Eating One-Eyed Pete...My First Experience Cooking a German Recipe

Let me begin by saying, for those of you who are big softies and animal-lovers like me, One-Eyed Pete is/was not a barnyard pet or furry, adorable critter of any kind. He...or she...was a fish to whom I've given this comical nickname in an effort to humor and cajole myself through an otherwise "iffy" situation.

Maybe I should offer a little background history. I'm an animal- and nature-lover. Whenever Mario and I are going to watch a movie with animals in it (the real kind, not animated), I always jokingly remind him that I only like movies where the animals shake hands, make friends, then merrily skip off into the sunset. To which he normally offers up the typically manly answer of: "It's just nature." In my personal bubble, that sort of "nature" doesn't exist.

There is some hypocrisy involved, in that, I am not a vegetarian. Meat passes my lips two or three times per week, but even there I have my limits. I won't eat anything that involves having some googly eye stare up at me from my plate. At least not until today.



Damfnudel, similar to dumplings.

 Seven months have come and gone since I first arrived in Germany to come live with Mario. Fortunately for both of us, we're healthy eaters and, because of this, have steered clear of standard German fare. Cream-laden sauces and soups, sausage and meaty dishes, and doughie noodle and dumpling type side dishes are abstained from in favor of pan-seered chicken, baked fish, lots of veggies and occasional pasta. We're both fine with this because neither of us wants to be shaped like a dampfnudel.

A few months ago, while in Munich for a short holiday, we picked up two Bavarian cookbooks. As we poured through the pages together, Mario ooh-ed and aah-ed over the recipes exclaiming that this one was "really delicious" and we "had to try that one" while I perused the pictures, pointing out what recipes I wanted to try. Then the books sat in the livingroom for a few months as coffee table books, before being relegated to the book pile alongside a chair.

Last week, I proclaimed that I might like to try a recipe from one of the Bavarian cookbooks to feature in my food blog.  Mario and I leafed through the books together, in search of something healthy, and came upon a fish recipe. I love fish, as does my sweetheart, so this was a win-win situation. The only problem was that the fish pictured in the recipe was whole...as in bones still in, skin still on, and googly eye peering up from the page.

Now, to my credit, in the past few months I've made some progress in this area. One Sunday afternoon, we stopped at at fresh fish stand at a nearby flea market and enjoyed cooked, mixed fresh fish tossed in oil and vinegar. This sounds harmless, I know, until you find yourself staring down at a cooked whole squid in your container, with head and suction cups on legs still intact. My approach as someone new in the country is to "do as the Romans do" when feasible, so I ate the squid...head, little suctions cups, and all...and it was really good.

During the Christmas holiday I was asked by Mario and his family to cook a whole turkey for Christmas Eve dinner, which is the special dinner for the holiday.  Since there'd been no Thanksgiving dinner here and no one really understood, until it was too late, the importance the holiday and its feast preparations held for me, the family felt that having me cook a turkey would be a good way to make up for my missed holiday. I thought this was very gracious and kind, since goose is the normal fare at Christmastime, and none of them had ever had a whole turkey.

I asked Mario where we would buy a whole turkey and he replied that he would order it at the local grocery store's butcher department. Then he explained to me that he would pick it up the morning of Christmas Eve so I could cook it that day. When I inquired as to why we couldn't pick it up earlier, to my horror, he explained that the turkey would still be running around the day before. My imagination immediately conjured up visions of this proud tom turkey chasing the female turkeys around the yard and having a grand old time, completely oblivious to his impending demise. The next day, the turkey arrived. It had been cleaned really well and looked like a great bird except for the feather quills sticking out of parts of the wings. I tried earnestly to pull them out but they wouldn't budge. Not knowing how a German Frau (woman or wife) would handle the situation, I hoped the feather particles would singe off while they baked but the fact of the matter is, when that golden-brown, juicy turkey was set on the platter, it still had the remnants of about one dozen feather quills sticking out of each wing. Oh well. Let me tell you, that was probably the most delicious turkey I've ever had because it was so fresh and the entire family loved it. But the thought of feathers sticking out of the skin still gives me a minor case of the heebie-jeebies.

Note the feather quills sticking out of the edge of the wing.

So, with a couple similar uncomfortable food situations already under my belt, I decided to go ahead and give the Bavarian fish recipe a go. Since Mario does the bulk of the grocery shopping I half-hoped maybe he'd come home with skinless, boneless fish but that didn't end up being the case. He came home and proudly displayed for me the three fresh trout he'd gotten at the fish counter, for the recipe we were going to prepare together. I glanced over at the fish only to have my gaze met by the Three Amigos and their three pairs of googly eyes. "Eck! The eyes are still in!" I exclaimed. My comment went unanswered.

At 1:00pm we both paused from our separate activities and headed into the kitchen to prepare the fish. The recipe was written in German but was an easy-to-make recipe. To prepare myself for the endeavor, I'd translated the instructions on the computer so I could read over them in English and know what I was doing, rather than have to rely on Mario to translate for me.

"Man up!" I muttered to myself, as he unwrapped the fish. Working as a team, he held the fish open (thank goodness the insides were already cleaned out) as I placed the butter, salt and pepper, tarragon, parsley and fresh basil inside the fish. Then we wrapped them in butter-greased foil and baked them in the oven for 25 minutes. When Mario lifted the first fish from the foil, onto a plate, I could swear I saw the mouth slowly open as if the fish was uttering it's last words: "Look what ya did to One-Eyed Pete!" After a quiet and covert shudder, I walked my plate to the table while planning how I was going to eat the fish without getting any skin or bones into my mouth.

As it turns out, no plan was necessary. The fish was so fork-tender the skin peeled back effortlessly and the fish practically fell off the bones, leaving the entire bone structure in one piece when I was done. If the fish had smelled or tasted unpleasant, I don't know if I could have done it. But in my time here I have quickly learned that some concessions are worth making when eating food that is so inexplicably fresh and flavorful.

Today, I ate One-Eyed Pete and cooked my first real German recipe, all in one fell swoop. Both of which turned out to be pretty good experiences, thanks to the man who is patient with my idiosyncrasies, yet loves me enough to push me a little bit outside my comfort zone. Who knows what the next new experience is awaiting me around the corner! The only thing that's certain is it's coming.

Celebrating Karneval in Germany...Prost!

On many levels the German people are a conservative group. When you meet someone new it's expected you will address and communicate with them formally until one or both of you suggest switching to the informal. Depending upon how you met the person, the nature of your relationship and how often you see each other this process can take weeks, months...even years. Upon walking into the grocery store or any other shop it's not likely you'll see someone with a name tag that says "Mary" or "Hannah" on it. Instead the name tag will say "Frau Wilke" (Mrs. Wilke) or something of that nature. And in keeping with the conservatism, topics of a personal, financial and religious nature are treaded upon even more lightly then is expected in the United States.

But when a holiday arrives....and in Germany there seems to be a holiday at least once or twice each month...there is no conservatism when it comes to celebration. While social conventions are big in this country, holidays are big too and the local folk approach them with a gusto and enthusiasm that lead you to feel you will be missing out if you don't, in some way, partake in the festivities.

So it was with this in mind that I met my dear fellow-American friend who's lived here for three years and headed into our small town square for the opening festivities of Karneval. Months before Karneval approached I had heard snippets of information about the event. All I knew was the holiday lasted five days, beginning on a Thursday and ending in the wee hours of the following Tuesday after a long Rosenmontag (Red Monday) celebration. Wedged in between the beginning and end were massive amounts of merriment, costumes, a parade, days off of work, eating, dancing and drinking. And, lest I forget to mention it, Karneval is a church holiday. In my mind, church or religious holidays always signified solemness, going to church and having a family dinner in the solitude of your own home. Not here. The Germans know how to celebrate and lighten up, emphasizing the point that when you work hard you must take time to play, too. Pubs and bars are open extended hours during regular and religious holidays and they are always full. During Karneval the pubs and nightclubs will open at 11am each morning and close the next morning at 7:00.

I'd asked many people, my boyfriend included, about Karneval and what it was. Their explanations helped me form an idea of Karneval but without a point of reference it just sounded like yet another reason to drink and be merry for what's referred to here as an extra-large weekend. Then I looked up Karneval on the internet and discovered it's actually the German version of Mardi Gras. A lightbulb went on over my head and it all made sense. All the pieces came together....costumes, eating large feasts and excessive sweets, dancing, drinking and crazy traditions leading up to a time of cutting back and making sacrifices. For all intents and purposes, Karneval is Germany's Mardi Gras...without the boobs and the beads.

My friend and I arrived in town early. On our way to the Rathause (mayor's buiilding) we walked through the Thursday morning outdoor market where one stand was offering free jello shots. Here, jello is referred to as "wackelpudding" which translates to "wobble pudding". Normally, you eat wackelpudding with vanilla sauce drizzled over the top but this time it was mixed with vodka. "Not for the children" the vendor smiled and warned us. Being that it's Karneval I partook despite the fact that my watch read 10:50am. No matter...the squishy mixture of green jello and vodka slid easily from the small plastic cup onto my anxious taste buds and was delicious. What a great way to start a sunny Karneval morning.

People were beginning to gather in the streets near the Rathaus as we walked away from the market. Most were dressed in costumes; clowns were popular as were tigers, witches and devils. My favorite was that of a little boy who looked to be all of four years old. He stood near his grandmother in his animal costume and marvelled at the men in the tiger costumes as if to say "Wow, I thought my costume was cool but these guys are phenomenal!"

The mayor came out onto the balcony of the Rathaus, ready to commence with the ceremonies. The street was closed off to traffic and the crowd quickly multiplied and spilled out onto the pavement. Small groups in the street sang songs and an older lady in a Charles Dickens era costume walked around pouring shots of schnapps and handing them out to random people. With beers, shots and tiny bottles of liquer in hand the town folks were ready to celebrate.

Many had prepared themselves for the early morning celebrations by eating Amerikaners or Berliners for breakfast. Both delicious treats are a type of cream-filled pastry with powdered sugar on the top. Word has it that when you eat a few of these they coat the stomach and prevent one from becoming drunk. Amerikaners and Berliners, amongst other rich and delicious foods will be consumed enmasse over the next days leading up to the sacrifices and deprivations of Lent. I turned to my friend and asked "Why don't we have anything to drink?" We concurred that we would be better prepared next year.

Soon the mayor addressed the crowd, joking and regaling stories that elicited laughter and response. Dancers came into the street, entertaining everyone with high kicks, twirls and a few acrobats as the people clapped in time with the music. Toward the end, the mayor called out the traditional Karneval "Hallo!" and the crowd answered with an enthusiastic "Hallo!". This was repeated three times before the festivities in the street began to wind down and folks congregated in small groups on the street to share drinks and good times or head to the tents behind the Rathaus for more celebration.

I asked my friend, whose German is far better than mine, why people were headed toward the back and she replied that something was going on behind the Rathaus. That was good enough for me. At this point, I figured it probably involved fun and would require further investigation and research on our parts. Beyond the bratwurst stand and narrow passageway leading into the rear courtyard stood a large tent where you could congregate with others while drinking and dancing. Across from that was a smaller stand selling beer, champagne and a few other things. Champagne is always good for a celebration so we decided to enjoy some of that. And at 1.20 Euros per glass (equal to about $1 per glass of champagne) I decided it was worth having another glass before we left.

Opening celebrations for Karneval will continue in our town today until the food and spirits run out, probably around early evening. By that time, many folks will have boarded the train for the twenty minute ride into Duesseldorf where Karneval celebrations will continue through next Tuesday morning.

With empty champagne glass in hand, I stood basking in the sunshine and watched the locals participating in the festivities. What struck me most was the pure enjoyment seen on the faces of friends laughing together and strangers exchanging pleasantries as they waited in the queue for a bite to eat or another drink. It wasn't so much the food, the drinking or any other specific thing they were there to enjoy. It was the sheer enjoyment of celebrating.

By noon it was time for my friend and I to head out. She had to pick up her daughter from school and I had to think about starting my work day. I walked down the sunny main street of our town smiling to myself and thinking about the events of the morning and my first Karneval experience. The jello shot and champagne waltzed around in my head like a happy sort of Karneval dance, sashaying from one side to the other to the umpah-umpah beat of German schlager songs. I glanced up at the clock tower as we passed the large church: five minutes past noon.

Experiencing Karneval was yet another milestone in my life here in Germany. With each new cultural experience and each new milestone achieved I feel more comfortable, more at home, more a part of this land. They say "when in Rome, do as the Romans do". And I say "when in Germany, go to Karneval". Life was meant to be enjoyed and that is what I witnessed today.