CRF: Austria

"CRF" is not a crime show you've never heard of, it stands for "Cutting Room Floor." Below are some of our favorite pics that never made the blog. We figured we'd reminisce a little while we vacation "off map." (Back on the trail April 14th).

Austria was rainy. It’s too bad, because it’s such a great outdoors place – but it’s true. Our time there was damp, drizzly and overcast. But we had a good time, camped in some beautiful places, took a few nice hikes, enjoyed Vienna and ate a lot of Schnitzel (which was both horrible and fun).

This bottle of gentian liquor was particularly awful in an intriguing, highly drinkable way. The taste was bitter beyond belief, the stuff smelled like turpentine – but this is the endearing thing about any obscure tipple: it makes you feel very warm and enthusiastic about the experiment of drinking it.

We camped by the Danube for a while, and took a few swims near this little beach.

If there’s something about the country that makes us feel remorse, it’s that the Austrians seem incapable of being saved from bad food. How can a country so well off, so serious, so committed to health and hiking, be so obstinately tied to fried, ground, slab-sided, stuffed, cheese-covered, heavily-sauced meats? The food is beyond heavy. We left feeling a kind of permanent heartburn.

This is Hohensalzburg Castle, which sits like a grand duke above the stately streets of Salzburg. We took a few stabs at getting a castle hunting post out of it, but the weather was uncooperative and there were other things to do.

One of our favorite drinking places in a city full of them, Bunkerei was set down in the verdant shade of Augarten park, near our rented flat in Vienna.

Yet another view across the Danube, of a storm curling up over the hills toward us. At this campsite, near Rossatz Amsdorf, we struck up a pleasant friendship with a Polish father and son who were bicycling along the river. The son, about seven or eight, was very enthusiastic about befriending us, and dragged his more reluctant father to our picnic table. The boy wanted, first, to discuss camping stoves.

Drinking is more than a casual pastime in Austria – we still laugh about this, though. A vending machine dispensing liquor in the little town of Admont.

I crawled out of the tent one night, during a pause in the rain, to take this picture. The mountains were glorious, but the valley we were in attracted and held storms, so that they rolled down over us as though caught in a groove. Despite the wet, we still very much miss the tent.

Read all our Austria posts.

CRF: Switzerland

"CRF" is not a crime show you've never heard of, it stands for "Cutting Room Floor." Below are some of our favorite pics that never made the blog. We figured we'd reminisce a little while we vacation "off map." (Back on the trail April 14th).

Switzerland is a magical place. It’s one of the few places where everything you’ve heard about ends up being true – the mountains soar, the lakes glisten, the pastures are verdant, the towns cheerful, the cows peaceful and the people straightforward. We spent our time hiking a lot and falling in love with every nook and cranny. Switzerland is definitely one of the most picturesque places on earth.
This picture was taken on one of the ferries of lake Luzern, on the Ursee. We spent quite a few days close by the water here, camping at a beautiful ground in Brunnen. Our tent was just a few feet from the shore.
This is the first place we stayed, near Gruyere. It was a pretty old farm with about thirty Swiss browns and nice views. For breakfast we were served thick cuts of cheese and glass jars of sweet, clotted cream along with honey and plum jam.
This picture was taken at another campground, which Rebecca wrote about lovingly.
An old couple in the city of Luzerne. This was when we were walking back from the verkershaus museum, a few minutes before a torrential rain began.
This was on our hike up into the land of berggasthauses. A family was sitting at an outdoor table at the little farm. They had a sign advertising fresh goat cheese and they waved for us to join them. We regret not stopping, but we were in a hurry.
Thinking of Switzerland is to conjure images of the Alps, but the country is just as much about water as it is rock.
This was at a market in Bern, the capital (did you know that?) that we fell in love with.
On an amazing hike, looking down at the majesty of lake Luzern.
On this hike we were headed towards a castle that turned out to be just a stone house. This is the amazing part about Switzerland – the hills are teeming with hikers, cows and farmers.
The national sport may very well be paragliding.
We stayed at a berggasthaus on the shore of this little pond, which had the clearest water we’ve ever seen.

Read all Swiss posts, including lots more about cheese and some about chocolate.

CRF: San Marino

"CRF" is not a crime show you've never heard of, it stands for "Cutting Room Floor." Below are some of our favorite pics that never made the blog. We figured we'd reminisce a little while we vacation "off map." (Back on the trail April 14th).

A little over a year ago we were in San Marino. Every microstate is strange, but this little country is one of the strangest.

We explored San Marino with a kind of frantic, springtime jubilation. The weather had finally warmed up after our long, soviet winter. There were flowers and plenty of sunshine. We hiked to every corner.

We had a goal of having an Aperol spritz in each of the country’s nine municipalities – we can’t remember if we actually accomplished the feat or not, but we came really close. This was what remained after a group of young kids shared a bucket of “sprizz” (as they call it). We look back pretty fondly on the “apperativos” they serve with drinks.

Tiled roofs in the capital, which has some of the best views in the country and some very cool towers.

We camped for more than half our time in San Marino, at the country’s only official campground. The on site restaurant was called “Garden,” and we ate there more times than we should have. The pizza was so good we couldn’t help ourselves.

A police car hood – we thought about doing a post about all the different military and police divisions, but never ended up doing it. Somewhat comically, tiny San Marino has two different types of police and six different divisions in its military - including the fearsome Crossbow Corps. (We're not making that up).

Flowers at the weekly market in Borgo Maggiore.

One of the few gas stations.

A burnt tree near where we illegally camped one night.

Read all Sammarinese posts!

Coastal Drama on Gozo

Walking down towards the Azure Window we were in awe of the scenery - and the crowds. It's amazing that people take bus tours in such a small country, especially on Gozo. But they do. Even though you can walk across the island in about two and a half hours, or take a public bus anywhere in about fifteen minutes. They're carted from place to place, let off to take some pictures, then herded back together and driven somewhere else. Unwilling to go more than a few yards from his bus, one American man whistled at another tourist who was in front of him. When the tourist didn't move, the man snorted. "Now I won't get a good picture," he said.

The Azure Window is probably the most visited natural feature of this green little isle, and for good reason. Notice the scale - there's a person on top, there in the picture - and the setting. But it's hardly the only beautiful, interesting bit of coast.

Near Xlendi and its perfect natural harbor, the coastline takes on a strange, rough/smooth mix. Gozo - like the rest of Malta - is mostly limestone, and the softer varieties of the stone are carved and rubbed smooth by the waves. Here, in a cupped hollow of rock, someone had cut a door.

On the opposite side of Gozo, at the base of a long valley, Ramla Bay's red sands stretch in a perfect crescent. The sand is as soft and fine as down, the color is beautiful in the late afternoon sunlight - though, admittedly, more deep orange than red.

This was, according to tradition, Odysseus' view for seven years as a prisoner of the nymph Calypso. Her cave is supposedly tucked into the cliffs that rise to the west of the beach. When we were there, few people were in their swimsuits. A cold wind was coming in off the sea to the north, and the water was frigid.
Near Dwejra, the fishermen earn extra money by taking tourists on short boat rides into the caves that dot the cliffs there. The ride begins in a sort of small, pondlike lagoon that the locals call the "Inland Sea." Between the lagoon and the real sea, a high cliff runs - there's a narrow passageway, though, just wide and high enough for a small boat to pass through. On the other side are a few other grottos, mostly uninteresting other than being watery.
Fungus Rock, a high-sided bump of land near St. Lawrenz, is one of the only known places in the world where a type of rare plant grows - not actually a fungus, but somewhat resembling a black mushroom. The Knights of Saint John jealously protected the rock during their control of the archipelago, and thought that the plant (which they named "Maltese Mushroom," and is now called Cynomorium) had powerful medicinal qualities. They built a rickety cable car basket from the nearby cliffs to the top of the islet, and smoothed the sides of the rock to discourage thieves of the plant - it was thought, at the time, to be unique to Fungus Rock, and the Knights treated it like a treasure.
On a walk, also near Xlendi, we found these old salt trays. At least, we think that's what they are. Among them, cut into the rock, was an open cistern that drained a cupped slope of limestone into a shallow pool. The water there was sweet, but these square, dry indentations had a thin powder of salt at the bottom.

Malta is beautiful, but much of the main island is clogged with buildings and motorways. Escaping across the channel to Gozo feels like going to the country, even if it's only a relative sense of calm.

If you go to the Azure Window, make sure to clamber around the rocks, down to the shore and along a narrow path towards the arch. There's a hidden, small cave there, where the view of the Window is spectacular. The sound of the surf against the rocks is amplified by the hollow, and the waves come almost right up to the floor of the cavern. When we were there, two young Gozitan couples sat drinking beer and staring out at the dramatic scene. For a while we were alone with them. Then a few Spanish tourists showed up and we left.

Here's a video of our trip back through the cave from the open water into the Inland Sea. We were alone on the boat except for its reticent pilot and a french woman.

Xlendi Bay, Home Sweet Home

On the corner of Xlendi Bay, where the main road from Victoria meets the waterfront line of restaurants, we feel like we can predict the future. That corner white and blue building above is where we rented an apartment. The rhythm of the waves heard from our window in the morning tells us what kind of weather the day will bring, before we even leave bed. A loud group making their way down from the bus stop in the late afternoon means the restaurants won't clear their oil+vinegar sets from the tables quite as soon as they'd planned. A certain boisterous laugh made us know, immediately, that it was a group of Americans. Perhaps likening it to clairvoyance is a bit of a stretch, but we feel a bit ahead of the town's rhythmic ebb and flow.
We awake to the fishermen going out, and it feels like it is only us and them that have opened their eyes to the day just yet. When we hear them come in, we know that it is time to take our trash down to the curbside for 8:30 collection. By this time, the diving school students have arrived and made black constellations in the blue green water below our patio. So has the Xlendi Pleasure Cruise boat, a small compact thing that sits waiting patiently for any biters. The sound of the garbage truck signals a final check of our backpacks and we make our way out to catch the 8:45 bus to Valletta. Without ever once looking at a watch.
Xlendi Bay sits and waits for people to arrive and enjoy it. In our seven days here, we have not been able to figure out the business hours of any establishment. They all seem to run according to the same principal as us; when you hear the day come out your window, you better get up and ready. If we are home during the day, we have a truly Pavlovian response to the clinking of utensils being set out on the tables below. We fix ourselves a sandwich and smell pizza and pasta wafting upwards to our patio. In the evening, the clinking begs us to uncork our wine and plate whatever we've made. At least once a night, we hear a rendition of Happy Birthday from below.
Xlendi is a place for special occasions and daytrippers. But mostly daytrippers. They lap onto shores like waves. We feel like the thin line of current that shines in the bay - that last mark of arrival when all other incomers are long gone. Daytrippers, or "afternooners" more precisely, announce their purpose more than they realize they do. Backpacks and sensible shoes mean that they want to climb the white staircase that zig zags up the cliff. Then, come down and around to the tower. Afterward, they get a treat from Gelateria Granola and/or sit for lunch. The click of high heels hitting the pavement out of a parked Jeep Tour vehicle, tells us that they are going to skip the hike and go straight to lunching. Souvenir stalls open, selling thick knit sweaters you hope you won't need and thin Maltese flag beach towels that you purchase optimistically. (Ours will leave this country with us, unused).
The Boathouse Restaurant is the first to open and the last to close. Churchill, on the opposite side of the bay, is sporadic at best. We were told about both by a woman from whom's minimart we bought our necessities in Valletta. When she described The Boathouse as being on one side of the bay and Churchill as being on the other, we hadn't really thought that they were as close to each other as they were. "They are both great. Or anything in between. It's all good!" she'd said. Moby Dick restaurant and bar was right below us, where these British women ate smoked salmon salads. When we arrived without a cell phone and saw a sign to "call upon arrival" on our door, the proprietor of Moby Dick gave our landlord a ring as we drank coffee. When we left, he gave us a business card with a wink. He also had rental apartments available. No hard feelings.
That first afternoon, as we waited, a very tan man who had initially asked if we needed a cab kept checking up on us. As we sat and waited, two huge groups of high schoolers on Spring Break occupied Xlendi Bay. A French group raucously swam and pantsed each other as they changed back out of their bathing suits. A Spanish group sat along the water's edge, chain-smoking and texting. Sunglasses on. These two lovebirds snuck away to a cave and jumped a little when we came clomping in our boots.
It is a beautiful bay with nooks and crannies, old churches and limestone cliffs. The modern buildings may be a little bit of an eyesore, but the laidbackness counteracts them perfectly. The water is clear and full of fish. In fact, we really wonder if the Maltese Scuba School we saw advertised on a flyer back in our St. Petersburg schoolhouse was here. We'd seriously considered signing up, but thought that it'd be difficult to blog underwater. It's amazing to think that we may have wound up right here, in the same apartment, in the same village, having made an entirely different decision.
At night, when everyone is gone, the bay transforms back into its most natural state. A few lights, illuminate the road on one side and the staircase on the other, but those will turn off eventually. The sunsets are as spectacular as the sunrises. All we hear is the water out our windows. Home Sweet Xlendi.

Gypsy Kitchens: Gozitan Stewed Rabbit With Green Sauce

Though it's that time of year, this isn't an Easter recipe.

The Maltese love fenek. Rabbit, that is. In the old days, when Malta and Gozo were isolated and poor, there was very little meat other than rabbit, which they used to catch in the wild. Today, it's mostly farmed, but it remains as popular as ever - there are even special parties, called fenkata, held at tiny bars. We decided to try out a traditional Gozitan preparation, stewing the meat in olives and red wine to keep it tender. It went particularly well with another Maltese peculiarity - the island's bread based, herby green sauce, which is more starchy side dish than condiment.
The butcher we bought the rabbit from asked if we wanted it pieced or whole. Initially, we told him we'd take it whole - but he was very suspicious. Eventually, he decided it would be best if the thing was dismembered and began hacking. We stopped him before the back was cut apart, but not before he'd taken the head off and neatly split it open. With the meat came the liver and two other small organs, which we discarded. Too many rabbit livers in restaurants - they're tasty, but not great stewing meat.

Rabbit meat is very lean, and so it's important to cook it carefully, as it can get tough. First, we marinaded the meat in red wine. Also in the marinade were two onions, some garlic, a handful of mint, a handful of parsley, four or five sprigs of thyme and a few pinches of Maltese rabbit seasoning (we don't use a lot of pre-made rubs or seasonings, but this local "Tiger Brand Rabbit Seasoning" was too interesting to pass up - very curry centric).

Marinade it at room temperature for about two hours, or longer in the refrigerator. Use a full bottle of wine.

While the meat is being soaked, make the green sauce. Zalza Ħadra is one of Maltese cuisine's oldest and vaguest recipes. In Apicuis' De Re Coquinaria, an ancient cookbook said to have been compiled in the late 4th or early 5th century, the recipe simply says to take some "Alexandrian" bread, dunk in water and vinegar, put in a mortar with honey, mint, salted cow's milk and oil and then place in a container over snow. Since then, the recipe has maintained its basic method of soaking crustless bread in water and vinegar and mixing it, in a mortar, with at least one green thing.
We went with a derivation of a recipe from the 1908 Maltese cookbook Ctieb Tal-Chcina. Soak two thick slices of crustless Maltese bread (any country loaf will do) in water and vinegar. Smoosh out as much liquid as you can and then pound with two cloves of crushed garlic, a few capers, chopped parsley, mint and rocket. Add the greens in as you go so you can really get a lot in there. We wanted to use the very popular local herb marjoram - but it's so popular that it's always sold out. Once done working that pestle, cover with olive oil and refrigerate. Mix before serving.
About fifteen minutes before cooking, preheat the oven to 325° (fahrenheit) and get together the other ingredients. Cut a few good strips of lemon rind, strip (or cube, if you prefer) three or four carrots, drain olives and capers. Capers are extremely popular here, Malta's famous for them. Use the best green olives you can find - we could have found better ones. We used a spoonful of coarse mustard, but that's not really traditional. If you have a bay leaf, of course it would go well.
Remove the pieces of rabbit from the wine (but keep the marinade!) and let semi-dry while you heat oil in a frying pan. Brown the meat well and quickly, using high heat and making sure to get as much of the surface cooked as possible. Don't leave the rabbit in too long, though - this should only take about five minutes. Put the meat back into the marinade and add the other ingredients (carrots, olives, lemon peel, etc...) and salt. Cover and bring everything to a boil on the stove top, cooking for about five minutes. Then remove to the oven.
This is a picture of the pan BEFORE cooking, not after.

Bake the whole thing, covered, for between one and half and two and a half hours - ours took a little longer because the stove we were working with isn't great. The meat will be pretty firm when it's done, and will be coming off the bone. Check regularly - you don't want to overcook it.

We served the rabbit with the olives and carrots, with the green sauce alongside and none of the cooking liquid. If you'd like, you could certainly thicken the juices and wine and make a very nice, more traditional stew or sauce. The green sauce was herby and a great accompaniment, though, with a lightness and freshness that served the stewed meat very well.

Here are the recipes:

Gozitan Stewed Rabbit and Maltese Green Sauce

For the rabbit,

Ingredients:

1 rabbit, pieced and cleaned

1 bottle red wine, uncorked

2 onions, chopped

5 cloves garlic, sliced

4 carrots, peeled and stripped

3/4 cup green olives

2 - 4 tablespoons small capers

4 - 6 sprigs fresh thyme

1 handful fresh mint, lightly chopped

1 handful fresh parsley, chopped

1 tablespoon mustard

Olive oil or other good cooking oil

Ground black pepper, perhaps a bay leaf, salt

Process:

- Marinade the rabbit in red wine in a large roasting tray or a deep casserole. Into the wine, scatter herbs, onion and garlic. Grind pepper into the mix. Cover and let sit 2 hours at room temperature, or longer in the refrigerator, up to 24 hours.

- Preheat the oven to 160° fahrenheit. Assemble other ingredients.

- Remove the rabbit from its bath, retaining marinade. Let dry for a few minutes, then fry quickly in oil over high heat until browned but nowhere close to cooked. Return to marinade.

- Bring the liquid (with the rabbit in it) to a boil on the stovetop and let simmer for about five minutes, then cover and put into the oven.

- Cook between 1 1/2 hours and 2 1/2 hours, checking for doneness and making sure not to overcook. When the rabbit is nicely firm and definitely falling away from the bone, it's likely done, but check to make sure just in case.

For the green sauce,

Ingredients:

2 thick slices crusty country bread

2 cloves garlic, crushed

2 cups mixed herbs (parsley, rucola and mint - but feel free to add in other greens on hand)

1 tablespoon capers

Olive oil

White vinegar

Salt

Process:

-Remove the crust from your bread slices and let soak in water with a splash of vinegar for a few minutes.

-While that soaks, chop your herbs and crush your garlic.

-Remove bread and squeeze until as much liquid as possible is wrung out. This will turn into a gloppy mash. Don't get too preoccupied with getting it "dry." You just don't want it sopping.

-Put bread, garlic, capers and a quarter of your herbs into a mortar and mash.

-Continue to add herbs until they are all mixed in.

-Salt, cover with olive oil and set aside in the refrigerator.

-Stir before serving. Check out all of our recipes.