Author: lisa

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Traveling to Chaos

Why do you travel?

I travel to grow.

Of course, it’s about seeing new things, experiencing other cultures, seeking out interesting food and wine, but at its core, travel, for me, is a way to observe myself in another context.

And, if I’m lucky, find new ways to thrive.

My recent six-day February trip to Barcelona, a winter antidote to rainy, cold Berlin was made possible through the kindness of a winemaker friend I met in November 2022 at the RAW wine fair in Berlin. Blanca invited me to stay in her mother’s seldomly lived in three -bedroom apartment near Barcelona’s Villa Olimpica Beach.

Blanca Ozcáriz Raventós, of El Jardi dels Sentits in Penedès, is a veteran biodynamic winemaker with her own vineyards and her own strong view on how to make wine that is true to its place. She is a woman who eschews conventional life – morning coffee, WiFi (it’s okay if you have it, but not critical to her) and the comforts of say, a big fancy winery.

In fact, when she said to her father over two decades ago that she wanted to work with grapes from the family’s 10 hectares of well-situated land that have been in the family for nearly 200 hundred years, he built her a winery. But, in true Blanca style, she stayed true to herself and politely declined to use it. It was too big, too new. It didn’t have the heart and soul she craved. So, many years after he died, the building remains unused.

Today, Blanca is putting the final touches on the winery she feels proud to call her own. She found (through a Google search!) a six-hundred-year old former Benedictine Monastery in Sant Sebastià dels Gorgs, across the hill from her own vineyards, which she has renovated and where I had the chance to visit this week and taste through her idiosyncratic, soulful wines.

Last Sunday, the day of my arrival, Blanca and I had agreed that I would meet her at the Barcelona Wine Week fair venue so I could help her carry wine into the space. We had organized the meeting for about 7 pm, giving me plenty of time to pick up my checked bag and grab the bus from the airport to Plaça d’Espanya. (super easy and affordable, btw). I was early, and texted Blanca. The response was “please find a place to grab a coffee, we forgot to label some of the wine for the fair. I’m going to be about an hour late.”

Welcome to the 24/7 life of a one-woman-small independent winery. It’s a never-ending race to get it all done.

And, it was this kind of chaotic rhythm that set the pace for the visit. A constant degree of spontaneity, aliveness, freedom from schedules — from a linear way of living.

The next morning, after searching for a place to find my morning cortado (no coffee pot in the apartment); a long sun-filled walk along the seashore; a few deep breaths about living without WiFi for 6 days, my shoulders dropped and I began to relax.  

My “get it right, be on time, have a plan, live in a straight line-ness” evaporated and I realized it was this sense of roll-with-the-punches that gave way to an extraordinary travel week. I learned to live comfortably with a degree of chaos.

It was through this openness and spontaneous gateway that the trip unfolded. We shared beautiful moments like arriving at the family house and entering the atrium while Blanca’s mother, María Asunción Raventós, treasured Catalonian artist who is now 93, was quietly painting with her caretaker from Ghana.  (See photo)

Thank you Blanca for sharing the wisdom of your ways and the fun week in Barcelona.

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I Love Rutabaga

Rutabaga is like the last kid to be chosen for kickball. It’s not a vegetable that typically evokes emotion but when I was a child I became a super-fan. My grandmother BeBe, from Ireland’s County Kerry, served it in a rough mash, braided with butter, seasoned with lots of salt and pepper.

I know it’s unusual at Sunday supper to lust for rutabaga instead of mashed potatoes but I appreciated its bitterness and crunchy texture. It had more flavor, somehow. I didn’t understand it as complexity at the time. All I knew was it was both sweet and bitter and that it was dynamite when I had it with her caramelized pieces of lean pork roast.

The other day, I noticed a purple and orange root settled next to the mixer on my bread rack. Its waxed skin wrinkling. I was making homemade chicken stock and I thought, hmmm. I wonder if I could dice that and add it to the leek, chicken, and kale soup I was winging?

Earlier in the day I had watched Alton Brown’s video on making chicken stock, because the few times I have made it, I never wound up with something that had any savory depth of flavor. With no real plan for the stock other than adding what was in the crisper to make some soup, it occurred to me I could chop up the rutabaga and toss it in. But, I have never had rutabaga in soup. I wondered, was there something terrible that happens when you add this modest tuber to soup? Does it make it unpleasant? Add off-flavors? Makes it watery?

The stock simmered for six and a half hours. The whole house was scented with roast chicken, onion, carrot and bay. Once chilled, and after a night in the refrigerator, the stock was the epitome of a well-made fancy hotel bed – layers of crisp sheets and bedding combining to provide a luxurious foundation. Definitely worth the risk of tossing in rutabaga. And now I may have something new to crave on Sundays.

Rutabaga, Kale, Leek and Chicken Soup

4 servings

Ingredients

2.5 quarts chicken stock (half of Alton Brown’s recipe, i.e. one chicken carcass instead of two) https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/chicken-stock-recipe-1914051

1 tablespoon butter

1 medium sized leek, cut off the dark green part, thoroughly clean, halve length-wise and slice cross-wise

I bunch Lacinato kale, washed. Cut off the stems and slice into half inch strips

I half medium sized rutabaga, peeled and diced into half inch pieces

8 ounces pieces of chicken, torn into small pieces

1/4 serrano pepper, seeded and diced into small pieces

¼ cup dry vermouth

Half cup grated parmesan cheese

In a medium size sauté pan, over medium heat add the butter. Once melted, add the chopped leeks and sauté for 5-7 minutes until softened and lightly browned. Remove from heat.

Pour the chicken stock into a pot and put over medium heat. Add chicken pieces, leeks, sliced kale, diced rutabaga, serrano pepper and vermouth. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Cook over medium heat until rutabaga is tender but not mushy (approximate 15-20 minutes). Ladle into bowls and sprinkle with parmesan cheese.

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Thoughts on Sound in Crisis

Mason workers started today at 8 AM outside my window to continue their work pointing the building. It was the sound of normalcy and I loved every high-pitched humm.

I remember the silence in Greenwich Village on September 11th, 2001. No honking, no braking buses, no street chatter. The quiet at Berlin’s Tegel airport on Friday, March 13th was familiar. We stood solemnly in lines snaking around the airport to check luggage and go through passport control. Transactions took place at whisper level. 

The most powerful silence lasted nine hours. No one talked on the flight to Newark. Suffering babies blasted us with cries but that was it. We were glued to our screens, sanitizing our seat-backs, washing our hands, quietly panicking as we prayed to arrive safely into a new normal. 

But today, as I was awakened by the sound of granite grinding at the hands of workmen outside my bedroom, I felt a sense relief. Typically, I’d be pissed. How could I be the lucky one to have my line of apartments worked on just as the 14-day self-isolation was only in its 3rd day (since I traveled from Germany, I’m in this camp)?

But I feel comforted.

The COVID-19 crisis is so terrifying that the loud grinder noise is welcome. These are guys just doing a job on a Monday morning. The work means they will get a paycheck. It means things are not all grinding to a halt. 

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Guest Post – We’re All On the Same Path

Green Lake, Seattle

By Rachel Chittick

We are coming up on 8 weeks since the first US case of coronavirus was confirmed just north of where I sit in Seattle. In that time, the stress and hysteria seem to have begun doubling about as fast as the virus itself. Adults are working from home or heading to workplaces that can’t be run remotely with an ever-increasing sense of caution. Students are stuck at home unable to be with their friends and without all the fun benefits of a snow day. Tourist destinations, event venues, restaurants and places of worship are all struggling to adapt to the new reality, either moving online or shutting their doors altogether. The highways are empty but so are the grocery store and drugstore shelves.

As you can guess, people here, as around the country, are on edge. We are all feeling uninformed and unprepared, threatened and protective, inconvenienced and angry. What all that really means is that we are afraid, and the feeling is so intense that it is sometimes hard to tell whether the tightness in my chest is a sign of anxiety or a symptom of respiratory illness (which of course takes me right back to scared).

This morning I went out for a walk to burn off some of the crazy. It was 35 degrees and a strong wind made it feel even colder, yet the Green Lake bike path was packed, at some points making it hard to maintain the magic 6 ft bubble. Clearly, we were all looking for an outlet for our stress.  I was furious with all these people for being out in public and not taking the guidance about social distancing seriously. Yes, I was on the path too, but in my view, my silent rant, anger, and judgment absolved me of any guilt. Though I didn’t express my fury verbally, my face is not one to hide a thought or feeling, and I’m sure my ire was visible.

Ahead I saw two families, clearly, friends, approach each other. A woman in one group yelled to the other group in jest “Hey, you’re not supposed to be walking with other people.” Her lighthearted humor sat there in stark contrast to my inner enforcer’s rant. It stopped me in my tracks, and it made me think of an Instagram video I’d watched earlier in the day by the writer, Elizabeth Gilbert.

Admitting to some overreacting of her own, Gilbert shared that when texting her family that she was returning early from her travels due to the coronavirus, she’d initially done so with a great sense of panic and heightened language. But when she read her words before hitting send she thought, “Is this how I want to be talking right now? There is enough trauma in the world right now. Do I need to add drama?” Mindfully changing her words before sending, to simply state the facts, she decided she didn’t want to add to people’s stress and panic but rather wanted to be a calming influence. I think that’s good guidance. We should all be mindful of what our words (and also our faces) communicate with the people around us. We are all scared and uncertain, and I for one plan keep in mind a mantra I borrowed from Brené Brown, “try to be scared without being scary.”

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One Cool Thing – Uniformed Tradespeople

Ok, I guess I’m one of those girls who does love a man in a uniform. And they are everywhere in Berlin! All tradesmen/women wear these kinds of jumpsuits. Not sure if it’s because it seems old-school but I find this tradition charming. To me, it signals a level of professionalism and quality service. 

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One Cool Thing – Getting around Berlin

train station, underground, subway, metro station, Berlin, Germany

Berlin has a monthly subway card for non-rush hour travel. A regular single card is 2.80 € but the monthly card (if you don’t need to commute during rush hour) is only 56.00 € – I’m just blown away by that value.

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One Cool Thing – Learning German in Berlin

Image: © Ebba Dangschat via Berlin Volkshochschule

 

Today’s One Cool Thing is about Berlin’s multi-culti student mix at the local community college.

The Berlin Volkshochschule (Berlin Community College) offers intensive German classes and the real sweet part isn’t the quality of the curriculum or the affordability. It’s the multicultural aspect of the class. We have twenty students representing seventeen countries.

There is a sweetness and openness in the class that gives me hope.

Classmates are from:

Australia

Romania

France

Syria

Turkey

South Korea

China

Venezuela

Argentina

Thailand

Iran

Cuba

Afghanistan

USA

England

Poland

Taiwan

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One Cool Thing – Berlin’s Art Lending Library

Self-portrait by Ursula Cyriax. Photo by @lisadonoughe

 

Welcome to my one cool thing blog series about Berlin.

Did you know that Berlin has a contemporary art lending library for locals?

The n.b.k. Artothek allows Berlin residents (with proper registration) to “borrow” original pieces of art for one Euro per piece per month. That’s just over a US dollar per month to borrow an original art work by a Berlin artist.

The maximum number of works one can borrow every ninety days is six. My apartment has gone from awkward huge white walls to a gallery-like, warm and interesting space. The investment was twenty bucks.