In which we toodle through fields of gold (and beyond).

June 2013. My employment situation shifted significantly between May and June as I magically poofed into a full-time in-house translator for a large Hamburg-based company. However, it took several weeks for bureaucracy to catch up with the times, which left me with a month of limbo while awaiting the approval of a new work visa. These few weeks of temporary unemployment, as it were, turned out to be a delicious blessing. Caught up on sleep, detoxed from stress, traveled north and west and east and south with companions from many different spheres of my past and present. All that topped with a fancy visa good for the next few years and I'm as content as a really happy clam.

The first adventure took place with a friend amongst wee villages and fishing towns on the coast of the Baltic Sea and elsewhere at the tippy top of Germany and bottomy bottom of Denmark.

It's dangerous to go on vacation after so many days of good weather, but the celestial kind regards just kept on giving. Hamburg became greener and greener as the vehicle zoomed north 'til there was no more city to be seen, just fields clinging to a last, light fringe of fragrant, yellow canola bloomings. The Autobahn eventually switched to Manualbahn and towns were traversed as ever quickening speeds (without the help of the Beschleuniger). Thatched and browning (or rather greening) roofs were a surprising sight and seemed out of place above modern walls and windows, as if the houses had spliced while going through a time machine, leaving their toupées behind. And everywhere flowers -- branches hanging heavily with grapelike blossoms, eye-popping orange poppies, lilacs, lupines, Queen Anne's Lace, all thrown into pleasantly shocking contrast against the blue sky background.

The keys to the little apartment we were renting were set to be picked up at an old chateau. The building was found without too much difficulty, canons and all, though a neighbor had to help with locating the keys in their very secret hiding place. The blue and white chateau had been renovated into private residences, though was not touristy in any sense in it's almost-off-the-map location. We were just easing some ginger orange pecan muffins into our mouths when a little old lady easing herself onto a nearby bench started speaking to us -- not a common occurrence in my experience. She was so warm and as chatty as she was classy -- very -- nice weather, where're you from, whatcha doin', to-do suggestions, grandkids, isn't baking wonderful and well wishes for our stay, P.S. mass at the chateau on Sunday. I wanted to adopt her as my German Oma right then and there, but felt like that might have been a little too forward. So I said my tschüsses, regretfully, and we drove back across the wooden bridge, over the squacking ducks in the moat, and on through more fields dotted with blink-an'-yull-miss'em villages to see the sea the sea the sea.

Despite the questionable directions to our destination, we found our way there and were not greeted by our black and white neighbors, who were the least friendly, least curious, and least greedy cows I had yet encountered. Maybe that was because they were spoiled with their own self-service (a.k.a. wipe yer snot here) water fountain, but I doubt it.

A propos neighbors, cheap motion detectors around the house were set a-squeeching by the car, by the cows, by us. The neighborhood farmer told us upon arrival that they were to keep the neighbor cats away. Motioning across the hedge, "Der hat so um 30 Stück davon!"(He's got like 30 of 'em!) and continued explaining that the sensors give the felines an electric shock from several meters away -- but don't worry, it only works on cats and knows the difference between creatures like that and creatures like us. (Skeptisch bin ich ja.)

The Baltic was just a short jaunt down the road, as were sheepies, sand art, and goldeny golden goodness.

The next brilliantly weathered day was spent exploring noselike peninsulas and many of the wee villages and less-wee towns along the Schlei, a skinny, salty inlet of the Baltic Sea that snakes its way inland for 20 miles or so (and has a really fun name). Fields a-plenty, wind-twisted trees, quiet cobblestones, grassy docks, and umlauts galore. Swan yoga and calm nest sitting while buff, blue-overalled dock workers did this and that or nothing at all. Shaded, off-road shallows providing perfect spontaneous swimming conditions while an extraordinarily large women frolicked with three extraordinarily small dogs on a strip of beach nearby.

(How much longer?)

 

The cathedral in Schleswig dominates the shore as you zoop around the Schlei, giganticking across the waters. We had a peek inside and discovered lovely ceilings, darkening spots of sunshine on the stone floor dyed by stained glass windows, and many adorable children in various homemade costumes preparing for a play rehearsal.

Adventured out, we wound our way over shrinking streets back to the neighbor cows, turned golden and black in the late evening sun. Cooking, chilling, and sleeping all needed to be verbed before the explorations could continue the next day.

In which the night is mild and deep and smells of fish.

Once upon a few weeks ago in Hamburg (remember Hamburg? -- still my pearl), good weather led to soaring spirits led to spontaneous adventuring led to an Elbe stroll to finish up the finest of Blue Hours. 'Round 11 p.m. in early July, sky finally settling down hue or two, the Sunshine Frenzy that had most certainly been swarming the harbor a few hours before had buzzed down to a few colonies of Young Persons hooliganning and a few disco boats popping their neon beats across the river ripples. Schooners swaying slightly to acknowledge a passing ferry, the unfinished Elbephilharmonie enjoying a smooth cocktail of time and city funding, Simba and Nala living somewhat happily ever across the way (now that they can finally take those sweaty costumes off for another night). Wandering through the spookily lit streets of the Speicherstadt, all silent but for the creaking of ships, the sighing of docks under footsteps, and the ghost of Michael Jackson wafting down the canals and sneaking in through the open windows of multimilliondollar HafenCity flats, summoned all the way from Neverland by a teenage party at the end of the pier. 'illie Jean-ean is not my-y-y 'over-er-er... I was amazed (and admittedly a little schadenfroh) at how one loud neighbor could probably maul the sleep of every resident even in this most deluxe of quartiers. Na ja.

Lights, camera, action.

(As per usual, click for a closer look.)

 

 

 

Bake Date: Magical (Vegan) Mango Banana Bread

 

Enough with the traveling -- let's just schmooze in the kitchen for a change (though we've still got trips to the USA, Baltic Sea, and Italy on the list, not to mention home sweet Hamburg).

Warm, spicy, fruity, with the perfect degree of mush to make your heart sing and hips start swaying like a palm tree in the breeze. During one of the last theater spurts I played with this recipe every weekend for four weeks straight. Somehow it never lasted more than a day. Pulled it out again lastnight, brought the product to work this morning and it was gone by 10 a.m., slurpiddy slurp.

What you need:

3 medium or 2 large ripe bananas
1/4 cup applesauce
1 Tbsp olive oil
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2  teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp allspice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 ripe mango, sliced into wee chunks

(Tasty variations: chopped walnuts and chocolate chips; chopped dried apricots, ½ inch grated fresh ginger and finely chopped candied ginger…)

Oventemp: 350°F (175°C) ((450°K))
Makes: 1 heavy 9x5" loaf.
Musik: Anything presented by Putumayo based in the southern hemisphere, such as "Brazilian Groove".

Preheat oven. Lightly fatten and flour your pan.
Now ask yourself: Self? Is your mango already sliced and chopped into spectacular orangeyellow chunks? Answer YES, congrats, you may proceed. Answer NO, do that, then move along.

In a large mixing bowl, moosh the bananas well. Add the Brown sugar, applesauce/oil, and vanilla extract, and forkforkfork that in a spinning forknado of sweet integration. Mix in spices and salt, then baking soda. Now thicken with half the flour, fold in mango chunks, and grand finish with the remaining flour.

Goop the batter to the flowery pan and, if using, sprinkle with extra candied ginger/schoko/nuts/sugar grains. Bake in your preheated oven for 45 to 50 minutes. The top should be lightly browned and a knife inserted through the center should come out clean, or with just a few sticky crumblies. Don't underbake this one, as it's already going to be sticky and mooshing with yumness when it's for-real baked.

Remove from the oven without burning yourself and let cool for at least 20 minutes before transferring onto a wire rack to cool completely. Try to depan it too soon and your product will look like a failure. Delicious warm. Delicious cold. Any way you slice it (or spoon it, as will more likely be the case).