- lettuce wraps full of freshwater (tench) fish, fried shallots, coriander, mint, and coconut, paired with a Tom Yam cocktail (which smelled exactly like the soup, but tasted incredible in drink form, and had lemongrass, chile, Kaffir lime leaves, coconut rum, and vodka in it);
- a spicy soup with green onions, 3 types of mushrooms, ginger, red pepper, sea fennel, coriander, lime, lemongrass, and fried garlic paired with a vodka Gibson--vodka and vermouth garnished with a tiny mushroom and cocktail onion (certainly a drink I'd never select for myself, but the intent was to alternate sips of the drink with spoonfuls of soup, so that you could experience the full impact of the soup each time. It absolutely worked, and was something new and very clever.);
- rice noodles with tofu, green curry, cabbage, and fresh dill/coriander/basil, paired with a Thai basil smash (gin, Thai basil, simple syrup, lime juice);
- pork belly with rice, garlicky spinach, and a tamarind sauce, paired with a beer-ginger beer fizz; and
- Thai smoked tapioca with roasted nuts, unsweetened coconut, and tiny sesame donuts, plus a gin and orange blossom cocktail. This was another one where the drink and food were complementary: the dessert itself was not sweet, but the drink was, and so together the flavors were entirely different than they were on their own. Neat.
Just so you know, the cocktails were quite small, and so we did not, in fact, stagger home that night. (I have a feeling, though, that the hilarious, charming, and tiny French lady sitting next to me, did.)
Next up was Hood Food, an event hosted by the same people that threw the Wood Food dinner last fall, and this one was equally as delicious. "Hood" denoting food that comes from the neighborhood, of course, and in this case, they meant metzgete, which is a traditional springtime dinner that occurs after the slaughter of a pig. Anything that can't be preserved for later gets eaten in primarily sausage form, although there are also miscellaneous other bits that appear as well (including knuckle, belly, and whatever else they might throw on the plate). This dinner was actually an homage to the metzgete, and was a little more upscale than a normal one, and I have absolutely zero problem with that (as I'm still working on my taste for offal*). In keeping with the last amazing location, this dinner they held in the 100-year-old Tiefenbrunnen Mill building--one of the coolest complexes in Zürich, in my opinion (and still a functioning mill, from which we buy our white flour, no less). The menu:
- some ridiculously soft and chewy homemade bread with amazing locally-made salted butter;
- a plate of tremendous cooked and cured hams, along with slices of a delicious pork terrine with celery root and verbena, accompanied by a wicked-good salad of wild greens with bergamot dressing and ham croutons (yessssss--ham and croutons, together at last!);
- roasted baby carrots with sorrel pesto and buttermilk sauce;
- then came the pork: bloodwurst with nettle and hay (served in a little cake roughly the size and shape of a Ding Dong), liverwurst with morels and sage, bratwurst with wild garlic (bright green!), and the best, meltiest-but-still-super-crispy pork belly I've ever had, all alongside pickled root vegetables and buckwheat spaetzle;
- a cheese plate (yum) with Swiss pear bread (which is terrible without cheese, but so good with);
- all closed out with a rhubarb crumble with buffalo-milk whipped cream and thyme.
Don't kid yourselves, this was a fine, fine meal, featuring the best wursts-with-innards-in-the-name that I've ever had, by far.** And, to top it all off, we sat next to a super entertaining and friendly young couple (he from Vienna, she from Switzerland) who were fun and funny and were obviously enjoying themselves as much as we were. Sigh. A near-perfect evening.
The building in which we dined.
The menu. On the pig is a map of Zürich, get it? (It's our Hood.)
And now, at long last, I can finally reveal to you our latest adventures: a trip to the U.S. for my sisters' 30th birthday, and one to Budapest and Bratislava for Mike's birthday, both of which were surprises, and both of which, I am happy to say, were carried off without a hitch. Thanks, conspirators! Well done, all of you. (And well done me, for managing to keep my big yapper shut. It's really hard for me, kids.)
The trip home was quick--only about a week, even including travel--and consisted of a few days in Los Alamos for the big birthday and a few in Denver to catch up with Mike's family. I don't generally tend to take photos of people (as you might have noticed...) because I feel that it's fairly intrusive, and since I don't appreciate having a camera stuck in my face, I assume that no one else does, either. And also, because I have zero skill at taking marginally decent photos of people, so there you have it. Due to all of the above, therefore, I don't have any pictures of the moment my sisters strolled into Rancho de Chimayo with their respective husbands and my parents, and saw us sitting there: one frowned, puzzling out our presence in her head, and the other shrieked and then immediately covered her mouth, as though she had committed some terrible social sin. It was hilarious and adorable and utterly satisfying, and was a moment that I will relish forever. (Plus, it's a darn good restaurant, so...icing and cake and all that.)
I do, however, have a photo of the weather that followed us from Denver to Los Alamos, despite the fact that all forecasts even up until the morning that we left called for reasonably seasonable--i.e., warm-ish and sunny--weather in both places.
Yup. It was even snowier in Denver, where there were about 5 inches of the stuff stuck to the streets and sidewalks. Naturally, neither of us packed appropriate jackets, and I certainly didn't have the right shoes. Thankfully, it all melted in about a day, but I feel justified in declaring that meteorology is bunk.
Here, the culinary highlight of any trip to Los Alamos: Chili Works, home of the greatest breakfast burritos ever. These yellow, hand-painted signs always make my heart sing, I kid you not.
And with that sad and shabby treatment of what was actually a grand celebration of my sisters, we're off to something for which I do have the photos to prove that it happened! To Budapest, friends!
As you are probably all aware at this point, Mike and I have started giving each other surprise trips for our respective birthdays, and the birthday-haver is unaware as to the trip's destination until we arrive at the airport or train station to leave. I picked Budapest because it's been a goal of mine for many, many years (as in, since the first time I saw this movie--we were still living in Pennsylvania!), but also a place I thought Mike might enjoy...although the original destination of the trip was Bratislava, due to an enduring, but stupid, joke in a hugely sophomoric, but beloved, movie (also dating back to our Pennsylvania days--it didn't occur to me as I was planning, but this was an entirely movie-motivated trip!). Once I figured out that Bratislava (at least, the historic center, which is nothing like the movie, of course) is tiny, and that Budapest was only 2.5 hours away by train, it was a done deal.
So. We arrived in Budapest in the late afternoon, dropped our stuff at this Art Nouveau beauty of a hotel, on the Pest side of the Danube...
...those tiles! the wrought iron! the decoration! I can't!...
...where they had a bottle of Hungarian bubbly waiting for us for Mike's birthday, and then set off for a little sight-seeing before dinner. Honestly, the architecture in this city is like nothing I've seen before: absolute ruins from the Communist era interspersed with neo-classical and Art Nouveau and baroque gems, in various states of disrepair through perfect restoration. It's stunning and overwhelming, if you're into buildings at all, and boy, am I.
Look at these. Just look.
A close-up of that insanity on the right. Yes, those are ceramic people sticking out all along the sides.
I mean...come on.
Accidentally stumbled upon the Central Kafehaz,*** which is one of the most famous cafes in the city.
Partook of a little afternoon cake 'n coffee. Here, Mike's Esterhazy cake, which was full of walnut buttercream and frosted with vanilla. It was inordinately delicious.
For dinner, we crossed the Danube to Buda, and ate at Carne di Hall. While it obviously drew mainly tourists (yes, like us, I realize), the food was actually quite good, and Mike got to eat something called the "Piglet Trilogy," featuring pork belly, short ribs, and shoulder in a sauce made with the drippings. (Be still, his heart.) We also had a phenomenal starter of house-made cottage cheese mixed with paprika; I had a plate of chicken paprikash pieces with these surreally-good, gnocchi-like, cottage cheese dumplings; and dessert was a huge crepe stuffed with apricot jam, topped with grapefruit ice cream (amazing). And also, there were pictures and paintings and sculptures of pigs with wings everywhere. ( Love. I wanted to bring a few of them home.)
And to top it all off, this was the view on the way to and from the Metro station near the restaurant. Hello, Parliament.
Gratuitous nighttime shot with the Danube.
To finish the evening, we met up at Szimpla Kert, the biggest and most famous of Budapest's ruin pubs, with our friends Candice and Giac (from Zürich) who happened to be in town at the same time. (Complete coincidence, but how fun!) The ruin pubs are these incredible and eclectic bars that have been set up inside various abandoned buildings in the heart of Pest, and they are utterly fantastic. They open in the afternoon, close at dawn, and serve up all sorts of snacks and drinks and actual food and shishas and music and atmosphere like you wouldn't believe, and at Szimpla, there were all sorts of beautiful women walking around selling trays of everything from lime-flavored shots to peeled carrots (...go figure). Crazy and awesome.
Terrible dark shot from my phone, but you can kinda get an idea.
Day two began with a quick and tremendous breakfast from our hotel's absolutely lavish buffet, and then we headed off to a Segway tour, because it's such a terrific way to see and learn a lot about a city in a short amount of time, and also, Segways are awesome. I know, I know, they've become a bit of a tragic joke, but they're seriously fun to ride, they can move pretty darn fast, and you can see over the crowds if you go anywhere packed. What we saw:
A bit of St. Stephen's basilica.
The opera house.
This thing immediately across from the opera house.
St. Stephen's, from the front.
This insane and huge, empty building on Liberty Square, the style of which made me think that, like Sigourney Weaver's apartment on Ghostbusters, this thing had to have been built to serve as a conduit to some sort of sinister spiritual world.
Seriously, look at it.
The Soviet monument in Liberty Square, which is right across from the American embassy. Heh.
Segway Mike! I know he hates wearing any sort of non-motorcycle-related safety gear in public, but at least there's no goofy vest, and that even appears to be a genuine smile.
Art Nouveau near Parliament.
Parliament, most of which is empty, as it's too big for the needs of the sitting government. As well as for my camera.
Lovely views of Matthias Church, in Buda, from Szechenyi Istvan square.
Budapest Castle, which, sadly, we did not have enough time to visit. (This city's huge, kids, and absolutely packed with amazing things to see.)
Heroes' Square, with the (purely symbolic) Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and statues of the founders of Hungary, as well as its notable kings.
The seven chieftains of the Magyars, the leaders of Hungary's original tribes and conquerors of the Carpathian Basin in 895 AD (from which date Hungary celebrates its founding). I think they all look like they'd make amazing pirates (yarrrrrr).
Vajdahunyad Castle, built in 1896 to contain a showcase of Hungary's various historical architectural styles over the ages.
A bit of a goofy premise, to be sure, but still...pretty.
After our tour, we stopped for coffee and apple pie in Pest's theater district, then tromped off to see the Dohany Street Synagogue, which is one of the largest in the world; a gorgeous building; and a powerful monument to the Hungarian Jews who died during the Holocaust.
Dohany Street Synagogue, constructed from 1854 to 1859.
Look at the brick work. Sheesh. (Interesting note: all the stars on the exterior have eight points. )
Incredible interior.
Garden of remembrance and Heroes' Synagogue, built to honor Jewish soldiers from WWI. During WWII, the synagogue buildings and garden space became horribly overcrowded as a result of the creation of the Budapest ghetto. After the war, over two thousand Jews who had frozen or starved to death in the ghetto, or had died at the hands of the Arrow Cross (roughly, the Hungarian equivalent of the Nazis), were buried here--most of whom remain unidentified.
The Emanuel Tree, a Holocaust memorial with the name of a Hungarian Jewish WWII victim inscribed on each leaf. (Behind this is a monument to non-Jewish Hungarians who helped save the lives of thousands during the time.)
As no neighborhood in Budapest would be complete without some Art Nouveau gorgeousness...rows of these are on the building right across the street from the synagogue. So pretty.
This rather amazing synagogue was right around the corner, too. (Sorry for the weird angle, but the street was quite narrow.)
After the synagogue, we had some time to burn before meeting up with Candice and Giac again, so we headed towards Goszdu-Udvar, which is this cool little complex full of pubs, restaurants, and, on Sundays, an arts-n-crafts market. Yessssss. I found a nifty travel bag with a hand-drawn Vespa on it, as well as some delightful blown-glass baubles from a very nice man; in retrospect, I should have bought a few more. (There was also this amazing little fuzzy turquoise bag with a very Muppety monster face on it that I should probably have brought home, just to hang somewhere and pet every now and then. It was fantastic.) Then we met up with our pals for a last glass of wine before they headed back to Zürich, and we headed to dinner at Hungarikum Bistro, a wee little place right around the corner from the parliament building. Another tourist-friendly restaurant, but well, well worth the stop! The host and waitresses were extremely gracious and friendly (as we'd found nearly everyone to be, so far), and the food was otherworldly. They brought us a few bites of garlic-bacon bread with sour cream, chives, and paprika (holy wow) to start; however, while my pea soup and fried perch were genuinely good, Mike was the big winner. He had a tremendous white bean soup with smoked pork, and then the pork loin (woven with bacon, no less!!) with spaetzle and paprika sauce; we finished with the house-made chocolate cake with cherry sauce. Then, as we were getting ready to leave, our nice waitress brought us shots of their homemade pear palinka--Hungary's schnapps--on the house. A lovely, lovely meal.
After dinner, we walked back to our hotel, and along the way, took many, many more gratuitous night shots. Matthias Church and Fisherman's bastion.
Budapest Castle and the Chain Bridge.
And with that, my dears, I'm going to wrap up this first installment of Mike's grand birthday adventure. Please don't worry, I'm not ill: I've just been told once or twice lately that my blog posts are too long to read in one sitting, and as I'm obviously not good at editing myself, and I'd prefer to include more prattle and photos than less, I'm going to dabble in breaking up my posts into shorter pieces. Questions? Concern? Confusion? Let's hope not.
I'll close with something I haven't posted in a good while: MANHOLE COVER.
You're welcome.
See you soon.
*I don't think it's a coincidence that the homonym for "offal" is "awful." Yeah, sure, I've had one or two innards that have been absolutely amazing, but the thought of eating organs and joints is still fairly stomach-churning for me (...if you will...).
**The best wurst. Heh.
***Look, people, Magyar is a really amazing language, most closely related to Finnish in its origins, but utterly unlike anything I've ever seen or tried to speak before. It's not harsh or guttural at all, but neither is it musical or bouncy, and I mean that in the best possible way, as it's quite even-toned and pleasant to listen to. I tried to learn the usual hello-goodbye-please-thank you phrases, but eventually gave up. The words I remember: kösönöm = thank you, jó napot = hello, and--this is where I quit--viszontlátásra = goodbye. Here you see just a few of the actual zillions of various accents over the letters, all of which would take me about a year to try to figure out when I'm typing place names, and so Hungarian friends, please forgive me. In the interest of time, I'm just going to type everything out 'merican style, with no accents whatsoever. Same for Slovak, which I found just slightly more approachable, as it has quite a bit of similarity to Russian, which we studied for a while prior to going to Moscow and St. Petersburg back in 2008. (No Cyrillic alphabet in Slovakia, though! Hooray!!)
