Perils of Central Europe

As Daniel put it, "God, we are in such a meat and potatoes part of the world right now." The culinary claims of Central Europe- currywurst, weinershnitzel, mayonnaise- send most people in either of two directions: a weight loss frenzy, or heart failure. Since Daniel and I had allotted basically five euros a day for museums and a billion gazillion infinity euros a day for food, we started each day with the same attitude, "maybe today should be about eating". Hence, with an extra ten pounds on my butt and with five years less to live, I stand before you: A survivor of Central European food.

Let's begin with the basics. A standard fast food cart looks like this, hailing the typical ketchup and mustard we all know and love. But wait, what is that prominently placed white triangle dispensing? MAYONNAISE. Germans do not even need the ketchup and mustard; they only want mayonnaise. Daniel and I ogled in shock and horror as Berliners stood at high tables drenching their french fries in mayonnaise. Not a dip, a DRENCH. A soak. A drown. A too much.

Don't believe me? Look how much gets dispensed with each pump:



EWW. But actually, not eww. So good. If you're not worried about your waist line or cardiac arrest, I highly recommend throwing out the Heinz for a good splash (I mean, immersion) in mayo's classy egg yolk and vinegar. Mmm.

As if this wasn't enough of a main course already, Berliners typically order their fries with a currywurst. Currywurst is sausage, cut up, covered in ketchup and then flavored with curry. It is death on a plate but it is incredible. European ketchup tends to be sweeter than what we're used to, so the ketchup-curry combo really changes the oily-salty-fried sausage into a tasty, sweet snack. But don't be fooled, as we realized, "that was so good, but now I feel awful".

Once we left Berlin, we though we would be able to give our aching, moaning, groaning bodies a rest. We were wrong. Obviously we couldn't go to Vienna without the classic weinershnitzel. We were excited; as the center of the Hapsburg empire, Viennese cuisine is high class- goose, veal- instead of the fields of pork I had been avoiding for weeks. Unfortunately Vienna seems to be stuck in a porcine fad as well, but finally we found a turkey weinershnitzel for me. It was fried to pefection, with a garlicy batter as light as, say, fish and chips. We plowed in and only when our arteries were crying for help did we come up for air. But as Cental Europe promised, coming up for air means turning from meat to potatos. When you're taking a break and end up treating potato salad like water, you know you're in trouble. This potato salad was amazing though; subtly oniony, not too heavy on the mayonnaise, and the perfect pair with the shnitzel.


If I ever stop burping, I'll admit that Central European food treated me well. I don't regret a single bite, I just never ever want to do it again.

The Adventures of a Sausage Eater

Daniel, my wonderful companion throughout Central Europe, was on a mission. A sausage mission. Well documented throughout every country, here is the Norway chapter. In Bergen, Daniel happened upon a roadside stand proclaiming this fine menu:

Please, notice #7: Reindeer.

At this point, wouldn't you just scream, "Gimme! Gimme!" No, I would not. But Daniel did. He scanned the selection:
And joyfully opted for Reindeer. When in Norway, Right? Look at this expression of glee:


Reindeer sausage comes fully equipped with mustard, friend onions, and cranberry jam. Oh! And free lemonade!


What a happy sausage eater!!

But, readers, beware: This is what happens when you try to eat sausage at 5 am:


Aww.

Bergen, Norway

If I know one thing about breakfast, it's lox. If I know one thing about hungover breakfast, the answer is still lox. But if I know one thing about hungover mornings, the answer is NOT fish market.

Unless, of course, you happen to find yourself in Bergen, Norway. Bergen is a tiny coastal town in Norway known for its beautiful fjords, ungodly sun schedule (all the time, or not at all), and its smoked salmon. I completely forgot that lox doesn't always come from Manhattan (any deli of your preference, I don't want to cause fights). Norwegian smoked salmon is famous- and at its freshest, the Bergen fish market, the salmon really earns its reputation. I guess I should have known... as my mom said when I emailed her,

"I hate to say I told you so but I told you so. It comes from there. Like duh.
Love
Mom"

Here are a few pictures from the spread. There were probably ten stalls, each promoting (in different languages ranging from Italian to German) the same thing: wild smoked salmon, smoked salmon cured with cognac and dill, fresh salmon cuts, and dried whale. We of course tried a bite at each stand, and while most were about the same, the best were the bites with the "Gravlaxsauss"- Norwegian is funny- which is a mustard dill sauce from heaven.



If you wanted more than just samples, there were also seafood plates and sandwiches for cheap Norwegian standards- 4 euro for two bites. Norway is... EXPENSIVE.

The Bergen salmon melts in your mouth. You barely have to chew to enjoy the subtlety of their cognac-cured salmon. And with all the free samples, you're bound to be satisfied. Just don't try the whale; it was disgusting. Like a weird fish steak that didn't really understand what it was trying to be, dried whale sent me gagging to a trash bin. I apologized to the vendor, of course, who gave me an extra bite of salmon to cheer me up and ensure that I would smell like lox for days on end.