Cooking and eating abroad

As many of you, Loyal Readers, may know, I like to cook, and I cook often. I don't hold myself to a high standard of culinary creativity. Recipes found on the internet, in library cookbooks, and "let's take what's in the fridge and throw it in a pot" experiments all make me happy. It's my belief that no recipe, written or created on the fly, can go far wrong if apparently-excessive quantities of butter and/or garlic are used. Due to an irresistible combination of nature and nurture (thanks, Mom!) I like love to cook for other people. And even when I'm only cooking for myself, I find the process soothing. It requires creativity and attention, but not too much mental effort; it allows physical activities rhythmic (slicing and dicing) or vigorous (smashing garlic! punching dough!) and results not only in good smells, but a concrete product, after a relatively short amount of time. For a variety of reasons, then, it's a great way to take a break from academic labor. It's also something that requires a whole raft of adjustments when moving to a new place.


The ingredients are different here. Gone are the shelves full of Goya beans familiar from Bronx supermarkets; gone--alas, alas!--the cheap olive oils and cheeses and fresh-made sausages of my stomping grounds in Little Italy. American and German baking powder are different (who knew?) The dairy cases are cheddar-less, but full of delightful discoveries: Quark with and without herbs, and various sour-cream-like substances which can be put into soup, and a Coburger cheese which is surprisingly like Brie, in addition to Gouda  priced to reflect the fact that Holland is less than a day's drive away. Müsli is food for everyone, not just health food enthusiasts with deep pockets. There is, of course, an abundance of good bread. But it all takes some getting used to, especially when combined with the fact that where one buys things is different. I've yet to find where the nearest grocery store keeps the eggs (they must be somewhere!) but fortunately there's a farmer two streets down who sells them out of his courtyard. The vegetables of the said grocery store are less than thrilling, but there's a thrice-weekly market surrounding Mainz's cathedral. I went there while hungry last Saturday; results pictured above. So, this week, I discovered a recipe for mushroom soup, and made a quite respectable pasta sauce through cooking down several of the fresh tomatoes (with apparently-excessive quantities of garlic, naturally.) And, although it feels strange to have to find new go-to staples, I have already learned how to make my own Rotkohl. It may not be a mastery of German cooking with German ingredients, but it's a start.