~ reflections approaching a signpost birthday...

one of the most important things which has smoothed my way through life—aside from having inherited my father's teeth and my mother's

liver—

is that while frequently in the company of those who need to

be Right, my need has been rather to be Heard...



photo: self-portrait—Auf der Brücke, KZ Dachau

Greet the Grape ~ Neuburger

...there are many unique autochthonous grape varieties growing in Austria, some several of which produce memorably flavorful wines. And among these varieties, many turn out to be spontaneous crossings of two previously established types—and certainly Mr Roter Veltliner wasn’t always all too concerned about whom he woke up next to in the morning…

Neuburger—literally, the “new citizen”—is one of these extraordinary products of ampelographic promiscuity—Roter Veltliner mating with Señora Sylvaner (as ‘posed to Zierfandler, which is what that old goat Roter did with Madame Traminer…)

legend has it that a floating bundle of grape-cuttings was fished out of the Danube some hundred-plus years ago, planted out of curiosity, and turned out to produce a hardy vine that needed so little moisture that, as Josef Högl puts it, “sometimes the dew is enough.”

he holds his liquor well, does this son of the river—Karl Lagler in Spitz, among others, bottles a Neuburger that does not lack for agility at 14% alcohol and even a touch more… Nikolaihof picks it earlier, gets it into the bottle a little lighter with a handsomely polished texture—quite a lovely wine.

once upon a time, Schildknecht and I were entertained there by the eternally gracious Christine Saahs, where we tasted all manner of wondrous Rieslings and GVs, both ancient and youthful. And we were invited to take any bottles from our tasting down to dinner, which we did. It was springtime, and so Spargelzeit, the asparagus season so beloved in Austria and Germany. And at the end of our dinner, surveying the wreckage of a groaning board, the mighty Rieslings and Grüne Veltliner—the Steiner Hund, the Im Weingebirge—stood yet half-full upon the table—but the Neuburger bottle was empty…

one thing that Wachauer Neub is not, however, is particularly aromatic. Mainly about texture and tongue—

elsewhere the wines turn out lighter and spicier, as proven by Karl Alphart, in the Thermenregion south of Vienna. His Neuburger “Hausberg”—out of deep brown soils with a bit of limestone—not only comes in at a modest 12.5%, but also shows aromatix that neither mom nor dad could’ve called their own. Lightly spiced and elegantly tropical, Hausberg finishes with a wave rather than a wallop.

Foto: © ÖWM/ Faber

while Thomas Mann was having a difficult evening, James was enjoying himself in the morning—...

————Zitat des Tages

——————Thomas Mann, im Tagebuch am 27.11.36
hinsichtlich einer Rundfunksendung der Venusbergmusik aus Tannhäuser:

"Die Romantik ist eine unsaubere Welt. Ich will nicht mehr viel davon wissen."

~

a memorable bit of Outdoor Beethoven—

having recently come back from a short week in Berlin, I got into a little discussion about Beethoven and other symphonists—along with the great conductors—on one of the wine boards.
Something that's worth recycling:

Berlin, Germany—9 November 2000

the country had seen in prior weeks an ugly spate of Turk-beatings and gay-bashings—a nasty trend toward skinhead violence. So the city of Berlin laid-on an official demonstration against Facism.

in the early dark I found myself among 200,000 other individuals gathered in Boulevard Unter den Linden, clear and cool.

Paul Spiegel, president of the Central Jewish Council, delivered a stirring address—blew a lot of lazy people's shit away, actually—
in memory of the Kristallnacht Pogrom of 9 November 1938.
Dr. Spiegel went on to point out—and people did not stop talking about this for a good while—that if one were truly opposed to violence against minorities, whether distinguished by colour, nation, sexuality or religious heritage, it became incumbent upon the individual to speak up and object whenever—at the dinner table or in the bar—jokes or stories were told making fun of this or that group, because in these seemingly innocent anecdotes lay the potential seeds of violence and murder.

nearly a quarter of a million people shoulder-to-shoulder while a great orator laid it on real thick...

and when the shouting died down at the end of Spiegel's address, there, on the bandstand in front of the Brandenburg Gate—
the Stadtskapelle Berlin, Daniel Barenboim on the podium.
—the four strokes of doom that open Beethoven's middle symphony.
this, ladies and gentlemen, was electric.
and in the finale, the excitement grew to nearly overwhelming.
Whoever coined the phraselet "to beat the band" must've had Barenboim in mind...

a quick word from across the water ~

I see some folks in the course of my travels who ask me why Austrian wines are comparatively expensive, and I tell them that most of the cheap stuff is actually disposed-of either in the village, or beyond that border most immediately to the west. Thanks to contributions from two Facebook friends, I have an example to show:

Falstaff Mario Scheuermann berichtet, wie peinlich österreichische Weine im deutschen Diskonter angepriesen werden. Ein Zweigelt, angeblich Reserve mit klingenden Beinamen wie "Swinging Mountain", "Pride auf Austria" und "really red". Ah geh! Um 1,49 Euro.

according to Falstaff magazine, (Hamburg-based) wine-critic Mario Scheuermann reports, how embarrassingly Austrian wines are promoted by German discount-stores (say, like Target or Wal-Mart). For 1,49€ (a little over two dollars) one can buy a Zweigelt—supposedly "Reserve"—with a sonorous (English language) nom-de-guerre like: Swinging Mountain, Pride of Austria or really red—

...ah gitaway!!!

winely reflections from boa-constrictor brunch ~

...this is of course none other than the famous illustration from Antoine Marie Jean-Baptiste Roger de Saint-Exupéry’s great novel, Le Petit Prince, which depicts un serpent boa, qui avalit un fauve—I beg permission for fair use—

and not hard to figure out, boa-brunch is when you cannot eat a thing for the rest of the day, and for me yesterday it was dim sum that done the deed.

but was interested to note, that along with the stuffed eggplant, the shu-mai, the crystal shrimp dumplings, the sesame-fried wontons—the better companion was not the grüner veltliner 08 Höhlgraben from Gerald Malat—but rather a riesling Smaragd—Josef Högl Vision 06, left over from visiting Tom McKnew and Dean Gold and Tony Quinn in DC on Wednesday.

—imagine that—we all know grüner is best with everything, and high-octane riesling Smaragd from ripe vintages proves too often problematic in the dining department—but on this occasion I was amazed at how, though the GV cleaned up quite nicely after each mouthfull, this big middle-linebacker of a riesling had the knack to fit and insinuate the corners and billows of its sweet, savoury and tart flavours into those of what for suburban NJ was really pretty respectable dim sum.

...depicted below, also © M de St.-Exupéry his heirs and assigns, what the serpent boa looks like (and feels like) after said brunch...