Guess who's coming to dinner? The in-laws. Peter spent Friday night with Omi and Opa, so tonight they're dropping him off. Around 3pm, Timi, Parker and I skip out for a shopping mission at the Naschmarkt, one of Europe's great open-air food markets. (Note to anybody thinking of visiting us: You can eat and drink there aplenty!)
On the way to the Strassenbaum.
Parker helps me pick out some beans.
Get a load of all that fresh fish.
Think Opa would eat one of these tentacled guys?
Timi's ready to start snacking. Sure, we'll take a half-dozen to tide us over until the next stall.
The fish monger shucks these fellas on the spot.
Hunca-Munca. I hope they give me a knife to cut it with.
Whaddya say we move on to the salami?
Of course the Comte is impossible to pass up.
Oops, Timi asked if Comte is from Spain (come on babe, you're a New Yorker you know this stuff!), and the cheesemonger guffaws and says he's not licensed to sell to the ignorant.
Nevertheless he carves a bit of meat off of some animal's leg to give us a taste of something that is from Spain. Timi tries a sliver. Our man pats the animal's hoof as he explains that we're trying Pata Negra, the leg of black footed pig. Yep, it's a black foot alright. Parker pipes up: "Parker try patenegu too."
Not being one to forfeit the last word, Timi asks if perhaps some of the merchandise isn't perhaps a bit overripe...
I feel parched. It must be time for wine shopping.
Not sure how we wound up doing a tasting at Gegenbauer instead. They make 70 different types of vinegar.
Here's where we learn (in two languages mind you) a little know fact about fruit vinegars: most aren't made from real fruit. If it says raspberry vinegar, it's probably just wine vinegar flavored with raspberry. Gegenbauer's vinegars are all made from fermented fruit juice, (not just wine), so they have a true fruit aroma and taste. (I can't help but thinking that a glass of wine might have really helped me concentrate.)
This guy is like the Ph.D of vinegar-making. Timi tunes in as Mr. Gegenbauer explains how their stuff is aged in old barrels that they store on the roof of their building. In summer the barrels get hot and the water evaporates through the wood. The older the vinegar, the sweeter.
I'm skeptical, but why not give it a try. He whips out his dropper and proceeds to give me a lick of the precious fluid on the back of the hand. I feel like I've gone back in time and am now under the influence of a peddler of miracle tonics at the county fair.
The black currant really does taste like fruit, but sweeter. I take a bottle for 12 euros, but at 32 e's a pop, I decide I can probably risk a few more weeks without the 10-year-rooftop-barrel aged balsamic...
...besides I smell truffles. Now that's something worth shelling out for!
Well maybe on the next visit. We still need something for tonight's dinner. On the way out we grab two whole Rotbarsch (red perch) from Norway, about 1 1/2 each and some crab legs for an appetizer. Time to beat a path home via the Underground 2 and Strassenbahn 37 and start cooking.
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