I had presumed that Germans ate poorly – mainly schnitzels, pretzels and kraut – until my first day as assistant manager of the fruit and vegetable department of a supermarket outside Frankfurt.
I suddenly realised how determined they were to find the healthiest, freshest food. It was pointless prepacking anything as the customers would just open it and pick out what they wanted, discarding the rest.
They wanted to know where and how the tomatoes were grown and which varieties of carrots I stocked. Fresh deliveries of local asparagus, chanterelles or damsons prompted cheers. Anything from a Dutch polytunnel was ignored. Even the bakery section insisted on fresh fruit for strudels and streusels.This was no elite delicatessen but a budget hypermarket.
So, why then do we never think of Germany in terms of cuisine? Perhaps because we never really think of Germany at all – except when looking for financial hand-outs.
We only took 135,000 holidays in Germany last year, compared to 1.2 million in Spain. It’s meagre, but is still a huge increase on previous years. Overnight stays in Germany by Irish people are up by 86 per cent in the past decade. Most are weekends in Berlin and Munich, leaving the rest of the country as terra incognito to the Irish.
It makes no sense to have vast areas of wild forests, pristine rivers and soaring mountains so near us and yet ignored – those countless half-timbered villages and romantic palaces just waiting to be discovered. If the climate were terrible, I’d understand, but for five months of the year it is idyllically warm, with shaded trails for cycling and walking in most towns and rural districts. For every clichéd meal of wurst and foamy beer there are excellent venison and trout specialities, and the finest white wines from the valleys of the Rhine and Moselle.
Of course, the great unmentionable is Ireland’s attitude to German people. We are suspicious of their tendency not to use humour as the default mode for all occasions. We mistake it for unfriendliness. We are more comfortable with the superficial insincerity of Americans or Italians. We actually mistrust sincerity and earnestness – hence the calibre of our politicians and state of our finances. Germans cannot help but be somewhat philosophical and high-minded and we, like bullies at the back of the class, can only sneer.
It’s been 20 years since I spent much time in Germany, but I’m determined to return; to rekindle memories of trekking in the Black Forest and mushroom hunting by Lake Constance. I’m curious also about trying the Fairytale Route on which one can visit the ruined castle at Polle from which Cinderella fled, Little Red Ridinghood’s forest and the village of Hoexter where Hansel and Gretel came upon the marzipan house.
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