1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (81 page)

Once called “Nicholaus Markets,” the fairs began in the 1300s.

In what’s officially become a global phenomenon, the European Christmas shopping season begins on the first Sunday of Advent, often coinciding with our Thanksgiving Day weekend. That’s the day when Christkindlmarkts, or Christ Child markets, open in Germany, Austria, parts of Switzerland, and even in the French province of Alsace. These paroxysms of holiday glitter, gifts, and foods sparkle and tempt shoppers in just about every town until a trumpet sounds at 1 p.m. on December 24.

While Nuremberg’s is the largest and Salzburg’s possibly the most charming, the oldest and one of the most colorful of these markets is in Munich, where the custom originated more than six hundred years ago. Open from mid-morning onward, these markets take on a special magic at night, when their glowing garlands of colored lights mark the way through wintry frost. Open stalls trimmed with green boughs and pine wreaths offer all sorts of gifts: toys, handcrafted housewares, sweaters, mittens, jewelry, wood carvings, and
krippen
, or nativity scene crèches.

A joy for pleasure-seekers of all sorts, Christkindlmarkts are especially enticing to food lovers. Drawn by the aroma of the clove-and cinnamon-scented mulled wine
glühwein
, they discover a dazzling array of
weihnachtsgebäck
or Christmas cookies (see
listing
); wursts and
leberkäse
(see
listing
); candies of nuts and honey, rum, and chocolate; and cherry-and citron-studded marzipan baked in heart and floral shapes (see
listing
).

Not all of the food products are meant to be eaten. In the decorative realm are whole, dried spices wired into small kitchen wreaths or piled into decorated sachets.
Zwetschgen menschen
(prune people) are small figures of men and women formed of wired prunes and nuts, usually signifying two storybook Christmas characters: Krampus, who brings coal to bad children, and Nicolo, who has lovely things for good children. Best to get several of each for good measure.

Where:
In Munich, Nuremberg, Vienna, Salzburg, and almost all towns and cities in Germany, Austria, Alsace, and the German regions of Switzerland.
Further information:
germanfoodguide.com
(search christmas markets);
germanculture.com.ua
(search christkindlmarkt);
nytimes.com
(search the marzipan heart of munich by mimi sheraton).

No one who hasn’t spent at least a week cultivating a serious caffeine high in Vienna can claim true coffee connoisseurship—not just for having sampled the various luscious presentations of the rich, soul-satisfying drink, but also for having experienced the culture of the city’s storied coffeehouses.

Neither the black espresso of Italy nor the sugary, thick brew of the Middle East, Viennese coffee is at once more complex and more mellow, with a caramelized finish and a mocha patina similar to that preferred in Germany, Switzerland, Denmark, and Sweden. Viennese importers pay high prices for the world’s best beans, and the medium-dark roast they favor reveals a host of subtle flavors. By contrast, the very dark roasts known as “French,” “espresso,” or “West Coast” obscure the innate character of the beans, heightening acidity and rendering bean quality less important, which is why professional coffee tasters rely on a uniform degree of roasting that leaves beans a cinnamon-cocoa color.

Coffee first came to Europe through Vienna, a result of the defeat of the Turks by the Poles in 1683. The armies of the victorious Polish king, John Sobieski, who led the Austrian-Hapsburg troops, noticed the Turks brewing up something special while they were camped outside Vienna. Taking a sack of the beans that were left behind when the Turks fled, they brewed them up—and the rest is delectable history.

One of the best examples of Viennese-style coffee is produced by Julius Meinl, a company that began in 1862 as a small shop selling pre-roasted beans, a convenient innovation at the time; previously, green beans had to be roasted at home. These days the company uses Arabica beans grown in the highlands of South America, Ethiopia, India, and New Guinea; roasted medium-dark; and sealed in airtight packages.

To fully understand Viennese coffee drink menus, a grasp of the word
schlagobers
is in order—
schlag
for cream and
ober
meaning over, sometimes adding up to an indulgent topping of whipped cream. Among the most seductive offerings are the
einspanner
(literally, a one-horse coach) and the
fiaker
(a two-horse coach). The
fiaker
comes as a tall, footed glass of coffee with hot milk. The
einspanner
adds a snowfall of whipped cream, offering a titillating contrast of cold and hot. Most sublime, if perhaps not the best idea for breakfast, is a shot of brandy added to the
einspanner.

A
kapuziner
is a small cup of dark coffee with a dollop of whipped cream.
Kaisermelange
includes milk and a beaten egg yolk as a morning-after cure. A
melange
combines espresso, a froth of milk, and a dusting of cinnamon or cocoa, much like a cappuccino. And perhaps the ultimate is the
Wiencaffe
, or
Eiskaffe
, which is hot coffee in a glass with a scoop of
vanilla ice cream and a dome of schlagobers. No harm in adding a splash of rum, Cognac, or coffee liqueur to the concoction.

As for the choice of cafés, Café Hawelka has offered a late-night student scene since 1938; the elegant Café Landtmann has been a mid-morning choice for solid burghers gathering to read newspapers in its elegant, clublike setting since 1873; and the spare Café Central, which appeals most to fans of its Jugendstil décor, has stood the test of time since 1860.

Where:
In Vienna
, Café Hawelka, tel 43/1-5128230,
hawelka.at
; Café Landtmann, tel 43/1-24-100-100,
landtmann.at
; Café Central, tel 43/1-533-37-63,
palaisevents.at/cafecentral
;
in New York
, Café Sabarsky and Café Fledermaus in Neue Galerie,
neuegalerie.org
(click Cafés);
in Chicago
, Julius Meinl Coffee Houses,
northamerica.meinl.com
.
Mail order:
Julius Meinl coffees,
meinl.com
.
Further information:
Neue Cuisine: The Elegant Tastes of Vienna
by Kurt Gutenbrunner (2011).

If the Austro-German term
schlag
doesn’t sound romantic enough, try calling whipped cream by its French name,
crème Chantilly.
Or say it in Italian:
panna montata
, and lots of it, please!

Usually appearing as a cool and creamy grace note atop desserts, whipped cream should be allowed to shine on its own. Why not? Imagine the sublime indulgence of sitting down where no one can see you and spooning your way through a bowlful, the size depending on your capacity and your conscience … the vaguely obscene bliss of slowly savoring its thickly whipped, gently sweet creamy clouds perhaps enhanced with just a virtuous whiff of vanilla and, for textural contrast, dry, nut-filled biscotti.

That most perfect of whipped creams starts with the very heaviest, butterfat-rich sweet cream you can find, sometimes labeled “whipping cream.” Obviously the cream should be as fresh as possible, so search the refrigerator case for a container marked with the latest expiration date. (Quite often in supermarkets, the containers in the front of the case, even if not expired, can be as much as a week older than those loaded later in back, a fact worth remembering with all dairy products, eggs included.)

The trick to whipping is to achieve the largest, airiest peaks before the cream separates and solidifies into butter. To avoid that, the cream and all whipping utensils should be chilled in the refrigerator until quite cold. The cream should also be whipped patiently; the slower the whipping process, the longer the finished cream will hold its air. Using the whisk attachment on a handheld electric mixer, begin on low speed, increasing the speed as the cream foams. Use one of the faster speeds only when the end is in sight. If whipped cream is to be held longer than two hours before being served, it’s a good idea to gradually beat in some confectioners’ sugar; the cornstarch it contains will hold the cream intact and prevent leakage. For sweetening alone, fine granulated sugar is best, as it dissolves quickly in the cold cream.

Vanilla lends a lovely airy note to whipped cream and can be added in the form of liquid extract or as scrapings from a fresh bean. For real subtlety, try vanilla-flavored sugar: Bury a strip of split vanilla bean in a tightly closed jar of granulated or confectioners’ sugar. Just a week or so does the trick, and the perfumed sweetener will be at the ready for months.

So much for the sweet side of whipped cream. Far less known or appreciated in our country is salted whipped cream, a finishing touch much loved in Northern Europe. With salt added just as the creamy foam begins to thicken, the unsweetened cream becomes an opulent garnish to hot and cold soups, including seafood bisques and jade-green soups made with asparagus, spinach, or spring-green peas. Salt and freshly grated horseradish can be folded into whipped cream to adorn poached Rhine salmon, blue-cooked trout (see
listing
), many hot-meat dishes such as boiled beef, and, in Denmark, frozen corned duckling (see
listing
). Gently beaten into lemony and eggy mayonnaises or hollandaise sauces, salted whipped cream transforms these into the classic sauce
mousseline
, cold or hot.

Where:
In Vienna
, Demel, tel 43/1-535-17-17-0,
demel.at
; Café Sacher, tel 43/1-514-560,
sacher.com
.
Further information and recipes:
Joy of Cooking
by Irma S. Rombauer, Marion Rombauer Becker, and Ethan Becker (2006);
joyofbaking.com
(search whipped cream frosting);
saveur.com
(search flavored whipped creams).
See also:
Charlotte Russe
;
Chocolate Cream Pie
;
Coffee in Vienna
;
Krämmerhüse med Flødesküm
;
Pavlova
.

Typically a dessert, it also doubles as a meal.

Credit Hapsburg pastry chefs with the invention of this light, eggy, scrappy pancake redolent of brandy and cinnamon sugar. Generally served as a dessert, it can also be eaten as a simple lunch or supper.

Created to delight an emperor and appeal to his vanity, Kaiser Franz Joseph I’s
schmarren
—“nonsense”—can be realized in either of two ways. The grander version begins as an airy baked soufflé, vanilla-scented and rich with cream. The second and more typical version is made up of many thin crêpes, melded together and flipped to become lacy golden brown on both sides. Just before being served, the soufflé or crêpes are torn into jagged 1-to 2-inch pieces with two forks and tossed in a skillet with hot melted butter, a handful of brandy-soaked dark raisins or currants, and a liberal shower of cinnamon sugar. The sugar melts and caramelizes, coating the golden pieces with a luscious glaze, and chopped walnuts add an optional but toothsome crunch. Each hot, aromatic portion gets a final snowfall of confectioners’ sugar.