Category: travel (Page 2 of 2)

The Derby, One Year On

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This exact time last year Angela and I were in Louisville, for the Derby, enjoying a great breakfast of grits and bacon and eggs in a little bed and breakfast in Indiana, just over the Kentucky border and about 10 miles from Churchill Downs. We were not alone. In addition to the promised ghosts – which the proprietor told us existed but whom I never saw – we were there with Colby and Kim and David and Nicole and Zack and Susan and Michael, an eccentric and lively crew if ever there was one. (Come to think of it, I know why the ghosts stayed in their closets.)

The weekend began with food and drink and ended the same way; when Angela and I spend time with Colby and Kim that is the order of the day, whether it be Spain or Dallas or Austin. I wagered $50 or so on the horses, failing to add to my holdings, and made a Derby style statement with my knickerbockers.

I am not at the Derby this year, but I am sure I will make another appearance in Louisville in May in another year. And today I will be spending time with Angela, and am certain we will find ourselves in a bar, watching the horses run. (And you read it here first: California Chrome will wear the roses.)

 

 

A Hike in Die Pfalz, Ending With Fine Bowls of Soup

A vista that is etched in my mind.

A vista that is etched in my mind.

Quite often, memories of dishes or tastes from the past fly into my head, and I, with pleasure, recall the beautiful culinary experience that is the source of the memory. These moments of gustatory recollection are usually sparked by thoughts of friends, or places in which I spent time, or streets I walked down on my way to a restaurant.

Yesterday die Pfalz flew into my brain, most specifically a hike in the Vorderpfalz with my friend Holger in the summer of 2012. We had driven from Mannheim, and were on our way to Kaiserslautern, where Holger lives with his wife and sons. We stopped for a hike, because the Vorderpfalz is a beautiful area, and it was a beautiful day: sun out, warm, a relaxed Sunday.

And that culinary memory, that taste? This time it was bowls of soup, which we ate outside on picnic tables on top of the ridge up which we had hiked. It was made in a small kitchen in a wooden cabin, a restaurant of sorts on the ridge, and contained Polish sausage and delicious, smoky broth and potatoes, among other ingredients. Around us, hikers drank beer and wine, and Holger and I looked out over the rolling green.

Bowls of soup after a hike, a good thing to remember. Bowls of soup after a hike, a good memory.

The Peacemaker

New Orleans was treating me well. I had arrived the night before, driving up from South Florida, and my first stop, directly off of the interstate, was Pêche, a new destination – it opened about three months ago – in the Link Restaurant Group, the people behind Herbsaint and several other places. If you are in New Orleans and want some great seafood, take a drive to Magazine Street and sit for a while in Pêche.

Looking for Walker Percy: The courtyard of Creole Gardens, a bed and breakfast in New Orleans.

Looking for Walker Percy: The courtyard of Creole Gardens, a bed and breakfast in New Orleans.

After oysters, smoked tuna dip, raw tuna with fennel, corn and tomato water, and excellent grouper collars, I drove the short distance to my inn, the Creole Gardens, and settled in for the evening, thinking of tomorrow’s meals. A comfortably shabby courtyard, complete with banana trees hanging with bunches of the fruit and a gurgling fountain, and a small but serviceable room, greeted me.

Up early the next morning, breakfast at the inn – grits, two eggs over easy and bacon. My mind wasn’t really on that food, though, because I was thinking about how long it would be before I could have lunch. You see, my plan was all about the po’ boy; specifically, one with the name “Peacemaker” made at Mahony’s, a restaurant I knew of and one of the meals recommended to me by John T. Edge when I asked him “If you could eat three meals in New Orleans now, where would you go?” (Pêche and Brigtsen’s were the other two.) I had read about the Peacemaker a few years ago, and that, along with John’s input, resulted in Mahony’s getting my business in a po’ boy-rich city.

You must go here when in New Orleans.

This sign guides you to one fine  po’ boy.

I made the right decision. Mahony’s is also on Magazine, in a non-descript house with a welcoming front porch that allows for outdoor dining. Wooden flooring, SEC football posters on the walls, condiments stored in six-pack containers. You place your order at the end of the bar, give your name, and wait for the goodness to come out of the kitchen. The Peacemaker is “market price,” owing to the fried oysters that are key to its deliciousness. It comes in large and small, and I ordered a small, knowing dinner was still on the agenda. Pickles and mayo, please, hold the lettuce and tomato. I took a seat, looking forward to the sandwich.

A few minutes later the cook delivered it to me, wrapped in white butcher paper. I opened it and inhaled, then slowly took the first bite. Perfect muffaletta with sesame seeds, slightly warm, the proper level of chewiness. (Mahony’s get its bread from the Leidenheimer Baking Company, which was founded in 1896 by George Leidenheimer, who was from Deidesheim, Germany, a city near where I lived in Germany.) I asked for a side of mayonnaise and settled in for a leisurely meal. The Abita Amber was a good complement.

The Peacemaker, closed view

The Peacemaker, closed view

Not the most visually appealing image, but once this is in your mouth you will be in heaven, guaranteed.

Not the most visually appealing image, but once this is in your mouth you will be in heaven, guaranteed.

What we have: three or four fried oysters, cheddar cheese, and two slices of bacon. And we also have something approaching perfection. Oysters cooked with aplomb, crisp on the outside, warm and soft interiors. The bacon combined with the oysters to create a great taste. Even the small pickles added their element, turning these ingredients into something really special. My only thought other than “This is excellent” was that a better grade of cheese would make this po’ boy even better. The cheese resembled the Boar’s Head variety, and alone had an unremarkable taste. Perhaps a goat cheese, or a sharp cheddar. But, minor quibble aside, I would without hesitation enjoy a regular appointment at Mahony’s.

Oh yes, the name. Peacemaker. You might be wondering about that. I asked a waitress and she told me that she had heard it was because when musicians would stay out late at night playing and doing other things that happen at night they would stop by Mahony’s and take one home as a peace offering to their significant other, thereby keeping the peace, at least as long as that po’ boy lasted.

A sunburned visit to an organic farm

We were spending two days on the beach in Mandvi, a seaside town in Kutch, sleeping in a tent. A tent with air conditioning and a well-appointed bathroom, but a tent nonetheless. I was nursing a sunburned face, the result of a Jeep drive through a game reserve in search of the Indian Wild Ass, a large equine that can gallop at speeds approaching 80 kilometers an hour. (We saw several small groups of the ass, along with some cranes who were late flying back to Siberia, flamingoes and a few wild dogs.) I had no après-sun cream, so had resorted to slathering my red, dry skin with hand lotion.

Over coffee on the tent’s front porch I read about an organic farm not far from Mandvi, about 7 kilometers, and we decided to ask our driver, Suraj, to take us there that afternoon. I wanted to go because I am interested in farming, especially organic farming, and because I have not given up on the idea of operating a restaurant with its own large garden/small farm. So whenever I have the opportunity to see a farming operation I try to take advantage of it and walk through the fields and talk to the farmers.

The farm is called Nu Tech, and is part of World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. After asking for directions several times, we turned off of the narrow road and found a Hindu temple on our left, and directly beyond that a farmhouse and fields. We parked the car and walked toward a man standing near the farm building, and he in turn called for his son to take us on a tour of the spread.

The son, who is 18 and studying mechanical engineering at university, told us he is the seventh generation of his family to work on the farm; his father is the manager of Nu Tech. When he and his two brothers finish their educations  they will work on the farm, he said. Plus, a new tractor had just arrived, and they are excited about getting on it.

We toured the farm, which has a herd of cows that supply milk and manure (which is converted to fertilizer). There are two bulls and 25 or so cows. We walked down a few trails, alongside fields of castor and tomatoes and squash. A large section of Nu Tech is devoted to date palms. As we neared the end of the tour we came across rows of aloe vera. Aloe vera, perfect for sunburned skin. We walked near a plant and removed a healthy stalk from it. Relief was in my hands.

As we neared the farmhouse again we noticed a group of 10 or so people on their haunches harvesting grass. Our guide told us it was for the cows and left us, walking over to the harvesters. A few minutes later he returned, two young women in tow. Meghan and Elise, it turns out, were volunteer workers on the farm, which they had located through Wwoof. “Look, there’s a white person,” Megan said as she approached us, indicative, I guess, of the area, which is off the main tourist track. They were planning to stay on the farm for five weeks, and were into their third. They looked happy, dirty hands and all.

We needed to get back to the tent, as cocktail hour was approaching. And I had big plans for my aloe vera stalk.

Addendum: Angela and I met Megan and Elise for dinner in Ahmedabad several weeks after our visit to the farm, and over mutton and chicken and kulcha they told us that though the work at Nu Tech was exhausting and more difficult than anything they had ever done they were happy they had worked the land. They said they had learned a lot. They were leaving the next day for Germany, where Megan is going to work as an au pair for a year. We hope to see them again.

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