Out on the weekend

On Saturday we drove the half an hour up to Mannheim to visit Walmart. We were hoping to acquire an extra CD player to help Ellis sleep, a fan to help us sleep and possibly some American treat like sweet potatoes which are not normally found in German stores. I was surprised to find that a German Walmart is at the same time very Walmarty and also very German. Just like in America, the place was overwhelming in its size and poor organization. But, it was also very German in its products. For instance, there was a large amount of fresh and smoked fish of very high quality and the opportunity to purchase 25 kinds of olives in bulk. We bought two of the fresh trout for Saturday's dinner, seen in the picture above. We also ate the last of our beans and had our first sliced tomato as an edible garnish. The trout went very nicely with the dry riesling from our recent wine tasting foray. Interestingly, the beans didn't go well with the wine at all. It was an interesting opportunity to experience a good pairing right along with a bad one and I can't explain the difference except to say that a sip of wine following the fish tasted so nice that it seemed reasonable to put them both in your mouth together and a sip of wine after a bite of beans tasted like they hadn't washed the grapes.

Yesterday, I found a big blackberry (real blackberries, not black raspberries) patch in the forest while walking the dog. The number of ripe berries still hasn't peaked, but I went back today and managed to pick two quarts or so while keeping the dog out of trouble. The berries are fat and sweet and I have to question whether I had ever had a properly ripe blackberry before. I used to hear people talk about red wines in terms of having hints of "cocoa, blackberries and oak" (you know, like in "Sideways") and I could never pick up the blackberry in there to save my life. But these berries actually have a flavor that I have experienced in red wine that I had never tasted in a blackberry. At any rate I also harvested the last of our red currants from the garden today as you can see in the picture. These guys are a little bitter and a little sour but somehow still edible. They also have a really "green" flavor, almost a little spicy like a radish sprout.

On my forest excursion to get the blackberries I also found elder flower (also in the picture above) and you know what that means: elderberries. These berries are a long standing tradition in my family going back to my father's great grandparent's farm where they had them all fall. The plain berry is pretty awful tasting, but makes a nice pie and can also be turned into a sauce with the seeds strained out for making elderberry fool. Wine is also a popular elderberry product, but I can't imagine the work that must go into making it-there just isn't that much juice in those little berries.

I have to stop here to give a special nod to Rachel. After we were married, I found a big haul of elderberrries one fall (were talking grocery sacks full). I watched an entire Sunday's worth of NFL football while seperating them from the stems and she froze them all for me. We only had hints about how to make the pie of my childhood, including that it required some additional acid in the form of vinegar or lemon juice, needed tremendous amounts of thickener (~18Tbsp of flour per pie) as the berries totally liquify on heating and that the pie should not be a heaped-up-tall pie, but a more modest level topped affair to assure the right balance of crust to filling. (Here a nod within a nod to my aunt Vi, down from whom this info came to me. Ellis's middle name is after her husband.) We also knew that attempts to reproduce this pie often resulted in liquid messes that overflowed in the oven. Armed with this info, Rachel set out to recreate a reproducible, reliable version of this recipe. In the end, her method resorted to macerating the elderberries, collecting the liquid, cooking it into a syrup and then using that in the pie with the berries and a more modest amount of thickener. The reduction phase makes for a very intense berry flavor without intensifying the slight bitterness of the elderberry seeds (which go into the pie too). So, Bravo to Rachel.

Today, before my foray, I also told Rachel that since I couldn't hunt and fish over here and due to some recent things I had read, I thought I should generalize these hobbies into one hobby I would call "foraging". By this I mean getting better at identifying wild edible plants, fungus, nuts and berries to add to the hunting and fishing pursuits. It seems to me that this is a good way to expand my interest in the outdoors and food and to have a reason to get out in the woods for some exercise, something that I always do better if I have a goal. I am a little bit wimpy when it comes to fungus and I need to find someone to help me learn these and to eat them first, but finding someone to learn from would help in all parts of this pursuit. So today, on my way home I cut across some open farmland that was being held in grass and found a German guy out there picking wild salad greens and smoking a pipe. We talked for a minute and he explained how to eat them and showed me what they looked like (he was picking five distinct plants) and said to pick them small. Then I looked around and realized that probably 10% of the plants in this little field were wild edible greens. So either he is eating weeds, or I have a giant untapped resource on my hands.

easy 53-stop shopping

While we try not to dwell on it too much, Trey and I occasionally talk about things we miss about America. Trey really misses family and friends and opportunities to do his outside hobbies (train the dog, hunt, fish, etc), but doesn't seem to miss anything about the American way of life. Of course I miss my family very much, especially with Ellis here now. But, to my shame, I also find myself really missing the convenience that seems to be so much a top priority in America. Certainly, a lot of things turn out not to be too convenient in America, but people/businesses at least pretend that they're trying to achieve it. Not so much here. Not enough check-out stations open at the grocery store? No problem, just gives us more time to engage in the national German hobby - standing in line (I've honestly never seen a people more willing to queue up).

Trey doesn't seem to be terribly bothered by this, but I think it's particularly a problem when trying to run a household or specifically a kitchen. I feel like I'm slowly getting the hang of shopping over here, but am still frustrated by the short hours kept by all the businesses. And nothing is open on Sundays. Every Saturday is like getting ready for a snow storm because you have to make sure you have whatever you need before all the stores close. What is stocked by the grocery stores is also a little spotty- especially when it comes to meat and produce. The selection and the quality are not consistent. I think most people tend to get these things from the small vendors that set up markets and rotate between the surrounding villages.

There are several such markets around our village that bring in fruits and vegetables, locally made cheese and meat products, and even fresh fish. Sounds pretty cool, right? And sometimes it is. The problem is that they are all very Brigadoon style- pop up once, then gone and who knows when they'll be back. Schedules never seem to be posted because, well, everyone in the village already knows when the markets will be there. There are other quirks, too, for instance our fish seller doesn't come in summer because she can't keep the fish cool enough (they don't even put ice in the drinks, where would she get enough to keep a fish cold?). The fish seller in the neighboring village just takes July and August off. See what I mean about convenience of the consumer just not being an issue?

I finally figured out that a very good produce seller comes to our village on Fridays. And yesterday, I had what was, for me an excellent shopping experience. I actually knew all the words for what I wanted to buy, negotiated tasting and choosing between German and Spanish peaches, and was able to give her the correct change instead of just holding out a fist full of coins because I couldn't understand what amount she said. I was even able to answer her questions about the baby; those I've studied for, though, because everyone always asked the same two questions (age and gender). Ah, small victories.

A Boy in Full

As promised, a fresh look at the boy, with quotes."Look Ma, two chins"
(Man does he look like his papa's baby pics in that one.)

"Mom, mom, get over here and get my diaper back on you freaky hippie."

"So let me get this straight, I am supposed to rub my tummy at the same time wtih the other hand? Do I have another hand?"

"Oh mom, you made my favorite."

"Yes! I do have two hands. Baby power! Babies unite, the man wants us to think we only have one hand and he wants us to waste the fruits of its labor rubbing our heads like sideshow monkeys. He wants to keep the babies down. The time has come for babies to rise up! Rise up I say. Are you with me brother Silas? Pray with me now..."

wow, scotcharoos are popular

First this, then today I found someone had accessed our blog by googling for scotcharoos. Well, more specifically, they googled "scotcharoos alcohol"- what in the world were they looking for? Perhaps there is another kind of scotcharoo with more emphasis on the scotch.

I would post baby pics now, but my captions cannot compete with Trey's.

Frogs, two ways

Yesterday, I gave my French coworker a ride home and he invited me up for a drink and to see his place. This guy is the most interesting of my immediate coworkers and the only one who is married with children. He is married to a woman from one of the French islands near Madagascar. She is ethnically Indian but her family has been in Africa for quite some time. They originally came to work the sugar plantations when the sugar economy was shaken up in the Caribbean by the end of slavery. She met my coworker in Tahiti when their families lived there on civil service contracts as teachers, something that all French civil servants can apply to do on a six year rotation. Because her home island is a French possession she carries a French passport, is a citizen, can move freely back and forth as can her parents.

He has a boy who is about to enter the German school system. They arrived in Heidelberg when he was a little past 3 years old, which must have been perfect timing for his flexible little brain, because his German is qutie good, certainly better than his dad's (with a fluent wife, my labmate hasn't even tried to learn) and getting better all the time with the help of his mother who is a German teacher. Apparently he thinks all of his father's coworkers automatically know German because as soon as I was introduced he talked my ear off. He was in the middle of a game of Uno with his uncle and quietly told me that he was beating his uncle's pants off. After that, I think he gave me a short lecture on the finer points of his strategy. Since his uncle only knows French, I couldn't determine if he was letting him win or not. I may also have promised to come back over for a backyard soccer match next month.

This visit reminded me of a story about this guy's son that illustrates how easy it is for children to pick up a language. Recently, they were driving through a neighboring town with a nice bike shop and needed a new inner tube for a tire. Because my coworker doesn't speak German he was entirely reliant on his 6 year old son to handle the transaction. His son translated all of his dad's questions and the answers back to French and 20 minutes later they had selected the tube they wanted. His son even gave his dad a little lesson. Son to dad in French:

"Dad, you can't call it the "air space" like we do in French. The Germans call it an "inner tube" and they won't understand you, even if you use the German word for "air space"."

My coworker was a little embarrassed about all of this, since he has lived here for several years and picked up very little German. Anyway, at the end of it all, after they paid, the guy who runs the store handed my coworker the reciept and said, "It is no problem to return it if it isn't right." And, he said it in perfect French.

I am also getting to know my other French labmate a little bit since she knows how to make frog egg extract and this is something I have to learn for future projects. So yesterday, I learned how how to give the frog a shot of hormone that forces them to lay a big pile of eggs. Today, I learned to extract the cytoplasm from the cells in a way that keeps it in the proper cell cycle state. It all seemed quite easy watching my labmate do it, but I have been told that it is as hard as making a souffle because every little variable matters and it can all go to hell at the very last minute.

I have to say that I like my two French labmates the best. They are more friendly and much easier to get to know than the Germans. The second one is from Normandy. Yesterday, she told me that she is going home next week to see her parents. She said it in kind of a disappointed way, as though going home isn't really a vacation. I asked her what she is looking forward to and she said, "Oh nothing really." So I said, "So it is really all about the food." She got really embarrassed and embarrassed me back by saying,"Is my belly so obvious?" Anyway, I am still hoping for some cheese from Normandy.

Man, boring times. At some point, I will put up a more detailed post about extractology for the nerds out there. And, tomorrow I promise some baby pics.

Make this my default location

Today we actually have nothing planned to do for the whole day. We have options, but no requirements. It has been a long time since I have had two whole days before me to rest and literally decide my next activity on a minute by minute basis (with Ellis's input, of course). With time in front of me like this, there is always a chance that my head will take a flying leap into the existential pit of despair. Occasionally, it will decide to flap its wings on the way down and level out somewhere near melancholy, but more often it seems relentlously attracted to the bottom as though, today, there might be a different and delicious soup of the day or an old friend there to chat with. And, always, the soup is the same cold stuff as the last time, and the place is empty.

When I got up today, I tried to take stock of my head and see where it was going and if it was limbering up for a jump. What I found was that, more than anytime while living over here, I was very homesick. Not for America in general or for any of the places I called home in the last 30 years but for "up-north". Since I am farther away from this place than ever in my life, I thought writing about it a little might help make me feel a little better and understand why it is that when I am stressed, tired or feeling at the end of my rope, this is the place I am attracted to.

In Michigan dialect, "up-north" encompasses almost anything north of Midland but everyone draws the line a little differently. While I have enjoyed the nothern lower peninsula, to me it really means north of the bridge (the bridge being the Mackinac) connecting the two peninsulas and is best applied to Alger and Marquette counties on the south shore of Lake Superior. Along M-28 is the small town of Munising and the smaller town of Christmas to the west. Christmas is little more than a bar, and several sets of one or two room seasonal rental cabins. In the 70s my parents and grandparents each bought one of these rental cabins as they were sold ala carte by the owner, who had acquired them by trading the afore mentioned bar for them. A ten minute walk from Lake Superior, 50 feet from a small lake feeding Superior, the place was in a pretty wild part of the U.P. but with tremendous human and geoligical history.

When I was a kid, I was little aware of the human history, as most trips were spent fishing, visiting waterfalls and going to Marquette, the biggest town in the area (and home of Northern Michigan University) for my grandmother to visit her favorite junk stores. It was later that I found out about the fishing that Hemingway did in the Fox River which was later immortalized in some of his short stories. Don't be fooled by the "Big Two-Hearted River" references, he actually fished the Fox, but for literary reasons used the more colorful name of the eastern river. Countless groups seeking to canoe the "Hemingway River" have been disappointed to learn later that they had gone to the wrong place. Both places trade heavily on his name and I don't see that it really matters if they had a nice canoe trip.

Other important history, history not of one man who later won a Nobel Prize for his "short, declerative sentenences", but really of the people and the culture, revolves around mining, logging, milling and fishing. Munising began as a town built around a smelting furnace, constructed of local rock, the remains of which sit close to Superior, in what is now Christmas. The local trees were converted to charcoal here for the furnace from which the molten iron was allowed to run onto the beach, into molded depressions in the sand, where it hardened into crude ingots, pig iron. Slag glass still litters the beach and the remains of the original dock are readily evident. The mining, logging and climate attracted Scandanavians and the Cornish to the area, bringing traditions and food with them. Many don't realize that the up-north pastie is more or less a Cornish pastie. This mix of nationalities is also responsible for the unusual accent belonging to the general family of accents found in places like Fargo and northern Wisconsin that results in statments like, "Roe da boot out der to da weed patch and betcha gedda big wallie."

We would always leave to go up at "the butt-crack of dawn" as one of my cousins likes to say. If we left by four in the morning we were at the cabin at noon. We would eat at Gaylord and then do our best to avoid pit stops the rest of the way. The land was immediately and noticably different on the north side of the bridge with exposed geoligical formations that are buried deep in the lower. Then west on U.S. 2 along the north shore of Lake Michigan to Blaney Park, which my dad always mentioned was a famous resort, at one time hosting movie stars. Then north to Seney and west again through Munising to Christmas.

My earliest experiences up here, of course, are lost to the failings of infant memory, but I do remember fishing with my dad on our little lake as early as 4 years old and taking walks with my grandmother's uncle, who joined for some of the trips. Often trips up were planned to coincide with the morel season, blueberry season and the salmon run. As I got older, and we missed going for a few years with the ups and downs of the economy, I began to regard our 500 sq. foot cabin as a luxury. To walk out the door, step into a small rowboat and be the only one on the lake, and a lake full of fish at that, felt a bit like finding the holy grail. Over the years I caught perch and pike in our little lake, not to mention a few salmon and the occasional rainbow. By the time I was old enough to join in trout fishing in the streams, chasing lake trout with lead core line on Superior, grouse hunting and deer camp, our cabin was in disrepair, along with several familial relationships, and we just didn't go anymore. Finally, following my parents divorce, our dillapidated cabin, awaiting the attachment of a front addition for more than 20 years, had to be torn down entirely and now the land sits empty.

It has been suggested to me that I liked this place so much because my somewhat fractious family got along better up there. This is partially true, but it wasn't all blueberries and smoked fish either. Many trips were stormy. The most famous instance occuring when my cousin's husband tried to help my dad fix a flat tire. It turned out that the bumper couldn't support the car on the jack and the bumper ripped free of the car causing my dad to threaten to drive it into the lake. My cousin's poor husband, a naturally calmer and more patient sort and barely an adult himslef, didn't know that my dad was prone to such fits of rage and exaggeration. So as the other adults in the family waited for the storm to blow over, this guy was left to consider whether he could stop my dad from putting the car in the lake or if he might be asked to help, should things take a turn for the worse.

Where the above theory, assigning the fond memories of up north to better family behavior, has some merit is that up north was the one time I ever saw my dad truly relaxed, despite the occasional blow out. Work was distant and he had time to do things with me, things we both really liked, of which there are few besides fishing and hunting. I believe that there is also some truth to the idea that this was the first place I was told was beautiful. And, of course, the place is beautiful.

Mostly though, it does the same thing for me that it did to my dad. It is so remote from the rat race and you do things up there like fishing and hunting, that can fool you for a minute into believing you could live without the rat race and the grocery store and car insurance. Of course, few of us have the skills to do this and the beauty of October is supplanted every year by a harsh and battering winter. But participating in this bit of fantasy makes the relaxation that much greater.

In recent years I have been back a couple of times. After our cabin was brought down, my father and I stayed with my grandparents on the lake for a few days. The perch fishing was excellent and I caught a 16" rainbow by accident on my perch rig. We didn't even have a net in the boat and it was a nice bit of team work that managed to land the fish on very light tackle. The ground that had been under our cabin had a few artifacts of the place including a piece of the Gideon Bible that had been inside since its days as a rental. I would like to say I found a scrap with an appropriate psalm on it, but it was from the table of contents. The old lake trout boat was still there rotting into the ground. Several new homes had sprung up arond the lake and the indian casino was expanding. Munising was nearly identical, but with a big grocery store and the A&W had closed for good. The paper mill still hummed along, two shifts a day.

On a second trip we stayed on another lake and did some salmon fishing in the mouths of the rivers flowing into Superior. This type of fishing was very successful and let me meet a few of the locals as an adult. One older fella, who knew my grandfather, shared with me the details of how to can salmon in mason jars and how to know when it was time to pull your ice fishing shanty in off of the bay for good, information that added to the fantasy that I could leave the rat race and just live up there. He also insisted that I club the salmon to death to make sure they couldn't get away, and he did it for me without being asked on a number of occasions. I suspect that he fished everyday and canned salmon as insurance that he would later be able to eat everyday.

I have also taken Rachel up to the general area. Our little lake with no cabin and the recent building isn't quite what it used to be and we can't stay there anyway, but there are other places to fish and other things to try. We stayed near Shelter Bay to the west and took some friends and had a really lovely time outdoors during the day with big meals at night. I got my boy now too, to teach about the outdoors and teach to fish and hunt if he wants to learn. I want him to have these sorts of memories too, to help him keep going when he moves overseas or takes some big risk in his life. More though, I want him to have a relaxed and available papa everyday regardless of our location or the condition of the car's bumper. Today, when I sat down to write, I Googled "Munising Michigan" and the first search result was a map. When I opened the site a pop up menu offered the option to, "Make this my default location". If it were only so easy.

Just foolin'

We call this the Elvis face. Just out of frame there is a cute girl he is trying to impress: "Hey, Baby."

Here he just finished with a long discourse on the proper selection of trout flies: "The Royal Coachman should be considered a more or less ornamental pattern especially in comparison to its close cousin the Royal Wulff, tied for the pride of the tier, with the exception of applications to the narrowest of midwestern trout streams, where the golden pheasant tail should be tied shorter than standard and the wings made of hair, at which point it is nearly impossible to defend calling it a coachman."


Dad didn't know it, but this is the face he makes when over flowing his diaper in an open air cafe,"Oh dad, I am glad you have a sense of humor, I am, afterall , hilarious."

"GRRRRR"

Internet, we own you one, Part II

After the wine tasting we went to see one of the oldest catherdrals in Germany in Speyer. I think we all underestimated this place from what we read about it. The cathedral was in the older heavy Romanesque style, which isn't as ornate as the later Gothic catherdrals on post cards and jigsaw puzzles.

Inside the cathedral had two unique features. First the stones were an array of colors. In some places they were random and others the were in carefully arranged in patterns. The nave was set with several paintings of bible stories like the ones in the picture. The church crypt is the burial place of several unremarkable Holy Roman Emporers as well.

On Sunday we went to one of our favorite attractions: The gardens at the Schwetzingen Castle. I think every single guest has now visited this with us. In the picture above we have an example of the statuary in the garden. This is Pan, one of Rachel's favorites. The garden also has a lot of birds. Like this peacock.
This is, perhaps, the silliest of the follies in the gardens. It is a replica (built in the late 1700s) of a roman waterway, built to look dilapidated.

Internet, we owe you one, Part I

Well, I think this is our worst drought since the arrival of Ellis. But it was because we were just so busy generating material for the blog.

Our friends, Ben and Elissa, were here for about a week. In addition, to seeing the sites with us, Elissa picked up where Bridget and Orrin left off with enough picture taking to supply the blog for days and weeks to come.

During the week, Ben had a conference in town and this limited our activities somewhat to taking the dog to the forest, eating big dinners, watching the baby and playing Settlers of Catan. Not a bad week.

After Ben's conference we took to the roads to see some sights. On Friday, Rachel joined Ben and Elissa in Heidelberg while I worked. On Saturday the real fun started with a trip to the Pfalz for some wine tasting. We visited a small town called Gimmeldingen for some Riesling and other varieties.

Here we see our little group minus the photographer. The inside of the weinstube was pretty neat and felt somehow authentic. Here we have Ben putting some riesling through the paces.

At the Weinstube we also had a plate of homemade wurst which included liverwurst, blood sausage and a headcheese-like thing with ham in the aspic. I found the blood sausage to be flavorless, the liverwurst was really good and the headcheese-like one was pretty good as long as you had it with some bread to hide the slippery texture.

The wine was pretty good but probably not the best. We tried many whites and a couple of reds. The reds were generally crappy, but we found several whites we liked across a range of qualities and brought home a few bottles.

I apologize to those of you who have already visited and we didn't take you wine tasting. Maybe we will find the best wineries by your next visit and you will get treated to the "best-of".

in lieu of actual news...

Here are some pictures: Trey teaching Ellis the blank stare used by men while watching sport and/or ignoring their wives and girlfriends; Elissa meeting Ellis; and Ellis snoozing with his mom.

Ben and Elissa arrived from Boston yesterday. Unfortunately, bad weather changed their flight plan at the last minute, but they still made it here safe and sound. Ben has work to do as he is here to attend a conference and give his first platform presentation- good luck Ben! So Elissa and I will explore Bammental, eat kabop and possibly watch Pride and Prejudice while working on a baby book for Ellis. Who cares if I just watched P&P? It's only a 6 hour comittment. Totally worth it :) They will be here through the weekend so we're trying to decide on something interesting to do- perhaps venturing down the German wine road and out to Trier, one of Germany's oldest cities. Or possibly to Ludwigsburg. Elissa is researching possibilities even as I type. Trey is a little worried that Ellis is not up for this long of a car trip- foolish of him, really, since I am far more likely to get crabby than the baby and just as unlikely to listen to reason.

It was Christmas in July here this morning, with packages arriving both from my family and our friends Gill and Sara! Mom and Catherine sent us many excellent American snacks and ingredients, including all the ingredients for scotcharoos, though since I am not planning for further surgeries anytime soon, they are not an absolute necessity. Ellis is also now the proud owner of a sculpted changing pad. This is very good, because, while he's obviously a long way from rolling over, his kicking and punching sometimes become directed enough to cause some movement (this is one of these random motion and probability things Trey loves so much). Mom also included some excellent books, her very own copy of Cooking from Quilt Country and a reference on infant massage, complete with oils. Gill and Sara sent us a few toys that have earned the stamp of approval from their own little ones, Daniel and Megan (I wish I had a picture to link to here, because they are real cuties). They also sent a sweet little pair of soft soled shoes with puppy dogs on them- too cute! Thanks everyone.

Ellis is doing fine- insisting that bedtime is no earlier than 11:15, still producing monster amounts of spit up, and just starting to smile while awake. We'll try to provide photographic evidence of that last one soon, still haven't been able to catch it.

more vaccine stuff

Just wanted to reply to a couple of the comments regarding my previous post on vaccination. First thanks to the C/Katherines for the websites. The NNii one was particulalry interesting. I liked that it tried to outline what a proper analysis of the risks of vaccination looks like and also that it did list the effectiveness of various vaccines (not even close to 100%) and the chance of side effects (though I suspect side effects are under-reported). Their point that "the chance of children being harmed by disease is far greater than the chance of being harmed by the vaccine" is the central issue. As my mom pointed out, we are a generation that doesn't really know what the horrors of polio look like. However, since we likely know autistic children, "This might give your kid autism" seems somehow more menacing than "This might mean your kid could contract polio." Clearly this is short-sighted, but it's also a gut reaction. I am not, incidentally, convinced that vaccines trigger autism.

We will be having Ellis vaccinated; I am more wondering about the timing of this vaccination and whether getting 4-5 different vaccines at once is really so wise. Our doctor told us that babies' immune systems are mature by 2 months, so there's no reason to delay the shots. How can that be true? Why then are babies preventing from having honey? And why is breastfeeding recommended to confer immune benefits? Second, it seems that no matter how good your immune system, assaulting it with several different diseases at once is not a recipe for success. This approach, to me, looks like one sheerly for convencience and economic reasons.

Beer hole II

"I would kill everyone in this room for a drop of sweet, tasty beer."
-Homer Simpson

Today we drove north into Hess in an attempt to visit my current favorite brewery, Schmucker. It has become my favorite for four important reasons: 1)They make a variety of nice products, 2) they are one of the medium sized regional breweries popular in our region 3) are available by the case at our drink store and 4)at 0.65 euro/half liter the stuff is cheaper than bottled water.

The brewery is in the heart of Odin's forest, which defines a region not belonging to anyone of the German states, on the edge of which we live. The drive there is beautiful, along tributaries which are fast and hard running in contrast to the slothlike Nekar they join near our village. Fishing clubs indicate trout in residence and close to the confluence with the Nekar is a small fish farm that we will be returning to for fresh trout in coming weeks.

We timed our trip badly, such that the brewery was not running a tour for several hours and that the trout farm wasn't open yet for several more hours either. But, the brewery restaurant was open, allowing me to try the last of the brewery's products that had yet to cross my lips. So all three of us got a table and had a couple of beers.

I have now tried 8 Schmucker beers. The hefe weizen and pilsner are good, but these are beers that Germans expect to be more or less the same no matter who makes them and these were no different. Rachel had a dark wheat beer which usually offers a little more variety brewery to brewery. I like them a little maltier, but Rachel found this one pretty agreeable. I had had their Schwarzbier in a bottle and found it tasty, but somewhat mislabeled, tasting like the standard dark lager, not like an eastern Schwarzbier. My suspicion was confirmed at the brewery when I read that this beer is basically brewed as a dark pilsner. Still, I would drink it again because whether properly named or not, it is quite good.

The three most interesting offerings (and they might be available in the states to those of you intrepid enough to call a distributor directly, but don't expect a similar price tag) are their Doppelbock, Rose' Bock and Cellar Beer. The Doppelbock I tried today and found it to be not as good or dark as the celebrated "Celebrator" that most Americans associate with Dopplebock but a lot easier to drink a half liter of and much better with food. It is most interesting in comparison to their Rose Bock, a style that I had never had. This was a much lighter beer in color, but equally malty and alcholic (8% ABV) in contrast to Bocks or Helles Bocks that are quite a bit weaker. It is also a little hoppier than the doppel making the half liter a little more difficult to drink. Despite the 8% alcohol, neither tasted alcoholic in the least, even the last warm sips where this flavor often comes through.

Finally, my favorite from Schmucker is the Keller (Cellar) Beer. The breweries description claims that this beer is an opportunity to drink beer the way it was in earlier times, unfiltered. Of course, hefe weizen provides the same opportunity all the time, but this one is unique in that cellar bier is more or less an unfiltered pilsner. They claim the yeast proteins create the unique flavor, and it is indeed much more complex than the coca-cola of beers generally known as pils over here. The yeast, and there is quite a bit of it, probably also provides some B vitamins which is a plus.

Ellis enjoyed himself quite a bit and got a lot of attention from the waitresses. He wants me to tell the grandmas that there is a prize for the one who gets him his first stein with sippy cup lid.

"Give me a woman who loves beer and I will conquer the world."
-Kaiser Wilhelm

Apparently the Kaiser never found his woman, but Rachel seems to have found her beer, so considering her many talents, we should be all set.

fresh baby pics!

Today is the end of my first full week at home alone with Ellis- no sister, no Mom- so sad. We managed okay with only very small amounts of hysterical crying from either one of us, some type of dinner on the table every night (with assitance from Trey), and we still have clean clothes to wear. Most of the week was ungodly hot, but it's finally cooling off and we even got some rain. Good thing, too, since the promise of homegrown tomatoes was only going to keep us hauling water for so long. Even though it really felt like summer in Indiana, I hardly even noticed it being the Fourth of July, though reading Catherine's post certainly made me miss it!

Ellis was one month old on Wednesday and had his first doctor's appointment on Thursday. In Germany, they give you a little booklet to keep track of the exams, called Untersuchung or just "the U's". It makes it easy to see different pediatricians and always have the child's medical records accessible, but the U's continue until the kid is 5 years old. Hard to believe most parents can keep track of that little book- I guess Germans really are more organized. The previously noted apparent obsession with the mean continues, however. The back of the booklet contains growth charts on which the doctor marks how close to the average your child is. For the record, Ellis is just over 10 lbs and 21 inches long. This puts him slightly below the mean, but after much discussion, Trey and I have decided we'll go ahead and keep him. We are only luke-warm on the pediatrician, but she speaks decent English and her office is within walking distance...will laziness win out?

At the next doctor's visit, the scheduled vaccinations will begin. Our midwife has suggested we delay these until after Ellis is a year old, but we haven't decided what to do. The research on this is depressingly scanty. Those opposed to vaccination point mostly to antecdotal evidence of children suffering from everything from sleeping problems to learning disabilities following vaccination. Or they try to blame the increase in chronic diseases ranging from autism and asthma to athritis and diabetes on vaccines. It's true that these diseases have been on the rise since vaccinations have become more universal, but it seems they could just as easily be linked to better diagnosis, an environment filled with toxins, the use microwaves in every house, or any number of likely or unlikely factors. On the other hand, vaccines are big business; I certainly don't believe that the interests of pharmaceutical companies are far removed from the more conventional research or the lack thereof. It is true that many of the combination vaccines now in use were not thoroughly tested because the vaccines worked individually. Many of the carriers used in vaccines are pretty questionable, not to mention the trace amounts of random crap from the manufacturing process. Even after the removal of mercury from vaccines was mandated, the doses already manufactured and distributed were used. What the heck else is in there and do I really want it injected into my baby? It's tough, I don't want Ellis hacking his brains out with whooping cough, but I don't want him losing pieces of his brain to heavy metal poisoning. Of course both are extremely unlikely whatever we decide to do. I just want to protect my child and make an informed decision, but it's hard to do that when the information is so bad.

Weltmeister

The world cup is winding down here and both Germany and the place I work are about to burst with excitement. The possibility of Germany-France showdown in the finals has everyone salivating and harrassing each other at work. All of the Germans and French have used the color printer to make flags of their countries and have engineered flag poles out of pipets. Today, one of my more serious northern German colleagues was complaining about the suspension of a German mid-fielder for his behavior following the match with Argentina. My French labmate reached across the table and patted his cheek as one would an injured child which led to a semi-serious slap fight. I told them that if this continued, I would use the color printer to make up yellow and red cards for use around the lab.

I, for one, am very disappointed with the world cup for two reasons that I think really keep American's for embracing soccer. First, the diving and faking of injuries is despicable. Soccer is played on a giant pitch with as many players as an American football game and yet they only have one referee on the field plus two linesmen who run the sidelines only calling out of bounds and offsides. Under these circumstances the ref often doesn't get a good angle and a good actor can make a nudge look like a knockout punch. It is quite apparent in replays.

More importantly, this penalty shoot out to decide games is ridiculous. After these guys have played 90 minutes of regular time plus 30 minutes of over time, a penalty shoot out is about as similar to soccer as chess. Why don't the two coaches just play a game of Uno or badminton to decide it? The problem with the shootout is really in the fact that it is mostly luck if the goal keeper guesses correctly and can block the shot. It only takes a well struck ball 0.3 seconds to go from foot to the back of the net from the 11 meter line. Some here compare this to the NHL using shootouts to decide tie games, but those shootouts give the goalie a chance, look like something that actually happens in hockey and most importantly aren't used in playoff games that determine the champion. In the playoffs in hockey they keep playing until someone wins. A colleague here during a debate about this issue said that if they just kept playing in soccer, they would puke their guts out after a while. I say, for the money make, they outght to be willing to puke their guts out everytime they go out there, not to mention to lay claim to the Weltmeister title.

I also never thought I would wish the germans to be more reserved. Apparently, the last few years is the first since the war where a little bit of harmless nationalism has felt okay here. Formerly, most Germans wouldn't fly the flag outside their house for instance. Now there are flags everywhere, which I think is just fine good times. But beginning with the very first match of the cup, there is general mayhem, even in our little village, after every game. The bars empty into the street and guys with no shirts walk down the middle of the streets shouting. Not to mention the fire crackers and horn honking with each win. In our neighborhood, one doesn't even have to watch the game to know what is happening because it is a hundred degrees here and with the open windows are neighborhood lets us know. Who knows what will happen if the win tonight...or worse yet lose.

We will know in 45 minutes.

Charting baby

I am starting to really notice differences in Ellis that aren't just in the way he looks. Starting a few days ago, I held something inside of his vision near point, the place where you can't focus, and he pushed his head back to gain the distance he needed to see it. He is also following more with his eyes rather than maintaining a single minded distant stare and when he follows he is moving his eyes rather than his whole head.

I am slowly accumulating data on his musical preferences. Last night he seemed to enjoy Iris Dement and Steve Earle. He didn't seem to care for Gillian Welch. His response to Johnny Cash was tepid, but I am not ordering paternity tests yet.

Dinner, you ate it, there is none left

Well I am tired of writing about the sad inequities of the academic community, so I will return to my favorite thing to write about: food.

Tonight we had a very nice dinner that took full advantage of the bounty of the garden behind our house. The main dish was pork chops with a sweet cherry and riesling pan sauce. The cherries are from the magnificent cherry tree that Rachel mentioned in a previous post and we live in riesling country so that was pretty local as well. We also had zucchini fries made by breading zucchini (from the garden) strips with a mixture of corn meal, bread crumbs, parmesan cheese and spices. The breading was the result of not having enough bread crumbs in the pantry but I have to say it was pretty delicious. The final course was kale, also from the garden, with carmelized onions and olive oil.

For those of you that prefer cuisine at home for the pictures:

And, who knows where this post's title comes from?