Culinary Rewards from the Famed Abbess of the Middle Ages

Tramp1, who when he isn’t studying or working out in the gym, likes to eat. A lot. He requested one of the trampess’s specialities before he left and expressed interest in going to the Schwanen in Bizau where you will remember we failed to get in the day after he arrived owing to the fact that it was their “rest day”. The tramp decided that he and tramp1 would go to the gym together on Sunday while your trampess was upholding the family honour by attending church (have I mentioned that the church in Bezau is large enough to hold the entire population of the village plus a large number of visitors staying in the local hotels? No, well it is, and most of the village is there every Sunday and in what my 7th grade Southern Baptist history teacher used to call “Sunday go to meeting” finery). This way by the time they came back from the gym, lunch presumably would be ready. As it happened, the trampess was happy to fall in with these plans – indeed she almost succumbed to a cappuccino at the Post Hotel (the oldest and grandest in Bezau) as the outside terrace is so welcoming but decided to have the cappuccino in the WLW while contemplating cooking. It was a good plan and lunch (the requested ginger garlic chicken) was ready just as the exhausted iron pumpers returned.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and conversing over the usual miseries: world politics, European politics, and US politics. Then things became serious when the tramp announced he didn’t think there would be time to go to the Schwanen for lunch given tramp1’s flight time from Zurich – especially since the plan was for him to go by Landesbus. Tramp1 almost hyperventilated, but the trampess saved the day by suggesting that if we were at the Schwanen by noon, the 2:36 bus would be easy to make (it stops in front of the Schwanen) and tramp1 would make his plane. The Schwanen was duly telephoned and it was established that they opened at 11:30 for lunch (after all hikers who are up at the crack of dawn might be down the mountain and starving by that time and the Schwanen is nothing if not accommodating!). It was agreed that tramp1 would pack his rucksack that night and the tramp would put tramp1’s computer into his rucksack so that all tramp1’s luggage (so to speak) would be on our backs for the morning hike.

The next day was beautiful and we set out early (after the usual hearty breakfast of course). Instead of going on the fast route to Bizau, the tramp decided on a longer and more scenic one. Tramp1 was nervous – a good hike was one thing, missing lunch quite another, but the tramp, having first felt that lunch was impossible, felt quite confident that he was reading the maps correctly and that we would arrive in plenty of time. The trampess, while trusting the tramp’s reading of the map completely, was concerned that the route we were intending to take might have been the one which ended on the wrong side of a cliff last year. The tramp assured her this was not the case, and your three intrepid tramps set out. As it happened, the tramp was of course right and we arrived in plenty of time (just before noon) at the Schwanen. Now, if it has not been mentioned before, the area around Schwarzenberg (which includes Bizau) is heavily influenced by Hildegard von Bingen. You will, of course, remember the beloved Hildegard (tenth child of a noble family and therefore tithed to the Church): her sacred music is heard almost every Sunday at some church in England (and one would assume throughout Germany where she lived – in fact, had your tramps known of the importance of Hildegard, they would have undoubtedly stopped at the abbey where she lived on the Rhein when they were making their first delicate excursions) and her visionary writings were given the papal imprimatur. But importantly, for the Schwanen, she was also very interested in herbs, herbal medicines and the importance of eating correctly (she suffered from migraines and perhaps her interest was driven by a desire for a remedy). One can only imagine that the abbey that Hildegard became abbess of was, under her leadership, the Canyon Ranch of the 12th Century. Anyone who lived to 81 in the 12th century must have understood a thing or two about longevity! The menu at the Schwanen was developed under her guidance (well under the guidance of her philosophy) and so we began with the drinks that fit our needs (the descriptions are very fulsome and cover fatigue, depression, the need to relax, the need to be energised and so forth): the tramp and tramp1 had a rather magnificent raspberry concoction; the trampess a sour cherry one (and was reminded that her great aunt, a devout Presbyterian and therefore teetotaller, used to make all manner of vegetable or fruit drinks as cocktails before dinner, with varying degrees of success). Galgant (vaguely corklike in appearance and potent – a favourite of Hildegard) and fennel are always on the table in small bottles to be taken, rather like snuff, but eaten not inhaled, in small doses before (perhaps even during) the meal. The drinks were pure nectar. After much discussion (and translation of the menu for tramp1), we ordered. And while nothing at the Schwanen comes quickly (this is a serious restaurant in the middle of nowhere) it is all wonderful. Tramp1 would have probably been willing to miss his airplane for this lunch. As it happened, there was time for pudding without prejudice to the flight. Tramp1 exclaimed when he saw Kaiserschmarr’n on the dessert menu. He had last had it in Austria many years ago and decided not only was it fit for the Kaiser, it was definitely HIS best pudding. The tramp who is also partial to a good Kaiserschmarr’n suggested that they order one between them (it is a very large portion that the Schwanen produce!). Tramp1 however is allergic to wheat and declared that sadly he would never be eating it again. The tramp couldn’t believe there was any flour in the famed pudding and the waiter was duly summoned. The trampess was, of course, reasonably certain there was flour in it but demurred to the waiter. Miracle of miracles (well perhaps not given Hildegard’s unerring influence), the Kaiserschmarr’n at the Schwanen is made with Dinkel (spelt to you and me) and not wheat and so the pudding was ordered. The trampess had the totally irresistible Basilikummousse with cooked berries (which might sound outrageously awful but, trust me, is sublime).

And so the tramps leapt onto tramp1’s bus (well perhaps leapt is an exaggeration given the deeply satisfying and filling lunch) as it went through Bezau on the way to Bregenz where the young tramp would transfer to a train. Kisses and hugs and computers were exchanged in haste as the bus pulled into Bezau and tramp1 was on his way. All in all a totally satisfying visit - even the discussions between Genghis Khan and Mao had been friendly. It seems both young and old had mellowed.