Who doesn't love a good fairytale? My father was born in Romania and my mother in southern Austria so I grew up with "old world" parents... and those delightfully scary German fairytales. My mother's house was over 500 years old and I treasured the summers I was fortunate enough to spend there. The mountain village had about 50 residents. My aunt (like everyone there) raised almost all their food. Huge garden! She even had a smoking kitchen (die schwartze kuche) where my grandmother smoked everyones sausages and meats. The outhouse was at the bottom of a long stairway, the animals lived under the house to help keep the house warm. There was a stream out back and a village laundry room was created by harnessing the power of the rushing water. People bathed in the mountain stream and my mother said everyone had a designated area where they hid a bar of soap when they went to wash. My aunt cooked on a wood stove that had many drawers to which she kept adding wood chips. She would conjure up the most perfect and fancy tortes! When she served a smorgasbord of meat, cheese and pickled veggies she would curl the butter. I remember thinking as a kid how fancy it was being there, even when in so many other ways it was remote and primitive. The eye eats...so presentation is important, but it doesn't have to be excessive. Even a sprinkle of chives can add that pop....that delights our senses. Thank you! Figs are almost ready to pick!
That sounds like an amazing experience, although very hard work! Thank you for sharing this, so lovely to hear. I hope the figs are wonderful when picked!
A lovely story with some excellent foodiness. Now I want figs baked with cheese...
Thank you, I really enjoyed writing it. I also want figs baked with cheese!
Who doesn't love a good fairytale? My father was born in Romania and my mother in southern Austria so I grew up with "old world" parents... and those delightfully scary German fairytales. My mother's house was over 500 years old and I treasured the summers I was fortunate enough to spend there. The mountain village had about 50 residents. My aunt (like everyone there) raised almost all their food. Huge garden! She even had a smoking kitchen (die schwartze kuche) where my grandmother smoked everyones sausages and meats. The outhouse was at the bottom of a long stairway, the animals lived under the house to help keep the house warm. There was a stream out back and a village laundry room was created by harnessing the power of the rushing water. People bathed in the mountain stream and my mother said everyone had a designated area where they hid a bar of soap when they went to wash. My aunt cooked on a wood stove that had many drawers to which she kept adding wood chips. She would conjure up the most perfect and fancy tortes! When she served a smorgasbord of meat, cheese and pickled veggies she would curl the butter. I remember thinking as a kid how fancy it was being there, even when in so many other ways it was remote and primitive. The eye eats...so presentation is important, but it doesn't have to be excessive. Even a sprinkle of chives can add that pop....that delights our senses. Thank you! Figs are almost ready to pick!
That sounds like an amazing experience, although very hard work! Thank you for sharing this, so lovely to hear. I hope the figs are wonderful when picked!