Cappuccino, Edelbitter Excellence and Piesporter Goldtroepfchen Riesling Spaetlese 2004

I have not really mentioned cooking so far. The tramp, having spent much of his life on the road living in hotels and eating in restaurants, would be very happy never to eat in a restaurant again. The trampess, while always having enjoyed cooking, nonetheless enjoys the odd (well perhaps more than the odd) meal at Tom Aikens or similar. The WLW while as I have said luxurious for its type is not a patch on the home kitchen. The Dometic (the absence of the s already gives a hint that it is not quite complete) would be embarrassed to be in the same room as the Viking (again the names says everything – this is a cooking machine to feed the starving millions and well). Of course, the tramp understands this, but even so he is used to a certain standard and the lack of firepower should not stand in the way. While he had no choice on the fitting out of the kitchen, he did leave the rest to your trampess (before I arrived the hob had not been used – the tramp existed on the stone age diet of nuts, fruit and salads – with the odd kneckerbrot for ballast – as the Germans so appositely refer to fibre).

First principles must be followed especially in cases of diminished capacity. Your trampess sought out the best cooking shop in Koblenz and dressed in her most obviously (and unattractively) tramping gear promptly bought a limited but exceedingly high quality set of cooking pots. It pays to surprise the natives. I was showered with little stickies and a book in which to collect them as well as a form to fill in to allow for extra discounts. This enabled the tramp to get a man sized set of serving tongs for practically nothing. While it always pays to have good pots, believe me, on an inferior hob it makes a huge difference – especially in the washing up – another little gift from me to the tramp (I like him to know that I am thinking of him when I make what to the untrained eye is an extravagant purchase).

The challenge is of course to find raw materials worthy of the pots. All of my friends told me how lovely it would be to visit villages with markets selling local, fresh produce. True. Of course you have to be in the village on market day, you can only pay in cash, and, if the truth be told not all the produce is in fact local – though no one goes to great trouble to write in large letters – from Spain – on the tomatoes. So it was a blessing to find the beloved Edeka – once you recognise the big E (the whole name is not spelled out on the masthead that can be seen from the road) on what appears to be a warehouse (German marketing is not quite up there expect for maybe cars), you are in a food emporium which approximates Whole Foods. Not perfection, but worthy. Fresh vegetables and fresh fruit in reasonable abundance. Fresh fish and fresh meat (organic even) and a decent cheese counter. Many, many aisles of superfluous packaged goods but those are easily overlooked. Imagine, as we were driving along the Saar, your trampess spotted a big E off of a small roundabout (these small roundabouts are a treat – the tramp’s driving skills are so clear when one realises that the WLW with the trailer take up nearly half the roundabout) – the tramp made one of the fastest exits ever. He knew fish would be on the menu if we made a stop, so stop we did.

Three small burners (and one smaller than the other two) with less than ideal maximum heat present a challenge even with superior pots. Browning requires patience and new techniques. I have made stews successfully browning the meat first on the hob and then cooking in the very small oven but so far have not tried roasting - and with limited space for leftovers it seems an extravagant use of the oven – assuming that a chicken would even fit! (Besides it could take several hours to roast a even a small bird and one cannot feel entirely comfortable about leaving the oven on and going for a long walk when said long walk might take an hour longer than one thought – at the same time hanging around the WLW seems a waste of the countryside one came to visit). So all in all, I have arrived at a repertoire of simpler dishes preferably cooked in layers (mange tout added at the last minute to chicken sautéed in ginger, garlic, and chilli for example, worked extremely well) are both tasty and generate less washing up. You will remember the dis-balance between fresh water and grey water – the problem is not getting better – the more I cook, the worse it gets. The tramp has reached the point of saying that we will have to surreptitiously let off grey water whenever possible. The alternative is too grim – he cannot face returning to a pre-trampess diet.

Lest you think that we have arrived at a high level of cuisine, I must aver, but it is tolerable and certainly better than the local eateries (heavy on breading, bratwurst and kartoffel). In the end, I must also say that a wonderful coffee and a small piece of edelbitter chocolate (I am becoming the world’s expert on plain, perfect, simple, dark chocolate bars which I buy in quantity) taken while sitting on a very comfortable chair only feet away from a gap in the trees and the Mosel within toe distance, at the end of a even the simplest lunch can make one feel very content with the world and indeed willing to set out on one of those well marked 4 hour walks uphill. In the evening, with the sun setting behind the tramp and a glass of Piesporter Goldtroepfchen in my hand (a wine the tramp’s father used to drink at night after dinner – and tracked down in Peisport – very satisfying),after a simple salad with bit of cheese and possibly, just possibly followed by Stippmilch with a modified Rotegrueze (the number of opportunites to buy berries has been limited), is remembered fondly as a perfect summer supper. It is, in the end, the little touches that count.