*This was written a few days ago, but I was busy in the mountains of Austria, and as a semi-nod to the brilliance of the Nolte/Murphy combo, I had to leave the “48 hours” bit in.
** I like it when my absence is justified, though. It’s like mercy killing of time. Kind of. And better still when I’m doing things that I can tell my kids about one day, such as my time in Austria. Because we all know there are things that you can’t tell your kids about; dominatrix basements, that goat-on-chicken action you saw during your fifth grade field trip to the farm, or even real mercy killing. Kittens tied to bottle rockets? That’s just poor form.
Real post begins here: In the past 48 hours, I have gotten chased by cows and chickens (the sheep ran away, probably due to some inherent fear of what a lonely Scotsman is capable of,) pulled Portobello and Porcini mushrooms from their wooded homes, and eaten some serious amounts of meat. Never in my life have I eaten so much food that I took from the earth with my bare hands. A week in Austria brought me more of a physical connection to my food than I have ever experienced, other than that cherry-pilfering incident in Puglia, to which I still thank Charlotte and Jessie for their desire to “muddy up a bit.”
But back to Austria. We ate apricots, plums, apples and pears straight from the trees; blackberries required a bit of bloodshed, but so be it. “Of the earth” is certainly an unspoken battlecry in Austria, where people are fanatical about their local products, and even the smallest cheese producer or sausage-maker deserves a visit, because they are probably dedicated to not just their craft, but also to preserving local traditions.
The irony of all this is, Slow Food probably wouldn’t have the same success here that it has in England, Italy, or even the United States. Austria is as close to a natural, organic country as I have ever seen, which I can say after seeing the food culture of more than 20 countries in my lifetime. Milk producers have formed a consortium, producing “bio-organic” milk, as they call it, and fiberboard cows colored red and white (for the country’s flag) dot the small cities, as testament to the pride the local farmers have in their products.
As I sat down to dinner with a few Austrian and American friends, I marveled at what lay before us. Bread, cheese, yogurt, butter, honey, tomatoes, mushrooms, cured ham, cider, and schnapps, ALL from within 20 kilometers of where I sat. It was ridiculous. I’ve sat at my own table, eating venison or striper, caught by my step-dad, but that was just the meat. This was a revelation. Why can’t everything be like this?
1 comment:
Why, indeed? You always did know how to ask the good questions.
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