Wine trails and a delightful surprise

When I visited the Pfalz region of Germany, I especially enjoyed the wines. The Rieslings are crisp, not cloying, the Spätburgunder is as fine as a good Pinot Noir, and the sparkling Sekt is equal in quality to French champagne.

19th century sparkling wineWine-making is so ubiquitous to the culture and lifestyle of the Pfalz, the entire cellar of the Bad Dürkheim Heimatsmuseum is dedicated to a viticulture exhibit. The rack shown here is an example of the traditional method of fermenting champagne. According to the Heimatsmuseum curator, it was an iffy proposition — 10- to 20-percent of the bottles could be counted on to explode, the champagne wasted.

Wines from the Bad Dürkheim region were exported to Cleveland in the 19th century, thanks to the Dürkheimer wine-makers George and John Fitz and a Cleveland wine importer named Leick of Kirchheimbolanden. (Apparently Leick and his brother married the Hege sisters from Dürkheim, so a connection was made.)

In particular, the Fitz brothers produced the 1848 Dürkheimer Firemountain label especially for export. Records show the wine was also exported to New York City, Cleveland and New York City being areas with high Palatine immigrant populations. While the year on a label normally indicates the vintage, in this case, all wines carried this year. The year 1848 was a reference to the 1848 Revolution for democracy, the Fitz brothers reaching out in solidarity to exiles forced to immigrate to America after the revolution was crushed. It’s not clear how long the 1848 label lasted. But wine exports continued until Prohibition  brought an end to the once lucrative trade.

These days, the Mosel region seems to dominate German wine imports to the U.S. However, I recently stumbled on a delightful surprise. The Fitz wine-makers of Bad Dürkheim are still in business. Now called the Fitz-Ritter Winery, the history of their revolutionary 19th century activities is even posted proudly on their website:

SEKT – SPARKLING WINE WITH DEMOCRATIC ROOTS

In 1837, the Fitz estate founded the first “Champagne“ Production in the Palatinate (second in all of Germany). Johannes Fitz, known as “the Red Fitz,” had imported the necessary know-how from the Champagne region of France which had been his exile home following his activity for the German Democracy movement at the Hambach Festival in 1832.

Five years later the first „Palatine Champagne“ emerged from the Bad Dürkheim winery.  …Just as it was back then, today the Sektkellerei Fitz (Sekt is the German word for sparkling wine) still produces “Sekt” from Burgundy and Riesling wines by traditional bottle fermentation.

No wonder the Fitz wine-makers reached out to those suffering exile in 1848–John Fitz had been an exile himself in 1832. I checked into it, and the Fitz-Ritter wines are again being exported to the U.S. Oh happy day!

Heimatsmuseum viticulture display

Turning rebar into art

Last week I had the good fortune to meet up with blacksmith friend Bruce Weakly for an afternoon of fun at his workshop. Behind me there is his new forge, a Tabasco one-burner. Very nice.

blacksmithing on whidbey leafWhat’s that I’m hammering away at? An old piece of rebar. Yup. My skills were as rusty as the metal, but at the end of three hours, I managed to craft this leaf. I’m still carrying it around in my pocket, rubbing it like a good luck charm as the launch of The Last of the Blacksmiths comes ever closer. One month and counting.

Here’s an initial line-up of events:

February 15, 2-6 p.m.: Launch party at The Stables in Georgetown

February 19, 7 p.m.: Whidbey Island Community Education Center

February 25, 1:30 p.m.: Coupeville Library Book Talk and Signing

March 9, 4-6 p.m.: Island Books Talk and Signing, Mercer Island

I’ve got a bunch more stuff in the works, so stay tuned.

Hermann Sinsheimer

sinsheimer houseOn any visit to Freinsheim, Germany, one of the first stops on the “wall walk,” a tour of the narrow corridor that rings the old inner wall, is always at the former home of Hermann Sinsheimer. I snapped this photo of the house (if you look closely, you’ll see the resident cat in the window) and the accompanying stone-etched plaque that adorns the facade on my first day in Freinsheim in September, 2010. Roughly translated, the plaque reads:

The lawyer, writer, and journalist Hermann Sinsheimer was born in this house on the 6th of March 1883. His passion for theater and literature before 1933 drove him to write what he observed of German cultural life. Also, what he wrote in exile was influenced by his happy childhood in Freinsheim. He died far from home, in London, in 1950.

A more complete write-up of the life of Hermann Sinsheimer can be found here, at the AJR (Association of Jewish Refugees) Journal.

While Herman Sinsheimer has languished in obscurity for decades, of late, several books have been published of his work. One is the letters of Hermann Sinsheimer, written while he was in England back to his friend Frida Schaffner in Freinsheim. Dr. Hans-Helmut Görtz edited these letters with Erik and Gabriele Giersberg. They’ve been published in a comprehensive book Briefe aus England in die Pfalz. The book (768 p., hardcover, many photographs) is edited by the Stiftung zur Förderung der Pfälzischen Geschichtsforschung in Neustadt an der Weinstraße. It costs 49 Euros. Whoever is interested in buying a copy should send Dr. Görtz an email at hhgoertz@t-online.de.

Another book, just released and available on Amazon-UK, is an uncensored release of Sinsheimer’s 1953 autobiography Gelebt Im Paradies, published in 2013 by Deborah Vietor-Engländer. This book includes Sinsheimer’s childhood reminiscences, his reflections on anti-Semitism, on accounts of his days in Munich and Berlin, and of living in exile with fellow German Jewish refugees in England during and after the war. The book is available here: Amazon.co.UK.

The book jacket reads (translated from the German):
Hermann Sinsheimer (1883-1950), theater director, theater critic, editor of Simplicissimus and editor of the Berliner Tageblatt, wrote his autobiography “Gelebt im Paradies” in the Palatinate, in Munich and later in Berlin, completing it during his exile in England starting in 1938. In the book, he provides portraits of his contemporaries, from Erich Mühsam to Joachim Ringelnatz, from Alfred Kerr to Frank Wedekind.

Was Germany once a paradise? In Sinsheimer’s youth in the Palatinate, certainly, but in retrospect in exile Sinsheimer also reveals the fullness of the paradise lost he suffered during his years in Munich and Berlin, the destruction he witnessed, and his insights and memories of historical events.

Lived in Paradise is a first release, because here the text kept out of the 1953 imprint has been returned in its original, uncensored form, to properly stock the shelves of German literature. Sinsheimer’s autobiographical essay Deutschland, not included previously, is a document free of hate, a reflection of the exile as he considers German thinking of tomorrow. This text is published here for the first time in German. The political writer reflects on what happened, why the Germans could have done what they did, driving the Jews, including large parts of the scientific and artistic intelligentsia, out of the country. In 1942, Sinsheimer asks: What should be done after the war with Germany is lost?

Yes, the book is in German, but if you dare, I highly recommend delving into the observations and insights of this thoughtful, courageous man.

Sleigh rides

My grandmother was a young girl in Cleveland in the 1890s. One of her favorite memories of that time was winter sleigh rides, her parents tucking her into the sleigh seat with a lap robe and fur coat, her hands toasty in a beaverskin muff. I imagine her sleigh rides were more staid than this scene in a Currier and Ives print I saw recently on display at the Museum of the City of New York. This one is called “A Brush for the Lead: New York ‘Flyers’ on the Snow” by artist Thomas Worth. The image, poorly rendered by my non-flash camera in the museum, is still “Christmas-y” enough that I wanted to share it.

Currier and Ives New York Flyers on the snow

Of course, nothing is ever idyllic as it first sounds. There were inherent dangers, just like our car accidents today. Here is “‘A Spill Out’ on the Snow” done in 1874.

Currier & Ives "A Spill Out on the Snow" 1876

Happy holidays. Stay warm.

Grape juice taste test results

grape juice

I tasted the grape juice on Thanksgiving (and coerced some others into sampling it with me), serving it in the very same glasses Grandmother used to use.

As I unsealed the mason jars, I had my doubts there would be any taste to these juices at all, especially the white grape juice. As you can see, it had none of the color found in store-bought white grape juice.

Lo and behold, it turned out the “blush” grape juice was the variety with next to no flavor — the blush variety comes from the Suffolk table grape — really, it tasted more like sugar water. The white grape juice, on the other hand, had a nice full flavor, recognizable as grape juice. We’re not sure what the grape is, but someone in the tasting room suggested Muscatel.

Is it grape juice yet?

recipe canned grape juiceAs a child, one of my favorite treats at the holidays was home-made grape juice. My Grandmother always had some ready . While the adults were mixing their gin and tonics, she’d carefully hold the mason jar and pour out kid-sized glasses of rich purple juice.

The split-skinned grapes lurking at the bottom of the jar didn’t frighten me. I was used to them — to me, it was store-bought, grapeless grape juice that seemed strange.

This year, when my friend Deb sent me home with grapes from her arbor, I had a sudden inspiration to try making my grandmother’s canned grape juice. Of course, these grapes are not the variety Grandmother would have used. She would insist on Concord grapes, which Dad used to buy for her in late summer by the bushel basket at a roadside farm stand.

But what recipe did she use? Looking through her old card file, I couldn’t locate it, so I turned to “The Mennonite Community Cookbook.” They had several options to choose from. I have no idea if this one is even close. I went for it because it’s the recipe that sealed the grapes inside the jar.

recipe mennonite grape juice

Witness the results in the picture above. Is it grape juice yet? This Thanksgiving, we’re about to find out.

Carriage relics and amusement rides

I’ve been following the posts at The Slower Road, a blog by the Carriage Association of America chronicling a trip of members who have been touring antique carriages all over Argentina.

The photos have reminded me how old carriages can appear in the most unlikely places, at the most unexpected times. I was just beginning research on my novel about a 19th century blacksmith and carriage maker, The Last of the Blacksmiths, when our family made a high school graduation trip with our daughter to Knott’s Berry Farm — for the amusement park rides, mind you.

But surprise, surprise, Mom got a kick out of it, too. And a leg up on my research. Knott’s Berry Farm’s Old West town and museum kept me happily preoccupied, along with the relics of old carriages everywhere I turned, mixed right in with the roller coaster rides. Even hearses, the irony of which was not lost on me as I waited in line to take the Rip Tide and the Supreme Scream.

Knott's Berry Farm wagon

Wagon interior
Enormous conestoga wagon
Conestoga wagon
Black hearse
White hearse
Wells Fargo wagon
Surrey
Youngstown fire engine from 1853

Traveling musicians of the 19th century

art music bandBrowsing through photos of my visit to Germany a few years ago, I came across this image of a traveling music band, a photo I took of a display at the Culture House Museum in Bad Dürkheim.

lichtenberg castleThe scene reminded me of a wonderful museum I visited during my travels: the Pfälzer Musikantenland-Museum in Kusel at the Burg Lichtenberg. It’s a stunning setting, a former castle that’s now something of a village, with shops, a dining hall and a family and youth hostel guest house.

At the Musikantenland Museum, I picked up a flyer that provided “A Little Bit of History.”

The western Palatinate (primarily the area comprised by the former Bavarian Rhine Landkommissariate of Kusel, Hornburg, Kaiserslautern and Kirchheim), known as “Musician Country” is one of the few regions of the German-speaking cultural world with a tradition of itinerant musicians or Wandermusikanten.

After the Palatinate attained freedom from French occupation in the era of Napoleon (1797-1814), one encounters the vocational description of musician more and more often in western Palatinate archives. The freedom from guild obligations allowed a considerable number of local popular musicians to make a living from their natural talents. Economic causes (overpopulation, famine, bad harvests in the poor soil of the western Palatinate, similar to the reasons which drove many people from the Palatinate to emigrate to America in the 19th century) were also responsible for the first travels of musicians around 1830. They traveled first to neighboring countries (France, Switzerland) or to other German states (Prussia), then to the rest of Europe (Spain, Holland, the British Isles, Scandinavia, Russia etc.) and finally — after the middle of the century — literally to the entire civilized world.

After thorough practice during the winter, these western Palatinate musicians set out in the spring and remained away until fall, if they were seeking to make their living in Europe, or came home after two, three, or more years if they traveled overseas.

In the prime years around the turn of the century, approximagely 2,500 musicians were traveling about, earning the considerable sum of many millions of gold-marks annually.

The Musikantenland Museum at Burg Lichtenberg houses not only instruments, uniforms, and so on, but also souvenirs the men carried back from their travels. More information about the itinerant bands (and their demise) can be found at a brief history of Itinerant Musicians.

Holiday recipe for Lebkuchen

Emma Hoppensack PattersonMy German American grandmother outlived the rest of my grandparents by twenty years. Emma Hoppensack Patterson was born in 1891 and died in 1987. In her entire 96 years she never learned to drive and hence, spent most days at home, refining to perfection the duties of a home-maker–cooking, cleaning, sewing and laundry.

I still remember when Dad read out my grandmother’s Last Will and Testament, the whole family gathered in her oddly vacant living room. Items in her Will revealed her earthly cares. To me, she bequeathed her sewing machine and sewing basket. To my sister-in-law, she bequeathed her recipes.

In the past few years as I’ve researched family history, I started wondering about those recipes. Grandmother used to can grape juice out of concord grapes, a taste store-bought grape juice is never able to replicate. Could that recipe be in her files? Are any of the recipes handed down from her German immigrant grandparents?

Recently, my sister-in-law and brother were kind enough to send me copies from the recipe box, recipes for cakes, sauces, pickles, blackberry and cherry wine. To add to my delight, several of the recipes are noted as being from Lucy Hoppensack and Grandmother Harm, from Emma’s mother and her mother’s mother.

LebkuchenThis September, my German relatives Angela and Carlotta visited Seattle and brought me an early Christmas gift — Lebkuchen cookies. “We make it a rule not to eat these until Christmas,” Angela said. “But they’re selling them already in the stores.” I opened the package and bit into one, the taste redolent of cinnamon and cloves. It only took a moment to remember where I’d eaten these before: my grandmother baked these cookies every Christmas.

Leafing through her carefully hand-scripted recipes, I found them.

Lebkuchen
1 c. molasses
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup melted shortening
1 c. warm water
4-1/2 cups flour
1 tsp soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp cloves
1 tsp cinnamon
salt

Frost with 1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar and 3 Tbsp. water

The card doesn’t provide further instruction. No doubt she chilled the dough several hours or overnight, rolled it out, cut the cookies into circles, then baked them about 12 minutes at 350 degrees. I remember watching her frost them when they had just come out of the oven. Yum.

Come Christmas, I’m definitely giving it a try.

World on Wheels

I always dreamed of being a writer, but somehow imagined the profession would mainly involve writing. As in, sitting alone at a desk all day scrawling words on a page. Dreaming up stories to tell, and telling them the best way I knew how. Now that I’m actually pursuing my dream, I’m figuring out there’s a whole lot more to it.

Specifically, the journey. In just a few months my book The Last of the Blacksmiths will become a physical reality (available February 15, 2014), but I’m beginning to understand it’s not just about the book. It’s equally about the journey, all the things that have led up to the moment when the book hits store shelves. The days and weeks and months and years of writing, but also of learning things and meeting people and experiencing the unimaginable.

For instance, back in May of 2011 as I was frantically finishing up my MFA thesis based on 19th century Cleveland wagon makers, I sought the assistance of a professor of history at Bluefield College, Thomas A. Kinney. I had come upon his book The Carriage Trade and couldn’t believe how beautifully it filled huge gaps in my knowledge of 19th century carriage-making. So I emailed to thank him, and to ask him a question or two, and the correspondence has continued ever since.

World on Wheels biennial publicationThe most recent communication arrived via snail mail just yesterday: a marvelous letter from him, as well as a publication by the Carriage Association of America called World on Wheels Number 4 2013: Studies in the Manufacture, History, Use, Conservation, And Restoration Of Horse-drawn Vehicles. The lead article is by Dr. Kinney, a piece called “Looking Back at Horse-drawn Commercial Vehicles.” The article includes not only mention of Michael Harm of Harm & Schuster Fine Carriages of Cleveland, but also two of my family’s antique photos, one of the Harm & Schuster carriage works and one of the men who worked there. World on Wheels also includes terrific articles about carriages and gender, about Holy Roman and Habsburg carriages, about royal coaches and European Harness Horses. Interested? Order one here.

world on wheels photo page

Opening the package, I got goosebumps as I realized how much more full of such rewards my life has become since starting this project. In our original email correspondence back in May 2011, Dr. Kinney wrote: “One of the pleasures of writing for publication is the often surprising responses it elicits from people one would never otherwise know.” Hear hear. My head spins with delight like a world on wheels.