Magnificent Marzipan

By Sharon Hudgins
Photos by the author

I’ve been in love marzipan ever since I first tasted it as a child. Back then, marzipan candy was a rare and expensive treat, often difficult to find in the United States. But when I later moved to Europe, I discovered a whole world of marzipan, enough to nourish my lifelong love affair with this seductive sweet.

I’ll admit it: I’ve never met a marzipan I didn’t like.

Marzipan is nothing more than a smooth paste of finely ground blanched sweet almonds mixed with sugar. Other ingredients are sometimes added, too, such as water, egg whites, sugar syrup, honey, almond extract, a small amount of bitter almonds, rosewater, orange blossom water and food colorings. But that description doesn’t do justice to the tantalizing taste of this tempting treat, nor to the many ways in which marzipan is used today by professional confectioners and home cooks.

On the grocery shelf, the difference between “almond paste” and “marzipan” is mainly the ratio of sugar to almonds, with marzipan containing more sugar. That ratio varies, depending on the individual producers and the various countries where this confection is made, some of which have laws regulating the proportion of each ingredient. The finest German marzipans contain two parts (or more) of ground almonds to one part of sugar. Others contain 50% almonds and 50% sugar. Danish Odense marzipan, the European brand marketed widely in the United States, has only 28% almonds. (Odense “Pure Almond Paste” contains 45% almonds.)

MARZIPAN MIGRATION
Culinary historians think that marzipan originally came to Europe from the Middle East, where almond trees and sugar cane have been grown since ancient times, and where there’s a long history of making sweets from almond paste. Even though the early Greeks and Phoenicians planted almond trees around the Mediterranean region, it was the Arabs who expanded the almond orchards, introduced sugar cane cultivation, and began producing marzipan in the areas of southern Europe they conquered and colonized between the 8th and 11th centuries. After Arab power waned in those parts of the Mediterranean, during the 11th to 15th centuries, the secrets of marzipan-making were preserved by nuns in Catholic convents, who produced these sinful sweets for sale to support themselves. That’s why former Arab-ruled lands such as Spain, Sicily, and Malta still have strong marzipan traditions today.

Historians surmise that marzipan spread to northern Europe from Venice and the eastern Mediterranean during the time of the Christian Crusades, from the 11th through 13th centuries. Certainly by the Middle Ages marzipan was known in France, England, and Germany, although in many places it was considered a costly medicine, sold only in pharmacies. It soon became a favored confection of the upper classes, whose cooks molded marzipan into elaborate and fantastic shapes for use as showy centerpieces or edible finales to medieval feasts.

Sign for the Mazapan Artesano

MARZIPAN MANUFACTURE
A traditional confection in Europe for several centuries, marzipan is made today by both artisan confectioners and big industrial plants. Centers of marzipan manufacture include Toledo, Spain; Palermo, Sicily; Budapest, Hungary; and Lübeck, Germany. Each has its own style of marzipan, with more or less sugar, baked or unbaked, and modeled into more shapes than you can imagine. At marzipan stores in Europe, I’ve seen this sweetened, colored almond paste formed into fruits, vegetables and flowers, from miniature to life-size; animals from penguins, polar bears and “good luck” pigs (for the New Year) to walruses, lions, hedgehogs and squirrels; Easter eggs and Easter rabbits; Santas and angels; fish and shellfish; lifelike sandwiches, cheeses and sausages; even modern marzipan cell phones and McDonald’s-like cardboard packets full of french fries.

Marzipan has other uses, too. Europeans fill chocolates with marzipan; wrap it around nuts, candied fruits and other sweet fillings; bake it inside cookies; and stuff dates, prunes, peaches and apples with it. They roll marzipan into thin sheets as a covering for fancy cakes and use it as ingredient in tortes and tartes, pies and pastries, sorbets and ice creams, even sweet dumplings, ravioli and roast pork. I once ate at a restaurant in Lübeck that featured “marzipan lasagna” for dessert, made with layers of white marzipan “pasta” and a red and green fondant filling.

MARZIPAN MUSEUMS
Several cities in Europe have marzipan museums, most of them attached to a confection company’s coffee shop, candy shop or factory store. The Niederegger Marzipan Salon, on the second floor of the Konditorei-Café Niederegger in Lübeck, Germany, has a display about the history of marzipan. But the actual shop on the ground floor is even more interesting, where you can buy more than 300 types of the company’s products, including whimsical edibles made out of marzipan and Niederegger’s irresistible Cuandolé marzipan liqueur.

Leu’s Marzipan-Land in Lübeck features a “Marzipan-Show” on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. You’ll see all the stages in the manufacture of marzipan, as well as an unusual exhibition of large marzipan sculptures, before pigging out in the shop where you’ll be tempted to buy more marzipan than you should ever eat in one sitting.

Hungary boasts three marzipan museums, all owned by the Szabo confectionery company. My favorite is the Szabo Marzipan Museum in Szentendre, a pleasant (but now overly touristy) little artists’ village not far from Budapest. This small museum is chock full of displays of colored marzipan shaped into Disney characters, a Cinderella coach, a massive wedding cake, a cactus garden and even a detailed replica of the Hungarian parliament building. On the ground floor there’s a traditional confectionery kitchen where you can watch marzipan being made and a shop where you can buy goodies to go. Next door the Szabo café-and-pastry shop offers a wide variety of luscious Hungarian cakes, tortes, ice cream concoctions, marzipan candies, coffees and teas.

The smaller Szabo Marzipan Museum in Budapest features large marzipan sculptures of the Matthias Church, the Fishermen’s Bastion, and the Chain Bridge across the Danube (all local landmarks), a Chinese pagoda, several Harry Potter characters and other curiosities, some made from more than 100 pounds of marzipan. And there’s another Szabo Marzipan Museum in Pécs, also connected with one of their coffee-and-pastry shops.

In Sonseca, Spain, just south of historic Toledo, you can visit the interesting Delaviuda Marzipan Museum at the Delaviuda candy factory, which shows how Spain’s distinctive (and delicious) marzipan is made. And finally, Tallinn, the capital of Estonia, also has a couple of small marzipan museums in the Old Town. I just haven’t managed to eat my way that far north yet.

ADDRESSES AND WEBSITES:
Konditorei-Café Niederegger, Breit Strasse 89, Lübeck, Germany
www.niederegger.de/en/cafe_niederegger/marzipansalon/
marzipansalon.php

Leu’s Marzipan-Land, Drechlerstrasse 6, Lübeck, Germany
www.marzipanland.de/eng.html

Szabo Marzipan Museum, Hilton Budapest, Hungary
Szabo Marzipan Museum, Dumtsa Jeno St. 14, Szentendre, Hungary
Szabo Marzipan Museum, Apaca St. 1, Pécs, Hungary
www.szabomarcipan.hu/angol.html

Delaviuda Marzipan Museum, Calle Santa Maria 4, Sonseca, Spain www.delaviuda.com

Gingerbread Galore!

By Sharon Hudgins
Photos by the author

‘Tis the season when a young elf’s fancy turns to thoughts of gingerbread. Although these sweet-spicy cakes and cookies are popular year-round in many countries of Europe, they’re particularly associated with the winter holidays. Bakeries from Sweden to Slovakia to Switzerland turn out tons of commercial gingerbread products, often packaged in brightly colored wrappings and tin boxes. And home bakers dig through kitchen drawers and recipe files to find favorite cookie cutters and family recipes for their own Christmas gingerbreads.

Although flatcakes made with honey and spices were baked by the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, the gingerbreads of northern Europe probably date only from the Middle Ages, when honey was still the main type of sweetener available locally, and exotic, expensive spices such as cinnamon, black pepper and ginger were increasingly being imported from faraway lands in the East. A taste for gingerbread eventually spread throughout Europe, with certain cities becoming known for their own particular types: Strasbourg and Dijon in France, Torun in Poland, Tula in Russia, Aachen and Nürnberg in Germany, Basel and St. Gallen in Switzerland.

MANY VARIETIES
Gingerbread recipes evolved over time and in diverse places. Various kinds of gingerbread were, and still are, made with different combinations of honey, sugar, flour, eggs, almonds, hazelnuts, walnuts, raisins, lemons, candied orange peel, candied citron, rosewater, rum, brandy, black pepper, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, cardamom, coriander, aniseed and saffron. Although these baked goods are often referred to as “gingerbread” in English, some of them don’t contain any ginger at all.

The variety of possible ingredients and textures causes some confusion about what “gingerbread” actually is. A cake, a cookie, or a loaf? Hard or soft? Thick or thin? Glazed or unglazed? Decorated with fancy frostings, or with fruits and nuts, or even with expensive gold leaf? At various times in its history, gingerbread has been all of these.

GERMAN GINGERBREAD
In the Middle Ages, the city of Nürnberg became one of the most famous places for making gingerbreads in Germany, where these seductive sweets have long been known as Lebkuchen (or sometimes Pfefferkuchen, when their spiciness comes from black pepper instead of ginger). Records show that Lebkuchen was being baked in Nürnberg as early as the 14th century. Traditionally, the stiff dough was pressed into highly detailed molds made of wood, metal, or terra cotta, which imprinted intricate designs on the Lebkuchen before it was removed from the molds and baked in a hot oven. Nürnberg Lebkuchen contained such costly ingredients, and was of such high quality, that it was accepted as payment for city taxes and given as gifts to nobles, princes, and heads of state.

Over time, as the prices of ingredients fell and the demand for Lebkuchen increased, faster production methods became necessary. The elaborate handmade molds were replaced by less detailed, often mass-produced, molds. Simpler decorations―such as nuts, candied fruit, and sugar frostings―were applied to the tops of many cookies. And the shapes were simplified, too, evolving into the basic human, animal, and geometric forms common today.

In the early 1800s, gingerbread houses became popular in Germany after the publication of the Grimm brothers’ fairy tale, Hansel and Gretel. And during the 19th century, ornately decorated Lebkuchen hearts also became the rage. Covered with fancy designs and romantic sayings made from colored icing, these large heart-shaped cookies were often exchanged between sweethearts. You can still buy them at almost every German festival and special market, including the Christmas markets held in many German cities throughout December.

The Lebkuchen produced in Germany today comes in all sorts of sizes, shapes, flavors, colors and textures: rounds, rectangles, squares, hearts, stars, pretzel forms, St. Nicholas (for Christmas), lucky pigs (for New Year) and rabbits (for Easter). The Lebkuchen dough can be “white” (light colored) or different shades of brown. Some Lebkuchen are also covered with white or chocolate icing, and some are filled with marzipan or jam. Honey Lebkuchen is sweetened only (or primarily) with honey. Oblaten Lebkuchen are cookies with the dough mounded on top of a thin wafer before baking. And delicate, elegant Elisen Lebkuchen are made with at least 25% ground almonds, hazelnuts, or walnuts, and no more than 10% flour.

GINGERBREADS ACROSS EUROPE
You’ll also find similar spicy cookies of different shapes, colors and textures called Printen (in Aachen, Germany), Pfefferkuchen (in Pulsnitz, Germany), Spekulatius (in the German Rhineland), Leckerli (in Basel, Switzerland), Biberli (in the Appenzell region of Switzerland), speculaas Holland, speculoos in Belgium, pepperkaker in Norway, pepparkakor in Sweden, piperkakut in Finland, pebernǿdder in Denmark, pain d’épices in France, licitar in Croatia, mézeskalács in Hungary, perníky in the Czech Republic and Slovakia, pierniki in Poland and prianiki in Russia. Other towns and regions have their own specific names for the many varieties of gingerbreads produced there.

Europeans also use gingerbread cookies as ingredients in other dishes. You’ll find crumbled gingerbread used as a stuffing for pork and for pasta, as a thickener for sauces, a flavoring for soups, a crunchy texture in salad dressings, and a base for many puddings and desserts. There’s even a German-Italian “fusion” dessert called ” Nürnberger Tiramisu”! And for people who just can’t get enough of that sweet, spicy, Christmasy taste of gingerbread, the Belgians have recently invented a gingery, caramely speculoos spread, similar in texture to Nutella, made from crushed gingerbread cookies.

If I’ve whetted your appetite for these European gingerbreads, my best suggestion is to travel there and taste them for yourself. You can also mail order many of them from the websites listed below. Costard, the clown in Shakespeare’s play, “Love’s Labour’s Lost,” had the right idea when he said, “An’ I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread.”

Nürnberg Lebkuchen information www.lebkuchen.nuernberg.de/englische_version/index.html

Lebkuchen-Schmidt, Nürnberg
ww2.lebkuchen-schmidt.com/eng_index.php

Metzger Lebkuchen, Vienna
www.lebkuchenmetzger.at/

Lebkuchen-Pirker, Mariazell, Austria
www.lebkuchen-pirker.at/home/index.php?&lang+eng

Kerner Lebkuchen, Mariazell, Austria
www.lebzelterei-kerner.at/index.htm

Lebkuchen-Gandl, St. Wolfgang, Austria
www.lebkuchen-gandl.com/

Appenzeller Biberli, Switzerland
www.baerli-biber.ch/

Basel Läckerli, Switzerland
www.laeckerli-huus.ch/

French-Alsatian Pain d’Épices
www.paindepices-lips.com
www.fortwenger.fr/

Alte Pfefferkuechlerei (small gingerbread museum in Weissenberg,Germany) www.museum.stadt-weissenberg.de/

Speculoos Spread
www.thenibble.com/zine/archives/speculoos-spread.asp

YouTube video about how to make decorated European gingerbread
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OVX5wiv_oMk

American online sources for ordering European gingerbreads
www.germandeli.com
www.germangrocery.com

Lamb Stew Hits the Spot in Ireland

Photos courtesy of Tourism Ireland

County Wicklow is famous for its sheep and wool, and the Wicklow Mountains have been renowned from the earliest times for the native breeds, which are of a distinct type, and have been on the mountains for centuries. The date of origin of the Wicklow Mountain sheep can only be approximated, but one thing is for sure, the Irish have many seasonal, regional and tasty recipes to take care of nature’s providence, including plenty for the less popular cuts.

This recipe is a twist on the typical Irish lamb stew with a few additional flavors thrown in such as basil, oregano, celery, mushrooms and red wine. It comes from Wicklow Lady Fiona Teehan, whose mother is handed a gift of a whole sheep every year in return for some sheep-minding duties by her father. Fiona is manager of Pembroke Townhouse, a superb example of classic Georgian elegance in the heart of Dublin’s Ballsbridge area, just a 10-minute walk from the city center.

WICKLOW STEW
Serves 4
Ingredients:
3 tablesp sunflower oil
1 shoulder of Wicklow lamb, boned, trimmed of excess fat and cut into small cubes
3-4 sticks of celery, chopped into 1 inch lengths
1 onion, finely chopped
4 oz mushrooms, halved
1/2 c. red wine
1 c. vegetable stock
1 tablesp cornstarch
1 tablesp fresh basil, finely chopped (or 1 teasp dried basil)
1 tablesp fresh oregano, finely chopped (or 1 teasp dried oregano)
1 teasp grated lemon rind
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
To garnish: freshly chopped herbs (some or all of basil / oregano / parsley)
To serve: mashed potato (or buttered noodles or boiled long grain rice to your preference)

Method
1. Heat half of the oil in a frying pan. When the oil is hot, add the lamb cubes and fry them, stirring frequently for about 10 minutes until they are well browned. Transfer the meat to a plate.
2. Heat the remaining oil in a casserole. Add the celery, onion and mushrooms and continue cooking over the heat until the onion is just soft.
3. Add the wine to the pan and boil well for two minutes.
4. Blend the stock together with the cornstarch and pour the mixture into the pan.
5. Add the basil, oregano, lemon rind. Season with the salt and pepper. Then, add back the cubed lamb. Mix well with the rest of the ingredients.
6. Cover with a lid or tinfoil, reduce the heat and simmer gently for 40-45 minutes or until the lamb is tender.
7. Sprinkle with a garnish of freshly chopped herbs (as above). Serve piping hot with mashed potato, (or buttered noodles or boiled long grain rice to your preference)

Optional: If you like garlic, add four cloves of minced Garlic with the onions.

To freeze: This dish freezes well. Cool quickly and pour into a freezer-proof container or bag. Label and freeze. Do not store in freezer for longer than two months.

For more info, go to Discover Ireland.

Hiking + Swiss Alps = Fun

By Barbara Gibbs Ostmann
All photos courtesy Switzerland Tourist Board

Switzerland is celebrating 150 years of Alpinism this year, and there’s no better way to celebrate than by going for a long mountain hike.

Aristocratic English adventurers were on to a good thing back in 1857 when they reached the summit of the Finsteraarhorn and later, upon their return to London, founded The Alpine Club, the first mountaineering association in the world.

By 1863, English climbers had ascended more than 50 Swiss peaks, firmly launching Switzerland as the playground of Europe and the center of mountain tourism. Today’s hikers can choose from more than 40,000 miles of well-marked paths throughout the country.

NEED COMFORTABLE BOOTS
Touring Switzerland by foot is a lot different than touring it by train or car, and worth all the sweat and effort. The key to a successful hiking trip is a pair of well-broken-in hiking boots — it is not the time to try out a new pair.

Having lived in Switzerland for two years as a graduate student, and visiting it many times, I had my doubts about going on an organized hiking tour. But hiking in a group proved to be a great way to visit Switzerland, providing moral support and camaraderie. Although we had prepared for the trip by hiking at home, we all benefited from the well-planned itinerary that began with easy walks and built up to the steeper climbs, preparing us physically for the more difficult parts of the hike.

My group of hiking companions, ranging in age from 13 to 67, set off in high spirits from Les Avants, above Montreux on Lake Geneva in the French-speaking part of Switzerland, and arrived 10 days later, foot weary but fulfilled, in M̹rren in the heart of the Bernese Oberland in German-speaking Switzerland.

STARTED EASY
The adventure began with an easy hike through the forest up to the Col de Jaman (Jaman Pass), above Lac Leman (Lake Geneva). We spent the first night on the trail in a matratzenlager or dormitory — a large room filled with side-by-side mattresses. It was a good introduction to what to expect in the final stages of our hike when we would be in the mountains for three days, carrying all our food and clothing. For most of the trip, we carried a day pack and a sack lunch each day, while our suitcases were transported by bus to the next village and hotel where we would spent the night.

It was early to bed because it was early to rise. At a little more than 11 miles, the next day’s walk was the longest of the trip, and much of it was on paved roads— hard on the feet and legs. However, the scenery along the Lac de L’Hongrin was beautiful and the weather was sunny and warm. The day’s hike ended in L’Etivaz, a small village in the French part of Switzerland.

DAY THREE
The third day’s walk was more typical of those to come. We started with a steep climb out of the valley and up to the windy Col de Jable (Jable Pass), where we huddled behind a rock fence to eat lunch. Upon crossing the Col de Jable, we left the French Canton of Vaud and entered the German Canton of Bern. Descending, we arrived in the glitzy resort town of Gstaad. There was time to shop, but in our hiking gear, we didn’t look the part of fashionable Gstaad jet-setters.

In the morning, we hiked through drizzling rain to the bus stop and took the postal bus from Gstaad to the village of Lauenen, where we set out on the day’s hike. As we trudged over the Tr̹tlisberg Pass, the rain grew heavier and the temperature dropped. At the top of the pass, it was sleeting, and we were wet, cold and miserable. No stop for a picnic lunch at the top of this pass! In fact, no stop for lunch at all. All we wanted was to get to the next town, Lenk, and get warm and dry.

We did hole up briefly on the porch of an unoccupied chalet where we nibbled chocolate bars, changed from wet to dry clothes (if you were lucky enough to have any dry ones in your pack) and generally fortified ourselves for the remaining descent. We finally arrived at our small hotel in Lenk, where we rushed to get into hot baths midpoint of hike the hotel quickly ran out of hot water.

The next day, the midpoint of the hike and a free day, dawned sunny and bright. Many of us took the ski lift up to Leiterli from where we could see across the valley to the pass we had crossed the day before in the rain. We could pick out the chalet where we stopped, the place where we got lost and had to climb on our hands and knees on the slippery scree to get back up to the path, and where we had turned off to take a shortcut to town. It looked better in the sunshine than it had in the rain the day before!

Sunday, it was back to the trail. We started with a short bus ride to the hamlet of B̹elberg, from which we hiked to the Hahnenmoos Pass. It was drizzling, but nothing like the rainy day we’d had before. As we descended, the rain stopped, and we arrived in the lovely town of Adelboden with time to visit the shops.

The journey from Les Avants to Adelboden had been an introduction to the days to come. From Adelboden on, the mountains were higher and more rugged, and much of the trail was above the timberline.

The next day’s 9-mile hike began with a long, hard climb up to the Bunderchrinde Pass — more than 3,500 feet over slippery shale rock — then on to Kandersteg. As I sweated, puffed and panted, I wondered if I could actually make it. But when I reached the pass at 7,500 feet, it was more than worth the effort.

In my notebook I wrote, with words inadequate to describe the satisfaction of being there: What a thrill. The view is worth the whole hike. We are above the clouds, and in the clouds, as they move and change position. The north face of the Eiger just popped out of the clouds — thrilling! Eiger and Munch

Later, both the Eiger and the M̦nch were stunning as they poked through the clouds. Sighting the Eiger that day was the first of many such glimpses as we continued toward it and ended up directly across from it at our final destination of M̹rren. We were now at the heart of the hike — three days in the mountains with everything on our backs, hiking from Kandersteg to M̹rren, across the Bernese Oberland into the shadow of the Jungfrau, the magnificent mountain and glacier above Interlaken.

Luck was with us, and we had great weather for the three days, and even the next day in M̹rren, when we visited the Jungfraujoch in bright sunlight.

Leaving Kandersteg and its comforts, we started with a chairlift up to the Oeschinnensee, a spectacular Alpine lake with blue waters in an incredibly beautiful setting. From the lake, it’s a climb of more than 3,600 feet to the Hoht̹rli Pass, where we spent the night in an Alpine hut on the Bl̹misalp, next to a glacier. The hut, perched precariously on the top of the pass, is a popular spot for summer hikers and mountain climbers. In the winter, it is covered completely by snow. The accommodations at the hut consisted of a large room filled with mattresses, where we all piled in and slept like logs.

COLORFUL, AWESOME SUNSET
One of the thrills that day was watching the colorful sunset, as the sun sank into the clouds, framed by the mountain peaks. From the pass, we could pick out the Eiger, now bigger and closer than its first sighting yesterday, as well as the Schilthorn with its restaurant perched on top, the scene of the James Bond movie, “In Her Majesty’s Secret Service.”

We began the morning’s descent by clinging to a steel cable pegged into the mountain wall as we slipped and slid on loose scree. The descent of 4,000 feet before reaching Alpine pastures seemed interminable. We just kept walking-and walking-and walking and going down and down and down.

We finally reached the valley floor where a glacial river flowed, icy cold and steel gray in color. We peeled off as much clothing as we could and still be decent and cooled off in the stream. Then it was on to a nearby chalet for cold beer and our sack lunches.

In the afternoon, we hiked along a wide path with wildflowers and bright sun. It was a delightful walk, leading us to our accommodations for the night: a cow and goat barn at Unter D̹rrenberg.

A ‘LOFTY’ SLEEP
We climbed a ladder from the stables to the loft. (You quickly learn to hold the sides of the ladder, not the rungs, unless you want a handful of cow manure!) In the loft, there were side-by-side mattresses, as in the dormitories. Only here, the air was scented with ammonia from the goats and cows below. It was primitive, but one of the trip’s highlights for me, but not for some of my fellow hikers. It was probably a good thing that the next night we would find ourselves in a comfortable hotel once again.

The next day was the last day of the hike, and we hated to see it end. The morning’s climb was the most difficult of the entire trip — or maybe I was just getting tired. I thought I’d never make it across all that slippery scree and obtain the summit. But once again, upon arriving at the pass, the Sefinenfurke, the views were so spectacular and the feeling of accomplishment so great that I immediately forgot the ordeal of arriving there.

MAKE IT LAST
We dawdled over lunch at the pass; everyone wanted to make the day last as long as possible. A snooze in the sun, a scramble to a nearby peak for photos, and soon it was time to descend. We crossed from the shale into Alpine pastures into forest and down into M̹rren, a picturesque village perched on the side of the mountain, facing the Jungfrau, M̦nch and Eiger across the valley.

The snow-covered mountains radiated sunlight as we descended, alpenstocks (walking sticks) in hand. After watching the Eiger grow larger and larger for several days, suddenly there it was, bigger than life and bathed in bright sunlight.

The feelings of the group could be summed up in the words we saw carved in German on an ancient chalet in the village of Kandersteg:

“He who drinks of the high mountain light, shall know no unhappiness on earth.”

I’ll drink to that.

ET EXTRA
The company I traveled with is no longer offering the Swiss hiking itinerary, but several other companies offer similar guided or self-guided trips. Start with these links and do some research to find the trip that suits you.
* Ryder Walker Alpine Adventures, www.ryderwalker.com.
* Wanderweg Holidays, www.wanderwegholidays.com.
* Active Journeys, www.activejourneys.com.
* Ibex Treks, www.ibextreks.com.
* European Walking Tours, www.walkingtours.com.
* The Wayfarers, www.thewayfarers.com.
* Alpinehikers, www.alpinehikers.com.

For hiking tips and itineraries specific to Switzerland, visit www.myswitzerland.com and click on “hiking.”

The most important item for a hiking trip is a good pair of boots that fit you well and are thoroughly broken in. Other things to include in your pack are: moleskin, Band-Aids, Swiss Army knife, water bottle, sunscreen, Ace bandages, medicated powder, poncho, wool or fleece sweater or jacket, flashlight, binoculars, compass, hat, sunglasses, resealable plastic bags for keeping articles dry. Be sure to dress in layers — the weather in the mountains can change swiftly.

ABOUT THE WRITER
Barbara Gibbs Ostmann is an award-winning journalist with 30 years of writing and editing experience in newspapers, magazines, cookbooks and newsletters. She was food writer for the New York Times Regional Newspaper Group from 1993-2005 and food editor of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch from 1975-1990. She joined the faculty of the University of Missouri-Columbia as an assistant professor and the coordinator of the Agricultural Journalism program from 1991-1993.

Barbara has co-edited 12 cookbooks and is co-author of “The Recipe Writer’s Handbook,” a style manual, and was copyedited or contributed to 17 other books. She writes about travel, food and wine for regional and national magazines, and copyedits manuscripts for several publishing houses.

Barbara is treasurer of The Culinary Trust, the philanthropic arm of the International Association of Culinary Professionals (IACP). She is also on the Board of Directors of the Midwest Travel Writers Association and the Missouri Association of Publications. She has traveled extensively in Europe, Asia, Australia, Africa, North America and South America.

Germany’s Black Forest: Home of the Famous Wooden Cuckoo Clock

Jack, the cuckoo clock demonstrator in the Black Forest, explains the history and manufacturing process at the Familia Drubba’s Hofgut Sternen in Breitnau, Germany.

By Marilyn Heimburger
Photos by the author

One of my early childhood memories is watching my aunt change the time on her cuckoo clock so I could hear the cuckoo sound over and over again.

My grandfather, who emigrated from Germany at the age of 22, bought the clock during his only visit back to his homeland, after World War II. Since my fascination with the clock has continued into adulthood, I was happy to learn more about them during a trip to Familia Drubba’s Hofgut Sternen. Breitnau, in Germany’s Black Forest, which was a stopover destination included in a Rhine River Viking Cruise I took recently.

GREETED BY CUCKOO AND MUSIC

If you pull into the Hofgut Sternen parking lot at the top of the hour, you’ll be greeted by the cuckoo, music, and dancing characters of one of the largest cuckoo clocks in Germany. The two-story-high clock is built into the side of the shop.

Inside the building, Jack, the cuckoo clock demonstrator, briefly explains the history and manufacturing process of Germany’s most popular souvenir. A primitive form of the cuckoo clock dates back to the mid-1600’s and used stones as weights (the original “rock around the clock,” according to Jack.) It had no minute hand, only one hand to tell the hour. Shield clocks, with a flat face board painted with colorful flowers and scenes, were made around 1720, with the first cuckoo appearing in one around 1760. The station house clock, with a peaked roof and hand-carved leaves and animals, appeared around 1860.

The cuckoo sound was chosen for the clock because it was an easy sound to imitate. Two different sized bellows send puffs of air into two wooden pipes, to produce the two-pitched cuckoo sound.

At least two pinecone-shaped weights hang on chains beneath the clock: one to operate the cuckoo and one for the cog-driven timing mechanism. If the clock has a third weight, it has been fitted with a music box, which plays after the call of the cuckoo. The clocks are “wound” by pulling the chains to raise the weights to their highest position. Clocks with large pinecone weights are wound once a week; clocks with small pinecones are wound every day. While my aunt had to still the oak leaf pendulum every night to stop the clock and quiet the cuckoo, many clocks now have a switch that turns off the cuckoo and music, but allows the clock to keep running.

The Linden Tree wood is used in the clocks because it is easy to carve and features very little grain.

CLOCKS FROM LINDEN TREE WOOD

Most cuckoo clocks are made of wood from the Linden tree, because it is easy to carve and has hardly any grain. Since the wood is so moist, it has to dry for two years before it can be used. To make the frame board for the front of the station house clock, a stencil is placed against the flat board, and the basic outline is lightly spray-painted. This design is cut using a scroll saw or jig saw. Nothing else is done by machine. The rest of the frame board is hand-carved, a process that can take six to eight weeks for a large clock. Vines, oak leaves, birds, rabbits and stags are the traditional decorations on station house clocks.

Character clocks add humor to timekeeping. One clock at Hofgut Sternen features a man shoveling a dumpling into his mouth with each sounding of the hour. The “mother-in-law clock” has a woman bopping a lazy son-in-law on his head at the top of the hour, to encourage him to get to work.

An interesting observation: during all of the years I’ve looked at cuckoo clocks, I had never noticed that the Roman numeral used for the number four on the clock face is IIII, and not IV. Two theories sem to be most popular explaniations for this. In ancient Roman times, “IV” was an abbreviation for the Roman god, Jupiter. IIII was therefore used out of respect so that Roman public sundials or clocks didn’t have “1 2 3 GOD 5” on them. Later clock markers continued to use this alternative Roman numeral system on their timepieces. The other theory is simply one of symmetry on the clock face. The number eight, or “VIII” on the clock dial, is the heaviest number, consisting of four characters. Using IV (only two characters) for the number 4 on the opposite side of the clock face, would ruin the symmetry. Therefore the four-character “IIII” is preferred.

I am now the proud owner of my aunt’s cuckoo clock. The carved oak leaf decorations show evience of being dropped and re-glued by my uncle. But the cuckoo still works, and now enchants my grandchildren just as it did for me.

In the Black Forest, these men and women, in typical colorful garb from the region, are tour guides who know the towns, mountains and legends of this famous area.

IF YOU WANT MORE INFORMATION…

These retailers sell German-made cuckoo clocks on the web. We have listed them as a convenience to European Traveler readers, but we have no specific recommendations who to buy them from: www.clockway.comwww.german-cuckoos.comwww.BlackForestGifts.com and www.designedintime.com.