the bread.
5. Tear the mozzarella by hand into a bowl rather than slicing it, then spoon it evenly over the top.
6. Season with salt and cracked pepper.
7. Top with basil leaves, whole or torn.
8. Finish with one more light drizzle of olive oil.
9. Slice into finger-sized portions and serve.
Loving these travel posts Karista! I feel
like I was there! You have a way with words.♥️
So fun to share in your lovely travels!