Pretzels

Here I am, sitting outside, eating a pretzel and drinking a glass of wine. Because that's what we do in Germany. At least, that's what I do sometimes.

This pretzel is not hard and crunchy and found in a cellophane bag with a bunch of other mini-pretzels. This pretzel is the size of your hand, made of soft dough, and is dotted with chunks of salt. This pretzel is beautiful.

Gigantor pretzel -- only 2.50! -- at the Speyer Christmas Market

Pretzels can be found fresh at every supermarket. Sure, they sell the small, hard, crunchy kind as well, but who wants those, when you can have one that may be warm and was made only hours or minutes before?

As I drink my Rotwein, my love of pretzels becomes more profound. I liken them to tacos in the Americas: they are a mainstay, a staple, a cure. They soak up bad stomach acids. They cure indigestion. They are inexpensive, available, and culturally significant. Nothing says Germany to me like ein Brezel ("breh-tzl").

Once, when Heinie had Durchfall and could not keep any food in his system, I quietly brought a pretzel into the house. (Not that pretzels are loud, like puppies or kittens, but I knew he would refuse it at first, being an all-knowing German.) I kept it safely stowed on the counter, until his need for it became overwhelming, and he succumbed to listening to an American and eating it.

My previous experience with a young co-worker had proven to me that pretzels might cure any digestive problem. She was nauseous one day and couldn't keep anything in. In a kind of resigned desperation to help (there is immer something wrong with her), and because I had an extra (they're only about 49 cents each), I offered her a pretzel. It turned out to be all she could stomach, and suddenly all she fathomed or craved. Less than an hour later, she was no longer vomiting. It was the pretzel.

I handed over the medicinal pretzel when Heinie had not eaten all day, and had severe stomach cramping. This was when, at last, he was willing to try anything to stop the trips to the bathroom, and the pain.

One authentic German pretzel, bite removed (by human teeth).
Notice the sparse salt placement. It's just enough. 

Perhaps it's the salt that a sick body needs. Perhaps it's the bread that soaks up the virus and carries it out. A pretzel, like a taco, satisfies, but is compact and efficiently fills the void in the stomach, sick or not. It worked on him, and he was able to sleep uninterrupted until the next day.

In Heidelberg, one of my favorite restaurants -- Vetter -- offers a special: two Weisswurst (white sausages), ein Brezel, und ein Bier -- you can choose from any of their own microbrews -- for only 6.90 euros. Fancy mustard comes free to complete the meal. Ach, das ist gut. 

Lecker, the Germans say, or "tasty."

One aviso: soft pretzels aren't very good for more than just a few hours after they are baked. They get soggy wrapped in plastic, and they need to be eaten mostly fresh. Like a taco, they will be soggy if left alone too long.

So when you come to Germany, indulge in a Brezel. You'll feel German, spend only a few cents, and you'll be eating one of man's finest culinary creations (shaped like a ribbon to boot!).

Oh, and pretzels are made a special way. You can't just bake them with regular dough. You have to add water and baking soda somewhere, and the salt. I have placed a link below with a recipe for the curious, but I have not made them myself, yet.

http://www.theoktoberfest.com/HTML/pretzel/

I won't bake pretzels, because once I suggested we make them together in kindergarten. Several Germans told me about the specialized pretzel-making procedures, and I balked. Besides, I can jog a couple of blocks and buy one or more fresh at the store. My policy on homemade pretzels is, why mess with them if you're only gonna mess them up? I'll never be able to bake one as good as any German baker, so I leave it to the experts.

Eat a pretzel.

Living in Germany

Living in Germany. My lifelong dream.

Here I am, almost a whole year into it, finally able to take a moment to start writing about my experiences. This is, of course, because unless one has a rich Onkel or is independently wealthy -- and I certainly do not and am not -- you must work if you move to Germany.

And Germany is a hardworking country. At this moment, it is one of the few countries that has a positive bottom line -- that is, financial growth and little debt. I cannot say the same for my home country. People here are industrious, or fleissig. No deviating from any stereotypes in that regard. You don't see many bums in Germany, at least not where I live. There are a few beggars and lots of what Germans call "gangsters,"  but no old guys sleeping in parks at night.

Ah... Deutschland. The land of Bier, Bratwurst, and Lederhosen, right? Well, those are here, but I've seen very few sets of leather pants or the yodeling, feather-capped Germans around whose loins they should be wrapped. Bratwurst is just one of a jillion kinds of sausage sold in stores or at the butcher shop -- die Metzgerei -- which you can find in every neighborhood.

Bratwurst isn't the preferred sausage of most Germans I've met. They might wrinkle their noses at the thought and mention some other regional or local specialty that has more spice and/or more color. Typically, you just mention the word Wurst, and eyes light up. It doesn't have to be a particular kind, because there are so many, and it is popular in its many forms.

Also common here is die Bäckerei, or bakery. They are open every day of the week, unlike most other retail establishments in Germany, and they can also be found around every corner. Good 'ol Harry's is a block from my house, and they have a great selection of breads, rolls, pastries, and more.

Yes, if I were to pinpoint why Germany is great, I believe I would start with its bread. This is a food and love blog, after all. Or a love of food blog. Or a food of love blog. But bread is a topic for another day. 

Drinking a beer in Heidelberg with my good friend Roxann (USA)

There are many stereotypes of Germans and German life. Yes, nationwide they drink a lot of great beer, but the Germans I know stop after 1 or 2 glasses or 1/2 liters. I find the wine to be more popular. But I have been told that you don't drink wine at a party, because it makes you sleepy. Schnapps then? No. Too strong, except for special occasions. Perhaps I'm not hanging around with enough German alcoholics. Oh, well, this is my life in Germany, and I have to be truthful and factual.

Germany is a beautiful country, with lots to write about and lots to share. I will do my best in the coming weeks, months, years to tell you what I see and what I think I know.

Thanks for reading!