cocktail hour

Discerning gourmand Nag on the Lake had two successive food and drinks posts that paired very well together indeed. First, there were the exquisite still-lives of artist Greg Stroube who imagined how the Renaissance masters might depict a Bloody Mary or a Lime Rickey with all its garnish and the hyper-realistic detail of Bellini (also the name of a cocktail, Prosecco and peach nectar) or Vermeer.
These delights of and for the palette are then served up with a selection of sumptuous recipes from the mind of Salvador Dalí from a cookbook being reissued over forty years after its first and only print run. The surreal and bizarre cult cookbook called Les Diners de Gala has over a hundred illustrated recipes—of the strange and decadent variety, like toffee and pinecones or frog pastries. Be sure to indulge more delectable delights on Nag on the Lake.

5x5

bars and bathhouses: in 1983, a gay version of the Monopoly board game was produced

weinkönigin: Trier crowns a Syrian refugee as its Wine Queen

simcity: a new game invites players to redesign NYC’s subway system and test the outcomes of different scenarios

tiki room: the intrepid explorers of Atlas Obscura examine how romancing fake Polynesian culture taught Americans how to relax and be more social

lossless: the Olympics committee has forbidden the creation or sharing animated GIFs of any of its events, via Boing Boing

winzer oder vitis vinifera

Over the weekend, H and I were treated to a tour of an award-winning vineyard and wine-tasting on the escarpment over the River Main outside of Volkach. This chalky cliff-face (Volkacher Mainschleife) winds around the river and produces an ideal micro-climate for the cultivation of grapes. The guide was quite funny and informative, teaching us about how the colour of a grape is not an indicator of the character of the end product and cultivars are only identifiable before they ripen by the shape of their leaves.
At another juncture before climbing further into the vineyards, the guide explained the origin and advantages of the distinctive canteen-shaped bottle of that region, called the Bocksbeutel—which folk-etymology suggests was named for its resemblance in shape to a ram’s (Bock) scrotum (Beutel, sack)—but was probably derived from the term for a book satchel that one could swing over his shoulder for easy transport, such containers also being the approximate size of a book in the hands and amenable to being carried in such a way.
Moreover, the design was easy to balance and would not roll away out of doors. Higher up and among the vines, we learnt about the vagaries of the weather and what impact that had on harvests and found out that the hedgerows used for wind-breaks were always rose-bushes, sometimes centuries old like the grapevines, because like the proverbial canary in a coal-mine, they were the first to show signs of disease and might also be a stop gap for the spread of pests. The local wines we sampled while on our hike were exquisite and a very pleasant reminder that there is a lot to explore close to home as well.

still life with wine and cheese

An interesting meta-analysis from Cornell University of over half a millennium of food and drink in art—without even the need to repair to the food-selfie iteration of the still life—reveals that we’ve always had a penchant for the exotic and indulgent and much more likely to capture that in portraiture—or as a social snapshot, rather than every day fare. With license, certain subtle messages were encoded with the spread that appears on the table and this in depth study is an appetising reflection of how tastes evolved over time and even, through the lens of the Last Supper, how portions have grown. Take a look at the gallery of artfully arranged meals for yourself to better understand what the statistics and trends disclose.

soporific or soda-jerk

From editrice extraordinaire Messy Nessy Chic, we learn that behind the domineering soft-drink empire’s decision to drop cocaine from its recipe in 1903 was only the tip, the last words of a crazed drug-fueled revelry that lent much credence to the Prohibition movement.
Though the treacly, family-friendly international brand might not like to own up to its heritage, the decidedly non-adult-beverage had its origins in an infusion of Bordeaux wine and said opiate: a Corsican chemist concocted a very potent cocktail called Vin Mariani in 1863, whose consummate consumers included Thomas Edison, Queen Victoria, Mark Twain, Jules Verne and Pope Leo XIII. The combination resulted in terribly epic binges—together, mightier than cocaine or alcohol alone, and eventually led to many jurisdictions banned both outright. In response, the tonic of John Pemberton, originally peddled as a coca-wine to the elite of Atlanta, was brought into compliance with the prevailing attitudes and its legacy went on to overshadow its roots.

the drys or thank you for your interest in democracy

Thanks to a serendipitous intersection between two of my favourite blogs, Atlas Obscura and Nag on the Lake, I feel I have been roundly educated on the subject of prohibition. Though the temperance movement was not mandated on a nation-wide level and the thirteen year span in America where the manufacture, sale and distribution of alcohol was prohibited tends to outshine all others, Canada too had a robust anti-drink league and provinces voted individual whether to suffer or permit. Many other jurisdictions repeated this social-experiment, as well.
(It’s sort of like saying “the Civil War”—that time when Oliver Cromwell did battle with V for Vendetta, you mean?) The beacon that the US once was for tee-totalling is somewhat dimmed (depending on whom one asks, I suppose) but the Prohibition Party, whose rolls included the first elected female officer-holder in America, still exists and on a few ballots. Both entries made me think how although most would assume that the outsider party has a narrow scope and spent its clout decades ago (most supporters fled once Prohibition was repealed)—and the candidate prefaces his correspondence with “thanks for noticing the Prohibition Party,” their platform is in reality a broad and progressive one and not just for a pocket-constituency. Though health debate, decent, dialogue are hallmarks—and no one would deny them holding their position—I think that the majority can agree that “Make America Dry Again” is not a campaign slogan that most of us would rally behind.

andorian ale

Thanks to Wikipedia (and it cannot receive enough encomnia in my opinion) I learnt that the producer of Star Trek—unlike inventing the teleporter to forego having to film landing scenes, insisted that the series be shot in colour and thus placing it in the prime-time schedule (because of the expense) of America’s pioneering broadcasting triumvirate so audiences could appreciate the green skin of the Orion slave girls.
Later contributors to the programme considered the Orions a little too risqué and perhaps deviant to afford them continued appearances. The Andorians, although founding members of the Federation of Planets and acclaimed for their libations, were excluded as well. In the expanded Universe, however, they became symbols of sexual liberation and figure large in stark opposition to the predominantly heterosexual milieu and deflector shield ceiling of the canonical storyline.

gone fishin’

Wandering Lake Garda, H and I discovered the great panoply ripe for the picking that the right sort of environment can produce. One of the more notable, vintage agricultural traditions was in the naming: in mavino, like the title of this church in the background of medieval Sirmione, San Pietro in Mavino, like Saint Martin in the Fields or Saint Thomas All Up in your Business was a local signifier of the Latin phrase of in “summas veneas”—Saint Peter Up in the Vineyards.
 The designation undoubtedly had the potential for overuse in such a place but seemed to be applied sparingly, with many settlements founded around this artisanal tradition in the arid hilltops.
 Sirmione, as seen from the lake and also celebrated for its thermal, sulphuric spas acknowledged since before Roman occupation for their curative properties, particularly for ear, nose and throat ailments, is the gateway to the popular theme-park Gardaland and whose front might have the well-curated trappings of some place made-up but is assuredly real as a grown-up and authentic get-away.

5x5

szene: via the Everlasting Blort, a fine gallery of the Swiss rebellious rocker subculture of the 1950s

guano islands act: the happenstance and acquisition of the US minor outlying territories

sibyl’s leaves: the Athenian Oracle, an early nineteenth century precursor to question-and-answer websites—all you wanted to know but were afraid to ask

velvet underdogs: right proper send-up for the much-maligned medium

patrimoine mondial: though Hanseatic Hamburg, Champagne and Burgundy are getting deserved attention, UNESCO’s latest inclusions go much farther 

five-by-five

mondrian: Star Wars minimalism

message in a bottle: a wine glass made for the sand and surf

tempest in a tea cup: tiny box displays the forecast with real precipitation

roy g. biv: a look at the past pseudo-scientific obsession with the Lüscher colour test

mechanical turk: a look into internet propaganda factories of various regimes

five-by-five

drunk and disorderly: a supercharged tonic wine produced by monks in an abbey in Devonshire is a subject of controversy

rubber banding: some absolutely brilliantly illustrated brochures for the British video game awards

proud as a peacock: new species of spiders discovered in Australia

inked: an interactive exhibition allows people to tell a story with magical conducting ink

chatty-cathy: new fashion doll will forward children’s conversations along to corporate HQ and snitch to their parents

appellation

Three of the slain cartoonists in Paris were also famed for designing rather bawdy, irreverent labels for a few select wine-makers in a tradition that covered four decades of vintages.

beaker culture

Looking at this glass without knowing its context and provenance, one might think it’s a beautifully crafted piece of Nordic school Art Déco.

This vessel, one of fourteen known extant pieces, however, is called the Beaker of Saint Hedwig, a Polish duchess from Bavaria with a great reputation for her charitable works, like her niece Elizabeth. It was these glasses, however, commissioned by her husband, Henry Long Beard, Duke of Poland, hundred years ago which really cemented Hedwig’s fame and beatification. After the royal couple had reared twelve children (forming connections to a vast swath of European history) and the Duke had led a life of political intrigue and had some dealings with profiteering during the Crusades (where these fine glasses were almost definitely created, as such craftsmanship was not to be found in medieval Europe), the two turned to a more pious way of existence. Henry accepted most of Hedwig’s quirks and flagellations, but the Duke found it beyond to be too much when his wife gave up wine and only drank water.

Whether it was in fact the bath-water of the nunnery, as some say, the fact remained that the water supply of the day was potentially sickening to drink and wines and spirits were generally much safer and cleaner and so the Duke grew concerned about her health. Presenting her a collection of fine goblets—though the beakers are more vase-shaped and look awkward for actually drinking out of, maybe better suited as a communion cup—the Duke hoped his wife would change her habits but was disappointed when she still poured plain old water into them. Later, however, the Duke saw that when Hedwig raised the glass to her lips to drink, the water was changed miraculously into wine. The pictured glass is from the British Museum but the beakers have been held in the treasuries of abbeys and cathedrals as holy relics for centuries. In fact, I am pretty certain that I passed one more from the set from the same workshop in the very fine museum collection of the Coburg Fortress without realising it. There are quite a few of the Hedwig glasses in Germany, including one in the Cathedral of Minden—and H and I will have to be on the look-out during our travels.

francofollies

Here, this fanciful Italian regional wine-map, is but one of the several outstanding examples from a fantastic collection of the repertoire of French graphic artist Antoine Corbineau. The website features more wonderful designs, which include more maps and promotional materials for shows and conventions, and information about commission and purchase.

you don't say?

I like how the cork on this bottle of prosecco (vino frizzante oder Italienischer Perlwein) bears some visual instructions. I suppose some people might use their teeth, in desperation. This particular vintage hails from Treviso and has the poetic name derived from joyful and amorous march, Marca Gioiosa et Amorosa, of the Trevisan region—a very romantic (but appropriate, as the Venetian exclave lying between Lake Garda and Trieste) way to refer to a territorial claim that usually designated a borderland or buffer-zone between two stronger powers. These tense places that were subject to change ownership often—outposts, were ruled by nobles with the rank marquess or margrave (Markgraf).

what do you want on your tombstone? pepperoni and chease

I know that selecting a heavily processed frozen pizza makes could call ones judgment into question to begin with, but usual foregoing the American shopping experience—at the company-store, and opting to mostly buy groceries on the so-called “economy,” I was a little aghast and amused with the detailed, cradle-to-grave instructions on the packaging. One has to wonder what sort of horrendous lawsuits prompted such directions. Every once and awhile, it's worth it to have the reminder that there are far superior alternatives, readily available and even with the premium of far fewer special ingredients, unless one insists on a taste of home. Naïvely, I used to believe that such fortification with preservatives was a result of some rigourously honest admission and was required to maintain freshness for a long journey overseas, but now I think otherwise—especially considering the re-imported items on the shelves. I refused to believe that German beer, brewed hereabouts, was actually sent to the States, only to be sent back and sold at a discount, denominated in American dollars and with no visible taxes, to someone.
Just before the holidays, I noticed an expanded assortment of champagne, prosecco and Sekt, and I thought it was to supplement demand at first—that is, until I noticed this label (with mandatory warnings) on a effervescent beverage produced and bottled quite literally just around the corner. Lured by a bargain, I am now finding this more than a bit unconscionable. Though I am glad that there's an export-market for goods that seem very local, this indirect route to pass the savings along to you seems rather wasteful—whether or not specially outfitted for the journey.

auslese

Der Spiegel's international desk has a interesting feature on attempts in the Rheingau and surrounding regions to preserve traditional viniculture with robotic aid. Engineers at the University of Geisenheim have developed a rover-prototype that can scale the steep hills at times approaching a right-angle.

For decades, many vintners have chosen to retire their harvest to flat land as the geometry of steeper slopes has proven unprofitable and presents a risk to life and limb. Hillsides are preferable because the grapes here tend to be exposed to more sun and enjoy better drainage, thus preventing rot on the vine. Along the Rhein, however, I know that there are growers who perennially open up grape picking to volunteers of the public and feast them after a hard day's work. With some modification to the rows of vines yet minimal supervision, the robots can accomplish routine tasks like watering and pruning and have even produced their own vintage, taste-tested by vineyards in doubt. Reception is positive and apparently the units are on pre-order, but there's no word if they will be assigned additional duties.

charter house, road house

Our journey homeward took an unexpected but pleasant turn through the Chartreuse Mountains near Grenoble, that lends its name to the monastic order of the Carthusians (Kartause, originally the Order of Saint Bruno of Köln), who are renown for their eponymous liqueur. It would have been short-shrift to visit without adequate time or preparation but we did get a bottle to sample later and are excited about seeing the region properly, next time.

French alchemists working for the royal court invented the secret blend of 130 herbs and plant-derivatives as an elixir of long-life and chartered the monks with producing the tonic and safeguarding the recipe, which is still only known to two living brothers at a time. It did not register to me at first, but we saw this cordial being served as an after-dinner digestif, with its distinctive yellow-to-green pale, also lending its name to the colour chartreuse. We understand that the taste is to cover quite a spectrum as well, ranging from tangy to sweet to spicy. Though the potion may not exactly provide the sough-after immortality, the alchemists and the monks surely must be on to something as chartreuse has the rare characteristic of improving with age and survived a rather colourful odyssey, remaining true to character and countering pretenders, throughout tumultuous ages.

vins de primeur or painting the roses red

Although the concept of organic (Bio) foods has gone through some reversals lately in terms of health, environment impact and efficiency, I was not one to completely discount the label. I did grow a bit leery of the movement, however, when it started encroaching on water and wine—the first was recanted as a gimmick, and as for vinification, I wondered how respectable wine-makers would allow wine-hacks to sully their product, since surely there are standards governing the whole production process as well as tradition. They’d have to call it something else, like Champ-pail or Hwine, if it was too treated, wouldn’t they?
The local grocery store recently, however, had a handbill, a guide for vegetarian and vegan wines (initially I thought it would be about pairing the right wine with a vegetarian meal), that was part informative and part pandering fretful-consumer purists, I thought at first. Apparently producers are allowed a few shortcuts, more prevalent among vintages brought to market within the same calendar year (which is not necessarily a sign of a cheap wine, since only a fraction actually improve with age after that first year), and one such hack involves clarifying the pulp (Must, Most) with natural, albeit animal-derived products, like gelatin (made out of old bones and hooves, like the coating for medicine capsules), fish oil, egg white, and casein (a milk protein).

Some of the selection suitable for vegetarian and vegan diets is identified with an organic (Bio) label, but certainly not all and there was a surprising amount of vintners that are sold internationally and available at many stores, like the French Grand Sud and JP Chenet brands, Australian Badgers’ Creek, Californian Western Cellars and the majority of Italian varieties. Although I don’t subscribe to the strictest forms of vegetarianism, I do respect those who choose to and know it’s hard enough keeping clear of animal products, especially when they are snuck in as part of the refining process. There are more than principles behind this, since people ought to know what’s reliably kosher and be able to choose. In the end, it’s not just about lifestyle, since these bovine- and chemical-understudies, catalysts have unpredictable consequences and probably are cryptic contributors to poor health and over-sensitivity (and the de-sensitivity leading to abusing food and drink as well) and the explosion in allergies.

narrhalla u. prunksitz

I have experienced and even participated in quite a few Karnival or Faschings events over the years, dressing up and watching the parades in Würzburg and Köln. Rhenish traditions in western and northern Germany are distinct from the tenor and scope of the celebrations in Frankish Swabia and Bavaria but the party and pageantry are executed in the same spirit.

Customs in Mainz and the Rhein corridor were articulated in their present form in the nineteenth century, partially in protest to successive French and Prussian foreign rule, and the occupying governments were lampooned (the allegory was pretty transparent) with floats and monarchs of the Carnival court. The Free States did not have the same cause for gripes but have equally elaborate spectacles that invert everyday conventions—Narren are fools, jesters while Walhalla is the memorial honouring important figures of the German Sprachraum, especially in the week leading up to Lent. I don’t quite grasp, however, how this period becomes a Fifth Season. The party mood is not continuous—and I imagine would be hard to sustain, and is broken up by the solemn calendar days of Christmas. It just seems strange that the long celebration goes dormant and into hibernation, crossing the weave and warp of colder weather and other occasions, and then come back to life at the end, as Winter is dissipating. Maybe to wedge another season into the year enables that transition, relieved in restraint, once the long and dark season is showing signs of moving on.