Matters of Taste

Chairlift to Heaven

Led Zeppelin had it wrong. It’s a chairlift that whisks you up to heaven when you’re in the Grödnertal (Gardena Valley) of Italy’s northernmost Süd Tirol (Alto Adige) region.

 A one-person chairlift.

A rickety wooden contraption with a makeshift metal “safety” bar.

A chairlift that looks, horrifyingly, to be about the same vintage as me.

That’s the chairlift that ferried us uphill for 20 minutes from a town called St. Ulrich to a magical mountain-top land of forests, meadows, meandering paths, rustic inns, 360-degree views, wild flowers and wonderful comfort food, including a scrumptious tiramisu.

We arrived at the lift at noon, after leaving our car in the St. Ulrich underground parking lot and hiking up the hillside for about five minutes. There was no line for the ride, so the operator gave each of our backpacks its own chair, then gestured for us to stand on the yellow painted feet on the concrete platform. Within 60 seconds, I was alone with Mother Nature, listening to the cacophonic symphony of the town’s church bells which peel for 15 full minutes each day at noon. When they ceased, the silence of the forest was eerie, punctuated every now and then by chirping birds, running streams and rustling trees.

On top, and reachable only by foot and chairlift, sits Berghaus Raschötz (berghaus translates as “mountain inn;” Raschötz or Resciesa in Italian, is the name of the surrounding natural park).  Owned and operated by Marlene Schenk and her husband Peter, the building has been a “refuge” since the 1950s but was restored and enlarged a few years ago to include a half-dozen supremely comfortable, balconied rooms.

(There is a sketchy dirt road linking the building to the town below but only the innkeepers in the area have access. In the summer, Oban, the Schenks’ affable golden retriever rides up to the inn in the family SUV. In winter, which is the inn’s busiest season, he rides in the chairlift, all 80 pounds of him firmly planted in Peter’s lap.)

We spent two nights in Berghaus Raschötz, hiking during the day, playing Bananagrams (available at Amazon.com) over beers in the late afternoon, eating fabulous Süd Tirol food prepared by India-born Ram Khanna, and sleeping like babies under fluffy down comforters. Each morning, we awoke to a “bell chorus” courtesy of the local cows, and slid into the comfy wooden booths of the breakfast room for a spread of cheeses, meats, yogurt, fruits and great coffee.

Frau Schenk shared with us her recipe for tiramisu, a remarkably simple creation that I was able to prepare in my own kitchen in less than 30 minutes. My version wasn’t as good as that of Berghaus Raschötz, perhaps because they use fresh, local mascarpone, while I used a product imported from Italy probably a couple of months ago.

But the final product was light and creamy, and a delicious reminder of two idyllic days spent in heaven.

(I’ll have more about the hikes we made and the lunches we enjoyed during those hikes in coming posts.)

Here’s Frau Schenk’s recipe. Her instructions are pretty casual. Feel free to improvise the amounts.

BERGHAUS RASCHÖTZ TIRAMISU
Serves 8

1 pound mascarpone
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
4 large eggs, separated
Rum to taste (I used about ¼ cup)
Savoiardi biscuits (I used Vicenzovo)
Cold coffee (espresso is better than brewed coffee)
Cocoa, to taste

Whip the mascarpone, sugar, egg yolks, and rum together.
In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Fold egg whites into mascarpone mixture.
Dunk the biscuits in cold coffee quickly and crumble into bite-sized pieces. Let sit on a plate for a few minutes.
In a serving dish, place a layer of the mascarpone mixture; scatter biscuits over it; cover with another layer of mascarpone.
Refrigerate for at least 2 hours. Just before serving, place cocoa in a strainer and sift lightly over the top of the tiramisu.

Food for the Fourth

Getting food to fit a Fourth of July theme is usually a tortured and not terribly tasty mission. But I discovered a couple of terrific recipes on RecipeGirl, the popular, dependable and visually attractive Web site.

One patriotic side dish, a perfect accompaniment to steaks and burgers from the backyard grill, is RecipeGirl’s Red, White and Blue Potato Salad. Multi-hued fingerling potatoes  are in the marketplace right now (and a bargain at Costco stores). In this dish, they’re teamed with hard-boiled egg, red onion, fresh dill and chives and a  spunky Dijon mustard vinaigrette.

The site’s Red, White and Blueberry Cheesecake Bars are far more sophisticated (and delicious) than the predictable layered Jello creations and cupcakes schmeared wth garish blue frosting.  These elegant bars are packed with seasonal fruits, and sturdy enough to pack up and bring to a picnic or potluck. Here's the recipe. Check out the Web site for lots more holiday fare.

Red, White and Blueberry Cheesecake Bars

1½ cups graham cracker crumbs
½ stick (4 Tbsp.) butter, melted
1½ packages (12 ounces) reduced-fat cream cheese
¾ cup granulated sugar
¼ cup lowfat milk
2 Tbs cornstarch
2 Tbs fresh lemon juice
zest of one lemon
3 large eggs
1 cup fresh raspberries (more or less, as desired)
¾ cup fresh blueberries

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line an 8×8-inch pan with aluminum foil. Spray lightly with cooking spray.

2. In a small bowl, mix crumbs and melted butter. Press mixture firmly into the bottom of the prepared pan.

3. In a food processor (or with an electric mixer) blend cream cheese, eggs, milk, sugar, cornstarch, lemon juice, and lemon zest just until smooth. Do not overbeat.

4. Pour the cream cheese mixture on top of the crumb crust. Scatter raspberries and blueberries on top.

5. Bake 35 to 40 minutes, or until touch to center feels slightly firm and set.

6. Cool completely before cutting. Use foil to lift cheesecake out of pan and onto a cutting board. Use a thin, sharp knife to cut into clean-looking bars (wiping blade clean with a paper towel between cuts). Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Servings: 16

Pie in the Sky...literally

Adventure, like beauty, is clearly in the eye of the beholder.

On Saturday night, I arrived in Munich, Germany after 10 days of what I would call "adventure" -- that is, hiking the meadows, mountain tops, cliffs and chasms of the Dolomites and sleeping in rustic inns accessible only by foot.

But when I checked into the Sofitel Bayerpost Hotel, I discovered a new definition of "adventure" -- a "restaurant" suspended by cranes and cables 15 stories high over the hotel's elegant driveway.  Operated by the MyDays company, the dangling eatery splashed the words "adventure" and "once-in-a-lifetime experience" and "magical moments" on banners lining the sidewalk and parking lot next to Munich's Hauptbahnhof (train station).

The allure of being strapped into a seat, hoisted 150 feet over a big-city parking lot, and fed fancy food and wine totally eludes me. But the gig drew a large and enthusiastic crowd on Saturday night, when 22 "adventuresome" diners (a full house) were  bolted into place while servers poured wine into large crystal glasses.

Dubbed "Dinner in the Sky," the "experience" costs upwards of 99 Euros per person (about $140 ) with alcoholic beverages extra. The actual supper in the stratosphere lasts about one hour; guests are told to plan on 1 1/2 hour for the whole event (the buckling into place takes at least 20 minutes). The Web site MyDays.de goes on at length about the "excitement" of the dinner but, curiously, never mentions the actual food. (Since I had had my share of heights in the Dolomites, I can't tell you anything about the menu either.)

"Dinner in the Sky" is just one of the "more than 800"  adventures that MyDays suggests. The company claims that its offerings are unique, outrageous and one-of-a-kind. The flying foie gras falls under the "Fantasy" category. The "Gourmet" category includes cheese seminars, market tours with hot-shot chefs, and a five-hour cooking class on "Erotic Food."  Bungy-jumping from the Europabrücke  (at 630 feet, it was Europe's highest bridge until 2004); "Body Flying" in a wind canal; and a sled tour with Huskies are some other ways to spend your time and money.

MyDays is available in several European countries; its Web site is in several languages, but not English.

High in (and on) the Dolomites

Barley Risotto. Beet Dumplings. Buckwheat Cake with Whipped Cream and Raspberry Coulis.

These are a few of the memorable meals we've had during a seven-day trekking adventure in Italy's Süd Tirol region. Some of my posts were interrupted by faulty Internet connections, etc. I'm now posting the ones that went AWOL...and I'll continue in the coming days to share the delicious dishes and once-in-a-lifetime experiences we've had here in the dramatic Dolomite mountains.

Hittin' the Sauce

“Garlic sauce” on pizza is a new one on me. That’s what we found last night at Kircher Sepp Pizzeria in the postcard-perfect town of Barbian in Italy’s Süd Tirol region.

This pizzeria, in a town of maybe a thousand residents, has an extensive menu of hand-made pizzas that are cooked in a wood-burning oven and served in either the folksy “tavern” or on the outdoor terrace perched over the verdant Eisack Valley.

Because “garlic sauce” was part of it, we ordered the Kircher Sepp Pizza. The crust was thin and crackle-edged. The toppings were judiciously applied and included grilled eggplant rounds, grilled zucchini, a few local mushrooms, a bit of tomato sauce and cheese, and, in the middle, a giant plop of white stuff that looked like it could be whipped cream.  After schmearing it all over the pizza, we bit in, and were pleasantly surprised by how yummy it was.

The sauce, which our server proudly explained was homemade, consists of mayonnaise, a bit of white wine, very finely minced (almost pureed) garlic, and salt and pepper. I guess it’s the Süd Tirol’s answer to aioli.

I’m anxious to try it at home on a pizza with paper-thin prosciutto and onion, or maybe one of  crumbled sauteed lamb and red pepper, or maybe a barbecued chicken pizza.  Then again, it’s a  natural addition to all kinds of sandwiches, too.

Gasthof Kircher Sepp (a small, family-run hotel) is in the middle of paradise.  The Süd Tirol (also called Alto Adige) is a region of deep valleys, high mountains, vast green meadows inhabited by cows with bells around their necks, and a mind-boggling network of walking and hiking paths.

Barbian has a breathtaking view of the Dolomite mountains on the other side of the Eisack Valley. From the geranium-festooned balcony of our room we’re enjoying a panorama that includes rolling hills, emerald green meadows, the wide Grödner and Villnöss valleys, castles and church steeples, and, behind it all, the imposing grey stone spires of the Dolomites.

I won’t be writing for a couple days, as we’re heading into the Dolomites tomorrow for a five-day trek. We’ll hike all day and spend the nights at small “refuges” that are famed for good food (schlepped up the mountain on chair lifts) and even better camaraderie.

A Father’s Advice…Finally Heeded

Some 30  years ago, my husband, T,  and I were heading to Austria to live for a year. He had an appointment in the Hematology department at the University of Innsbruck and I was going along for the ride.

My father-in-law, who was born in Munich and studied chemistry at the University in Vienna (on his way to becoming a world-famous perfumer) was excited to share his memories with us and give us recommendations on what to see and do.

His two most enthusiastic suggestions were #1: Ski in Lech, a quaint town in Austria’s Arlberg region and #2: Eat his favorite dish, Wiener Zwiebelrostbraten.  (Translation: Viennese Onion Roasted Meat; pictured here courtesy of  ThePassionateCook.com.)

The first advice we followed during the year in Innsbruck when we spent a weekend in the Arlberg skiing at Lech (and neighboring Zürs and St. Christoph) where we found the crowds pushy and the avalanche danger frighteningly high.

The second bit of fatherly counsel was finally heeded this week when my husband ordered Wiener Zwiebelrostbraten at Ofenloch, an elegant old restaurant on a cobbled alley in the center of Vienna. He loved the tangle of wispy, crispy onions that crowned the dish, loved the tender beef rib roast that melted in his mouth, and the rich brown sauce of butter, beef stock and natural juices. But most of all he loved the fact that he was eating something his father loved….in a place where his father strolled and studied and ate and drank as a young man.

Ernest Shiftan died in 1976 just before we left on our Austrian adventure. We’ve often felt sad – during both our year in Innsbruck and our recent stays in Vienna – that we never had the chance to tell him how much we loved experiencing the places and things that were important parts of his life.

But on this night, at least, we felt that he was there with us, enjoying the mood, the food…and our company.

Grocery Shopping as Sport

So many restaurants. So little time.

That’s been our lament as we attempt to eat everything in sight in Vienna in just 10 days. But we took a break from the adventure over the weekend and cooked dinner at home.

We did it for several reasons. First, was the opportunity it gave us to shop for ingredients at the famous Karmelitermarkt, one of Vienna’s best-known outdoor markets. Secondly, we wanted to repeat the successful roast chicken dinner we had made during our October visit to Vienna. Lastly, with evenings in the high 70s, we could eat on our apartment’s Dachterrasse (roof-top terrace).

The Karmelitermarkt is set in a picturesque square in the middle of the 2nd district, known as Leopoldstadt. This was a walled Jewish community in the 1600s, and remained a predominantly Jewish neighborhood (without the walls) up until WW II. Today, it’s a bustling community of Jewish families who have returned, as well as ethnic groups from Eastern Europe.

The market includes about a dozen permanent shops, peddling meats, poultry, flowers and produce, as well as a handful of  restaurants and cafes with Austrian, Russian and Turkish owners. But it’s on Saturday mornings that the Karmelitermarkt really shines. That’s when it turns into an authentic Bauernmarkt, or farmers market, and dozens of farmers from the countryside set up their wares. That’s when you get chives and carrots just pulled out of the dirt; mushrooms gathered from the forest before  dawn; eggs still warm from the hen house.

It was frustrating to pass up most of the gorgeous produce, but since we were cooking just one dinner we had to settle for a hefty bunch of fat, white asparagus; a bunch of heurige (new, “from this year”) potatoes; a handful of salad greens; a couple of tomatoes;  some fresh rosemary and chives; and exquisite strawberries for dessert.

We snatched a plump chicken from the poultry lady, a bottle of Prosecco and a bottle of Zweigelt from the upscale “deli” on the edge of the square; and dark, walnut-speckled bread from the bakery, then headed home. A quick stop at Billa, the tiny neighborhood grocery store, gave us the rest of the necessities. You can see from the photo that I have finally gotten the hang of bringing my own bags to the market.  After  being embarrassed a few times in October (see my post on getting a wagon-full of stuff home without  bags),  I was smart enough to bring two reusable bags from home this time, including this one I received last weekend at my Hood College 40th reunion.

Dinner was simple and spectacular. We rubbed the chicken with olive oil, stuffed it with an onion, garlic cloves and rosemary sprigs and roasted it at high heat; roasted the potatoes with olive oil and more rosemary; steamed the asparagus and topped them with melted butter and a blizzard of snipped chives; and prepared the tomatoes Provencal style (pan-sauteed with garlic).

Unlike our October visit when I had most of my favorite kitchen tools at hand, this time I had to manage with what the typical Vienna apartment kitchen offers.

For anyone planning to rent an apartment in Europe – and renting an apartment is the way to go these days because it’s so much cheaper than a hotel and makes you a real part of a neighborhood – here’s a short list of things you’ll go crazy without:

**Plastic measuring cup and spoons
**Saran Wrap
**Baggies
**Coffee mugs
**Cutting board

For just 10 days I couldn’t rationalize schlepping my beloved Froth-au-Lait milk steamer but I did bring my slim, wand-like BonJour Automatic Milk Frother. And since the tiny stove-top espresso maker I found in the kitchen last time was gone I had to buy a new one for about $15.

Dejeuner Sur L’Herbe….Clothing Optional

The banks of the “beautiful Blue Danube” looked like Manet’s famous painting yesterday…a glorious sunny Sunday beckoned residents to sprawl on grassy knolls and in pebbly little coves along the water’s edge. Just one thing was missing from the Impressionist scene….clothes.

 We encountered the rather surreal scene as we biked on the Donauinsel, the Danube Island, a spaghetti-thin strip of land sprouting from the middle of the river. The island’s 13 miles feature an extensive network of paved and gravel paths perfect for bikers, walkers and in-line skaters. The gently rolling, grassy hills invite city-weary citizens to stretch out on blankets and folding chairs. A few hardy sorts in wetsuits swim “laps.” But most people (and lots of dogs) go in just far enough to cool off.

Stretches of the Island (and the banks on both sides of the mainland), are loosely designated FKK. Freikörperkulture, or “free body culture,” is an extremely popular “philosophy” in German-speaking lands.  Though there were thousands of nude bodies out there yesterday, there was no sense of exhibitionism (with the possible exception of the naked bike-riders tooling along on beach cruisers. Oh, yeah, and the fat guy with dress shoes, dark socks and a black fanny pack.)  Little kids mingle with old people, and there’s no real “map” of clothing vs. clothing-free zones. Everyone just seems to go with the flow.

For everyone reading this saying “Oh, yuck,” you’ve got to believe me when I say that the rest of the scene – jewel-blue river,  cumulus clouds in blue sky, green grass, quaint Alpine chalet restaurants, the perfume of flowering trees, etc – is so entrancing that you can almost ignore the cast of characters.

Except in the restaurants. We managed to choose a restaurant -- the Dammhütte, on a little hill with a beautiful terrace overlooking the river – that, apparently, is in the FKK zone.  (Hey, I’m a food writer. I look at posted menus, not the clientele inside.)

Once we had settled ourselves at our umbrella-shaded table, I noticed that the gent at the next table had nothing under that paper napkin on his lap. 

Fortunately the menu chalkboards hanging on the side of the chalet were far more interesting than the sun-worshippers. And the food was terrific. In addition to a pretty standard written menu of sausages and sandwiches, the daily specials included grilled zander (a fish from the nearby Neusiedler Lake); golden wienerschnitzel with potato salad; pork chops; fried chicken salad; and spinach strudel.

Though I didn’t have much appetite in the 90-plus degrees heat, I couldn’t resist the Krautfleckerln, which translates as “cabbage with flecks of pasta.”  The mini ribbons of pasta were tossed with pieces of cabbage that had been sauteed slowly in plenty of butter and oil until they were caramelized. The dish’s subtle sweetness was a pleasant surprise.

Since our bike rental was for 24 hours – and we picked up the bikes yesterday at 11 am – we went back to the bike rental store this morning, jumped on our trusty steeds and went back to the Island for another lap.  In two hours we didn’t pass more than a dozen people.  And they were all dressed.

Pedal Power is an efficient rental operation that has a large selection of well-maintained bikes, and English-speaking personnel. They make the process so easy that it’s possible to rent a bike and see the city in this unique, supremely satisfying way even if you only have a couple hours. But,  once you’ve cruised the city center, the Danube Canal, the vineyards around Grinzing, the amazing “Tiergarten” (technically a zoo but really an enormous, wooded park), on a bike, I bet you’ll opt for this form of sight-seeing over and over again.

Pedal Power, which also runs guided bike tours in the city,  is located across from the Prater, the city’s famed amusement park, and next door to an U-Bahn stop.

Asparagus: A Delicious "Afterthought"

I’ll buy a beer for anyone out there who can tell me, honestly, that he/she’s had white asparagus mousse for dessert.

That’s what the creative minds in the kitchen of Glacis Beisl came up with last night.  This charming restaurant, on the back side of Vienna’s bustling Museum Quartier compex, used to be the stables for the Imperial brigade (or some kind of horsey group). It’s now a small café with big ideas…and an unbridled enthusiasm for eating white asparagus when they’re in season.  I had them in two of three dinner courses last night.

For those who believe that “Life’s short; eat dessert first,” I’ll start with the white asparagus mousse. Three plump clouds of mousse floated on a rich, condensed sauce of berry coulis accented with aged balsamic vinegar.  A shower of powdered sugar and a few ripe straw-and raspberries completed the picture.

The mousse was a fascinating mix of vegetal and sweet flavors.  If I had not read the menu, I might not have been able to guess what the main ingredient was (though I’d like to think I could have). There were probably some egg whites in there; maybe a bit of gelatin to hold it all together. The poufs looked like some of the pricey homemade marshmallows on the market now; the beguilingly sweet flavor lasted just a few seconds before becoming just a lovely memory.

The rest of the Glacis Beisl menu included white asparagus with buttered, parslied boiled potatoes, asparagus with smoked ham, asparagus cream soup, and asparagus with prosciutto. (It also offered spring cherries in a salad with cherry tomatoes and goat cheese mousse, and a seafood "bonbon" with a spring garlic bulgur wheat pilaf. But I opted for the Springtime for Vegetables double whammy:

The Eierschwammerltascherl auf Spargelcreme…a mouthful of vowels and consonants that translates simply into ravioli filled with the mushrooms of the day and sauced with, you guessed it, white asparagus cream.  Eierschwammerl are the same or close to the chanterelles in the American marketplace. At this time of year in Austria, they’re tiny and firm and fluted. The Beisl’s raviloli were filled with chopped mushrooms and little more. The “sauce” was an inspired puree of white asparagus, a touch of cream, and a flurry of fresh young herbs.  I plan to try this trick at home in a risotto, with fried chicken, and as a sauce, tossed with penne and over-roasted tomatoes.

The study-in-white wasn't the prettiest dish in the place, but it had bold, fresh flavors that we lovers of mushrooms and asparagus won't get again until this time next year.

Asparagus Envy....Eating Seasonally in Vienna

We’ve been in Vienna for a little over 24 hours and already I’ve had three meals with fat, fresh, locally grown white asparagus as the centerpiece.

Europeans take eating seasonally very seriously. They rejoice the day the first white asparagus hit the market, scarf up as many as they can in the ensuing weeks, and mourn when the aproned lady behind the market table shakes her finger and head with the unuttered news: Season is over.

Last year on this site I wrote about white asparagus in Berlin.  In that cutting-edge city the asparagus preparations were surprisingly predictable. Plain, steamed stalks usually sat on a white plate with a bit of butter and some boiled buttered white potatoes on the side.  Delicious, yes. Creative? No way.

But here in Vienna, known for ages as a rather stodgy, tradition-bound city, I’m finding exciting, imaginative preparations that bring out the best in these pristine ingredients…and then some.

My first lunch…barely an hour after my plane landed, was at Marktachterl, a casual eatery on the town square where the famed Karmelitermarkt is held every Saturday morning. (This farmers market is considered one of the best in Austria.)

Marktachterl’s menu promised, simply, “white asparagus with grana.” But our server delivered a dish that was dazzling, Perfectly cooked white stalks, moistened ever-so-slightly with melted butter, topped with paper-thin shavings of Parmesan, a flurry of crunchy finishing salt, and fragile wisps of fresh herbs – tarragon, chervil, basil, each leaf a tender miniature. Each bite was close-my-eyes-and-sigh delicious.

Marktachterl’s owners are dedicated to local ingredients (virtually everything comes from nearby – parmesan, no; but goat cheese, butter, herbs and meats, yes) and to the principles of the Slow Food Movement. More about the charming eatery and the Karmeliter market in a later post.

Lunch the next day was more classical – crème of asparagus soup in a tiny tureen at Mozart Café in Albertina Platz. But even this traditional flour-thickened soup was updated with fresh herbs and hefty chunks of fresh white and green asparagus that were al dente and cut on the diagonal.

But the best performance by a white asparagus thus far was the SpargelRisotto at Skopik & Lohn in Vienna’s 2nd District. The creamy heap of perfectly cooked rice was punctuated with asparagus pieces that seemed to melt into the deliriously rich mass.  A dusting of Parmesan and wispy baby herbs added to the triumph. 

The risotto was served with an entrée of fresh trout, but I asked for a small portion of risotto (sans fish) as an appetizer because, to borrow from Mae West, there’s just too little time and too many great white asparagus to enjoy.