Hippocampos, Anyone?

Cultural factoids of the day.

Apropos the Neptune Fountain in Bremen, a friend writes: March 30th was Waldemar Otto's 80th birthday and there are exhibitions of his art all over the place.
You may find further information on http.//de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waldemar_Otto
There is a good photo of the fountain working. The bubbling water really does it. I think it is a great and way out piece of art.
About the horses: They are fabulous creatures, so called Hippocampos, that belonged to Neptune's and Poseidon's crew, the upper half horse and the other half either a fish-tail or a sea serpent.
The Bremen citizens were not amused when the fountain was installed in the Nineties. It seemed ominous and gloomy lacking hanseatic optimism.
They should have known when they comissioned him, as Waldemar Otto`s idea of mankind and his world has never been too optimistic.

For another look at a hippocampos: http://www.fotosearch.com/UNC295/u11609607/

That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea.

One of the most compelling sights in the downtown area of Bremen Domsplatz is the Neptune Fountain. Many cities have a Neptune Fountain, but none like Bremen's. The fountain is not classical, and it presents a puzzle. The people and sea life all appear to be half-drowned. Or maybe they have been out of the water too long and are dying without the strength to climb back into the water. I could not determine which was the case. Neptune looked like Darth Vadar driving the hounds of hell. (His horses). And why did Neptune have horses? They looked so ill-behaved. This is the most compelling statuary I've seen for ages. The fountain was designed by Waldemar Otto. In spite of much internet research, I did not find a satisfying explanation for the subjugation and wretchedness of the people and animals.

This was heavy stuff, but good. And this is definitely a fountain unlike any you will find in the U.S.

Grapeshot, who is still ingrigued

The best cooking is home cooking

As a kid, I loved my mom's spaghetti and meatballs. When we lived in Denver, sometimes we ventured into the Italian neighborhood of North Denver and had an Italian meal. In suburban Chicago, we would trek to Highwood for Italian food.

At one point, I joined Smokenders in a major effort to quit smoking. Didn't happen then, but one of the "smokenders" invited the group for a meal at her house. She was Italian. Yowza! I had never eaten food like that. A real revelation. Stuffed shells to die for.

My friend Jim makes the best Oysters Rockefeller in the world, and my friend Karin cooked the best wild mushroom lasagne that you could ever imagine. Toothsome. Perfect.

A few weeks ago when we were in Germany, my nephew Alex and his wife put together a feast that boggled the mind. First of all, we started with huge scallops in a curry sauce. Each scallop was garnished with a sauteed slice of avocado. The sauce was perfect, with the exact right amount of heat. The main course was Wiener Schnitzel. I've eaten that dish all over Germany, the U.S. and Austria. Alex's was by far the best. Tender and perfectly seasoned. Pefectly seasoned.

Amazing how perfect seasoning resonates. The sides were a delicious green salad and a freshly made hot potato salad that one could just keep eating and eating and I did.

Dessert was chocolate mousse. Yum. Garnished with a delicous little kumquat-thingy. Something fruity in a dry husk. They were all over Germany and I have no idea what it actually was. Everything in that meal was so special. The wine was tres potable as well.

I'll put Alex and Palle's meal up there with Laperouse (in the old days) in Paris and Roger Verge's cooking in Mougins. The brunch at the Warwick in Houston. Unlimited raspberries, anyone? Some food just lasts forever in one's head.

Legal Seafood used to serve a mussels appetizer like that. Loads of butter, cheese, garlic and breadcrumbs. They tinkered around with it too much, and cut out the butter and cheese and it became pedestrian and is no longer on the menu. Wow! Was that ever good!

But nothing beats good home cooking. My mom's angelfood cake and strawberry pie, my grandma's pies and chicken and noodles, and fried chicken. Karin makes a mean pie, too. I have made a few in my day. What is it about pie? The best breakfast in the world is a piece of cold fried chicken (or two) and a slice of pie.

So. . . when I go to a potluck or a brunch at someone's house, I always head for the home made stuff. So hie thee into the kitchen and cook up a storm. Someone will always remember how good it tasted.

Oh yeah, and I make the world's best traditional lasagne and some mean potato pancakes. Let's hear it for the home cook!

Grapeshot

Cultural Differences

Just when you think Europe is too Americanized, surprises spring up like a Jack in the Box. First surprise, Air France served free champagne, wine, and even cognac to the herd of us in tourist. I only opted for wine. Of course one isn't supposed to drink on long flights, but put the words "should not" in front of practically anything, and that is what I absolutely want to do.

Wine alone was the compromise. The food was fairly good for tourist class, too. I have already commented on CDG (Charles de Gaulle airport). One thing to be said: the signage is good.

Another difference: half the population is not constantly walking around their ears glommed to cell phones or texting like mad. A pleasant break.

German breakfasts haven't changed. The only sweet stuff is the jam and jelly; otherwise, it's breads, cheese, ham and other meats such as salami and (yum!) liverwurst along with various jams, honeys and spreads. The only spread I didn't see was margarine. The low-fat paranoid-about-every-bite lifestyle doesn't appear to have caught on. The most unfortunate word, "wellness" has. What can I say?

Wine by the glass is cheaper. Flowers at the florists are much cheaper. We saw a McDonald's in a half-timbered building. How is that for bizarre?

East Germany now seems quite similiar to West Germany and the differences are subtle.

I was somehow touched to revisit the scenes from The Shadow Warriors-- the Markt Platz in Goettingen, Handelstrasse and Merkelstrasse, and even the Kuhsiel outside Bremen. We stood in front of the hotel in Duderstadt where Peter wanted to take Emma. We drove by the gray university buildings where I put the "Institute for Advanced Computing." I couldn't find the Italian restaurant around the corner. It must be gone.

So. Things change. Things stay the same. Italian food has taken over, but not to the extent that one can't find local specialties. We ate a real Thuringer Bratwurst in Thuringen. Cooked on a grill on the street. Huge, juicy, on a hard roll with the proper mustard. My God, you couldn't buy that in Boston for love nor money.

When I was lying awake in bed at night due to jet lag difficulties, I plotted my book, trying out this and that in my head.

More anon. Lots of photos.

Grapeshot