FOREIGN HOME

CHRONICLE: VIENNA, AUSTRIA MARCH 2018-SEPTEMBER 2019

From March 2018 until August 2019, I called Vienna, Austria home. I moved there to reunite with my husband after a three-year separation. I had never lived outside of the U.S., had no friends or family in Vienna, and spoke zero German.

Does this sound like a recipe for disaster or the perfect setting for the 2.0 version of my 30 plus year marriage?

You might think I’m crazy, but caraway seeds, Kümmel in German, had a lot to do with making my surroundings feel less alien, the beginning of a new chapter in my marriage less strange.

If you’re scratching your head right about now, it’s not surprising. But this is what it’s like for me, living a food forward life. I tend to follow my nose, eating my way into a place. This is the nitty-gritty of how food helps me approach making new connections or repairing those that have broken.

Don’t get me wrong…my husband had a little something to do with it too! Our reconnection was profound. Basically, we de-constructed our relationship. We became like forensic gardeners, examining the weeds we’d allowed to overgrow. We owned up to mistakes and harms caused, fitting the rebuilt pieces together in a different configuration. There are remnants from the previous version of us for sure. But in our new version, we are more open with each other and ourselves. Our sticky spots have less sting, less stickiness. We continue to examine the weeds that inevitably pop up.

So here is where caraway seeds come into the picture.

Our Vienna apartment perched directly above a restaurant called Schank zum Reichsapfel, a traditional Viennese wine tavern. Their cuisine features dense brown bread, a selection of cold sliced meats and a couple of hot dishes made in-house.

http://zumreichsapfel.at

My favorite was the Kümmelbraten.

Kümmelbraten is caraway scented roast pork belly. The smell of cooking Kümmelbraten made my mouth water. It didn’t matter if I was hungry or not. I’d never smelled anything like it. Every time I returned to the apartment from German language class or a museum outing, somehow the smell of roasting Kümmelbraten made me feel less foreign, like I wasn’t a total stranger trying to inhabit Vienna.

I grew up eating caraway seeded rye bread. It was our standard sandwich bread. Both sets of my grandparents ate rye bread, favored it in lieu of squishy white bread. Smelling the Kümmelbraten reminded me of my grandparents, of my origins as I adjusted to the unfamiliarity of my new home.

Kümmelbraten helped me lean into Vienna as my husband and I leaned into each other. Both Vienna and my marriage received me with grace.

My Kümmelbratten with crispy skin

I was surprised that after about six weeks, I was more or less comfortable in Vienna. There was still a language barrier, and a bit of culture shock. I was the same person there that I was–am–here in this country. I took with me all my insecurities and uncertainties, my introversion, my perfectionism, my strength, my adventurousness, determination, and my sense of humor.

It probably helped knowing my time in Vienna was limited. This was not a long-term move and I planned to enjoy every minute of living in the middle of Europe. But I gave myself permission to experience the possibility of re-invention, a fresh start in a foreign place. Living in Vienna presented an opportunity to sow new seeds, some caraway scented, to see what I might be able to grow.

Kümmelbraten is best seasoned the day before you plan to roast it. Once the roast is seasoned with a rub of crushed garlic, salt, and crushed caraway seeds, the remaining preparation is mostly hands off. As the Kümmelbraten cooks, its thick skin cap gets popcorn crispy, while the meat underneath turns into a melt-in-your mouth savory ambrosia.

I miss Kümmelbraten, so I made one. Here’s a link to the recipe I used from Vienna Sunday Kitchen, an award winning food blog. If you decide to make Kümmelbraten start a day in advance. It really benefits from a 24 hour “dry brine”, similar to how you might prepare a turkey.

https://www.vienna-sunday.kitchen

If you are a vegetarian or don’t eat pork, then look below for a vegetarian pasta recipe featuring caraway seeds. I’ve adapted it from Domenica Marchetti’s cookbook Glorious Pasta of Italy. Marchetti is a cookbook author and leads culinary tours to Italy. She also writes the Substack newsletter Buona Domenica.

Fettuccine with Brussels Sprouts and Caraway Seeds

Fettuccine with Brussels Sprouts, Cream and Caraway Seeds a lá Domenica Marchetti

Serves 4-6

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 shallot, finely chopped

2 teaspoons caraway seeds, lightly crushed (use a mortar and pestle or press down on the caraway seeds with the bottom of a cast-iron skillet)

Freshly ground black pepper

1 12 oz bag of shaved Brussels Sprouts

½ teaspoon Kosher salt

½ cup vegetable stock or water

1 cup heavy cream

1 pound fettuccine, whole wheat or not

Zest of 1 lemon

1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

Instructions:

Warm the olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Stir in the chopped shallot, caraway seeds and a healthy grind of pepper. Cook for about 5 minutes, until the shallot is softened and translucent.

Add the shaved Brussels Sprouts and salt to the pan. Pour in the broth or water. Cover the pan and let Brussels Sprouts cook for about 5 minutes.

At this point, start a pot of water to boil for the fettuccine. Once the water boils, add a generous spoonful of salt. Add pasta and cook according to package instructions. Drain the pasta in a colander set in the sink and reserve about 1 cup of the cooking water. If you’re using fresh pasta it will cook in about 5 minutes so you’ll have to plan accordingly.

Now, back to the Brussels Sprouts…

Remove lid from sauté pan and stir, then replace lid and continue to cook for about another 15 minutes. If you need to add more liquid, do so in ¼ cup increments.

Taste the Brussels Sprouts. They should be tender with a slight bit of crunch. Now add the cream and raise the heat to medium-high so that the cream comes to a boil. Then reduce the heat to medium-low. Simmer for another 7 or so minutes, until the sauce is slightly thickened.

Transfer the pasta from the colander to the sauté pan. Turn the heat to low. Toss gently with a wooden spoon or tongs adding some of the pasta cooking liquid if the sauce needs to be loosened up. Stir in lemon zest.

Transfer pasta to a serving bowl or individual pasta bowls. Sprinkle half the grated cheese on top and serve immediately. Pass remaining cheese at the table.

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