Post-Ride Fika

I am part Swedish, you know.

Interior Decor at Haus Pierce

Recycling: So Hot Right Now

Walking downtown the other day, I stumbled upon a fun little fair trade shop on Tummelplatz called Weltladen.  Sipping a fresh espresso, compliments of the shop — brilliant! — I took in the visual smorgasbord of handmade objects and found these beauties:  colorful, chic prints on durable stylish bags, made from . . .  (you’ll never guess) . . . fish food bags from Cambodian fish farms.

Fish food is a surprisingly big deal. Global seafood consumption recently hit an all-time high of 110 million tonnes or 243 billion pounds in one year; that’s about 17 kg  or 37 lbs of seafood per person globally. Fish farming (aquaculture) has steadily grown to make up for dwindling wild catches, and now supplies nearly half of global demand. As you can imagine, fish farms require more than water for production, and that, my friends, means fish food . . . and lot’s of it.

The company producing the bags, coll.part., collects discarded fish food bags from Cambodian fish farms and employs women, victims of mine fields, and polio sufferers under fair trade criteria to create these functional works of art. This venture warms my heart: not only does it make use of what would otherwise be a wasteful by-product of aquaculture (Cambodia is among the top ten fastest growing aquaculture producers in the world), but it also promotes fair trade production and supports people and education. Check them out:  coll.part. fair production

With holiday shopping already on the brain (inevitable given the giant Tannenbaum on Hauptplatz and snow slide construction on Karmeliterplatz), I couldn’t help but think what perfect gifts these bags would make. As an added bonus, you can place orders online and forget those nightmarish lines at the mall (and the CO2 emissions required to get there).

That said, if you’re local, I’d recommend a stroll over to Weltladen on Tummelplatz for an inspiring combination of fresh coffee and fair trade goods.

A Cyclist’s Fruit Cobbler

Today poured rain from morning to evening, giving the big window in our living room a stormy hue that made us feel all cozy inside — the kind of cozy that makes me want to bake. This posed two problems:  first, I don’t keep baking essentials on hand, and second, I have no willpower when it comes to baked goods lying about my kitchen.

The solution to my lack of baking materials and willpower emerged as this fresh, simple fruit cobbler — sugarless, butterless, flourless, guiltless.

Now, I know what you’re thinking:  No sugar? No butter? Where’s the fun in that? I admit, this one won’t have the thick syrupy sweet consistency you might expect from a cobbler, but the natural fruit flavors and nuts give this minimalist dish its own rich flavor without packing in calories (at least not bad ones: plenty of antioxidants, protein and Omega-3’s in there). The recipe is also gluten-free, diabetic-friendly, and vegetarian. A warm, yummy dessert for fall, full of delicious healthful goodness without the guilt. And it’s easy as all get-out to make.

Cyclist’s Fruit Cobbler (serves 4 to 6)

4 medium apples

2 medium pears

200 grams frozen berries (~1 1/4 cups)

200 grams almond meal (~1 1/2 cups)

1/2 tsp. ground cardamom

1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/8 tsp. ground cloves

1/8 tsp. ground nutmeg

1/2 c. chopped toasted walnuts

3 TBSP honey

Preheat your oven to 200 C (~375 F).

Peel, core and chop your apples and pears, tossing them into a medium stock pot.

Mix together spices and 1/4 c. almond meal. Toss this with your chopped fruits in the pot.

Dump in a bag of your preferred frozen berries.

Set over medium heat with the lid secured. Simmer for about 10 minutes, or until soft (no oil necessary).

Give the mixture a couple of gentle stirs.

In a baking dish, sprinkle a thin layer of the remaining almond meal across the bottom (this will effectively be your non-stick layer). Pour the warm fruit mixture over the layer of almond meal, and spread it evenly across the dish. Sprinkle another layer of almond meal over the top (about 1/2 cm thick, or use up the rest), making sure to cover the fruit mixture.

Throw the whole shebang into the oven and bake for 10 minutes (if you have a deep baking dish, you may want to bake another 5 minutes; check the almond meal and remove once it starts to brown).

Pull the dish from the oven and spread the chopped walnuts in an even layer over the almond meal, then drizzle the three tablespoons of honey over the top of everything. Throw it back in the oven for 5 to 10 minutes, or until the top layer turns golden brown.

Et voilà!

Scoop into individual bowls and serve warm. The cobbler is good as is, though David enjoyed his with a few spoonfuls of vanilla yogurt over the top. Your choice. Mahlzeit!

Country Riding

Getting to know the locals on my training routes.

Food For Thought

As you can tell by my recent posts, I’ve got food on the brain. Here’s why.

1. Base Training

It’s time to put k’s in the legs. Since this is low-intensity training, it’s also when I reign in the diet to improve my body composition in preparation for the upcoming race season. Generally this equates to eating healthfully and making sure the calories do what they should: build, repair and sustain lean muscle. I’m therefore more mindful these days about meal-planning and creating nutritionally dense dishes.

2. Base Training

Even at low intensity, the increase in training volume sends my appetite through the roof;  so not only am I picky about meal-planning (see #1), but I’m also thinking with my stomach more than usual.

3. It’s Cold

Cold weather gives me the munchies, and this isn’t just a hibernation instinct: it’s physiology. Your hypothalamus helps regulate body temperature and your appetite, which means a high body temperature suppresses appetite, while a cooler core temp stimulates appetite. As you can see, #3 enhances #2.

4. I’m in Austria

Since moving overseas, I’ve had to change how I approach cooking. Austrian markets don’t carry the same items as American ones, so instead of buying ingredients to fit a recipe, I build a menu based on what’s fresh and available at the market that day. Around these parts, if it ain’t in season, it ain’t at the market. That said, this new lifestyle encourages a healthfully diverse and seasonal diet, which I love. I just have to be a little more thoughtful and creative.

So that’s it. Cultural assimilation and hunger are to blame for turning my love of food into an obsessive condition.

My hope is to offer up some tasty and healthful meal ideas for those of you getting started with your own winter training programs. Some recipes are concoctions I’ve whipped up from a run to the farmer’s market, and others are real traditional down-home Austrian dishes. I hope you find them all enjoyable.

Please send me your feedback. I’d love to read about any tweaks to the recipes that worked for you, or if you have other suggestions. Mahlzeit!

Ridin’

..im Grünen Herz Österreichs.

Das gute Leben!

A Good Autumn Soup

One of the many things I love about living in Austria is the cultural importance of home-grown foods, small-scale farming and seasonal cuisine. We expats have no choice but to fall in line, as our markets only offer what’s fresh and local. Not that I mind in the least. I strongly prefer a seasonal, local approach to food, and living where this concept is a given makes my life much easier (and healthier, and more environmentally friendly).

Right now, the markets are brimming with colorful winter squashes in all shapes and sizes. I could not resist. Instead of carving pumpkins for Halloween, I carved up and roasted a butternut squash for a hearty fall soup.

The soup is simple, fresh and seasonal, with both Vegan and Carnivorous options. We enjoyed this particular batch with a fresh loaf of Roggenbrot from the corner bakery and some hot roasted chestnuts from the kiosk across the street. A sound decision, if you ask me.

(Unfortunately, I didn’t get photos of the soup, as we polished it off rather quickly. The next batch will have its own photo shoot, and today’s top model will have to be the Brot.)

Curried Butternut Squash Soup

2 TBSP vegetable oil

2 tsp. curry powder (or one tsp. each ground coriander and cumin, if you don’t have the curry powder)

1 large yellow onion, chopped

3 apples, cored, peeled and chopped

1 butternut squash (squash : apple ratio should be about 2 : 1)

1 carrot, peeled and chopped

4 TBSP apple cider vinegar

2 cups veggie stock (Vegan version) or chicken stock (Carnivore version)

2 skinless, bone-in chicken breasts (Carnivore version)

Fresh cilantro (for garnish)

Salt and pepper (to taste)

First roast your butternut squash. You can boil it or steam it, but the flavor will be much, much better if roasted. To roast, cut the squash in half lengthwise and place flesh-side down in a lightly oiled oven dish. Roast for about 45 min to 1 hour (depends on size) at 375 F (about 200 C).

While the squash is roasting, add oil, onion and curry powder to a large stock pot. Stir to coat the onions in oil and spice, then crank the heat up until it sizzles. Once the onions start sizzling, turn the heat to low and let them simmer for 10 – 15 minutes (stirring occasionally).

To the pot, add apples, carrot, chicken (Carnivore version), vinegar and stock. Turn the heat up to medium and let this simmer with the lid on for about 5 minutes. Add stock and let simmer at least 10 minutes, or until your squash is roasted. Its okay if this simmers for a while, as you want the apples and carrots to soften considerably.

Remove the squash from the oven and scoop out the seeds and stringy bits. Next, spoon out bite-sized chunks of the flesh and add them to the simmering pot of soup.

Add some water (half to a full cup or so; enough to get it back to a soupy consistency) and let it cook down to a thick, stew-like consistency (10-20 minutes). Add salt to taste.

Vegan version:  At this point, you could puree the whole thing for a nice, thick soup, or leave it chunky as more of a stew-style dish.

Carnivore version: Your chicken will fall off the bone as you stir. Not to worry, as this will add some excellent flavor. Just be sure to warn your guests about the bones!

Serve with a garnish of cilantro leaves and cracked black pepper.

For a little variety you could also try pears instead of apples, and maybe a little cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamom in place of curry powder for a different flavor.

Suggested side dishes: a bowl of roasted chestnuts and some fresh whole grain bread to mop up the dregs.

Maltzeit!

When Coffee Isn’t Just Coffee

Two weeks in Paris: it’s enough to make a person want to give up everything and move. Then again, that impulse might speak more to the corollary benefits of being on vacation. I have a feeling I would vastly prefer vacation-Paris to real-life-Paris, so maybe it’s best that Paris remains a utopia of carefree café-au-laits in my mind.

The inaugural morning of our Parisian honeymoon brought the first true autumn chill to the streets in the fourth. We found  a comfortable, sunny cafe and ordered a steaming warm café-au-lait, which we sipped from classic wicker chairs arranged on the cafe terrace like seats in a theater — parallel rows facing the bustling kaleidescope of people filling the cobblestone street.

In Paris, we didn’t drink les cafés; we experienced les cafés. The same went for beer and wine.

When the French plunk down their Euro coins for a libation, they are paying not just for the drink, but for the experience of the drink. This phenomenon, we discovered, is clearly reflected in pricing. A better drink experience — better view, trendier neighborhood or quainter cafe — commands a premium, even if the quality of the drink is the same. After all,  a drink should be savored with all five senses, so ambiance plays an essential role.

The drink experience obviously includes the quality of the drink itself, and the French do not neglect this. Café is served hot, straight from the barista, and creamy-smooth with warm whole milk. Bier is served in glassware appropriate to the type of brew, chilled enough to sweat the glass most aesthetically. A vin blanc is invariably served on ice; reds, appropriately decanted. The waiters — true to the ideal and brutally honest — steer customers away from sub-par wines, regardless of price.

That said, the drink quality does not constitute the whole experience. Au contrair — one can get an excellent café from the  espresso vending machines at the Miniprix (and let me tell you, those are good). The difference is not the quality of the drink, but the quality of the experience.

At a cafe, one can turn a single petit café into hours of relaxed contemplation, long after the bill has been settled. (It’s no wonder Hemingway chose to write The Sun Also Rises among the small round tables of the cafes along Montparnasse.) A single patron will find as much enjoyment from the grand show of people and lights unfolding on the streets as he or she would among company. The weather, trees, people and lights create an ever-changing tableau, characterizing a unique experience for each coffee, each beer, and each wine savored from the comfy wicker chairs of the cafe.

The truth is, this isn’t a phenomenon unique to Paris (though the French do take it quite seriously).

At home here in Graz, the cafes line cobblestone Fußwege and defy the autumn cold with cozy fleece blankets in each chair. One can sip at one’s leisure and not be bothered to move for hours (though in true Viennese fashion, this may also mean one doesn’t see a waiter for hours). Here, a bier is not a bier without an atmosphere bubbling with Gemütlichkeit and furnished with hand-carved built-in pine furniture.

And Italy…  Well, the Italians are known for their dolce vita, of which the experience of a good libation is an integral component. Italy would not be Italy without tiny porcelain cups of thick, sweet espresso or three-hour meals requiring multiple, rotund bottles of chianti.

There is much to be said for savoring life along with one’s drink. The cafes of Europe have known this since the time of the first recorded coffee house (Le Procope in Paris, 1686, for those curious).  For centuries, they’ve invited passersby under their awnings with warm lights and sidewalk menus that seem to say,  Hey, life is interesting enough; who needs anything else? Take a load off and enjoy it for a little while.

I love them all, not just those in Paris, but still, it’s Paris. I won’t soon forget the rows of tables paired with wicker chairs facing the street, or how they invited us young newlyweds to a delicious libation, enjoyed not facing one another, but facing the rest of the world, taking it all in together.

Geschnitzeled!

Life is quiet these days, but a whole heckuvalot happened in the past few weeks. For example, we got married. When we returned home from our honeymoon, the Institute surprised us with a congratulatory dinner at a lovely little Buschenshank here in town. The gesture meant a lot to us, but it did not end with the excellent food and drink. Everyone had pitched in for a wedding gift — an at-home deep fryer!

I feel pretty darn local when I order Schweinsbraten and veggies in dialect from our farmer’s market, but this takes our Austrian lifestyle to a whole new level. Hello, Pommes,  hello Schnitzel!

Speaking of Schnitzel, I whipped up a couple of yummy cutlets geschnitzeled Styrian style and thought I might share the recipe. You don’t even need an at-home deep fryer (although I do intend to try Schnitzel in the fryer and will let you know how it compares).

Styrian Pumpkinseed Schnitzel

4 pork Schnitzel (about a pound). Order this from your butcher. If they don’t know what you mean, ask for ‘butterflied’ pork (usually cut from the pork loin), or very thinly cut pork chops (about 5 or 6). Chicken also works well. Just ask David’s brother, Jeff, the Schnitzel Master. He has geschnitzeled just about everything geschnitzelable.

1 cup plain bread crumbs.

1/2 cup flour.

1 egg.

1 cup pumpkin seeds. Get the good, dark green ones. I like the roasted ones.

2 TBSP butter and 4 TBSP olive oil, or whatever crazy substitute suits your fancy.

Spread flour over one plate and set aside. Whisk the egg into a smooth consistency and set aside. Chop the pumpkin seeds into smaller bits. (These can act like Tiddlywinks and fly all over the kitchen; if this happens, put them in a bag and smash them with something heavy and blunt. You’ll get the desired effect without pumpkin seed schrapnel.) Mix the chopped pumpkin seeds with your bread crumbs and spread on a large plate, set aside.

Now, flatten the Schnitzel. If cut properly, it should already be relatively thin. Pound it with a mallet until it’s about 1/4 inch to 1/8 inch thick. If you don’t have a mallet, the blunt end of a beer bottle works, too.

Coat the flattened pork in the flour mixture, then in the egg, then in the bread crumb and pumpkin seed mixture, covering every bit of the cutlet.

At this point, I’d recommend you prepare all of your cutlets this way and set them aside. Prepare any other side dishes you plan to serve, as the Schnitzel should be served last, straight out of the pan.

When you’re ready, heat the oil and butter over medium heat until it bubbles (but don’t let it brown). Toss your cutlet onto the pan and fry for about 2 min on each side, or until golden brown. Remember, this is a very thin cutlet, so won’t need long to cook through.

Serve with a garnish of fresh parsley and lemon slices. Squeeze the lemon over the Schnitzel before you eat it.

Around here, Schnitzel is usually served with thick fries and a side of lingonberry sauce. If you can swing it, I’d highly recommend it.

Maltzeit!