My hippie parents decided when I was in the 5th grade that we were going to save money for a year and then camp across Europe. OK. This was a pretty big undertaking since my parents were dirt poor anyway and saving money meant cutting back on nothing. So, we joined a community garden and started growing our own vegetables. We drank nasty, nasty powdered milk.
My Mother bought (or more than likely, borrowed) a couple of books that were very popular back then. One was “Europe on $10 a Day” or something absurd like that. The other was something like ” Europe with 2 kids and a Van” or again, something along those lines. She followed the instructions down to a tee.
How many people do you know who would sell and/or store all their possessions in the world and take all their money and leave to tour Europe not knowing what would happen when you
A: Ran out of money, B: Where would you live when you got back home and C: What would you do for a living when you returned?
So, anyway. Let’s get back to food. We camped across Western Europe for 5 months and visited 13 different countries. During that time I was exposed to a wide variety of new experiences, including, the most notable for me, food.
The only way I know how to describe these experiences is to list them by country.
1. Norway. I absolutely hate anything fishy. I eat a lot of things from the sea – clams, lobster, crabs, shrimp and mild fish. But there were so many things I tried in Norway that convinced me that I will never, ever be able to live there. The most disgusting was smoked eel. (I want to throw up in my mouth right now). The next thing was whale meat. Interestingly enough, the way we came about the whale meat was, we got lost. We were out in the middle of nowhere (which was no surprise considering my Step-Dads’s – God Bless Him – sense of directions). We were exhausted, it was late in the evening, we came across a farm and asked the farmer if we could camp on his land for a night. Now, this sounds simple enough but consider the fact that the farmer did not speak English, French or Spanish and we did not speak…forgive me…Norwegien. So we set up camp and did not have anything of substance to eat. The farmer and his wife, brought out some whale meat for us to cook over a campfire, which is exactly what we did. I know what you’re thinking. What did it taste like? Let’s just say, if you marinated a beef filet in sea water and pan fried it…that’s what it tasted like.
2. Italy. Back then, as stupid Americans, we had no idea what real Italian cooking and cuisine were all about. So, our first experience with pizza was disappointing. We had just toured the Vatican and decided to get an authentic Italian pizza. We probably were too close to all of the touristy places but we happened upon a little pizza shop. We ended up getting a potato pizza. All I can say is…bland. No red sauce. No thick layer of cheese. No spice. Just bland. It was basically thinly sliced potatoes and tomatoes on a thin crust. Wow. But there were other experiences that equalled the Wow factor. We joined some friends for a night out at an authentic Italian restaurant. There seemed to be a bazzillion courses – but that could have just been my young age. The most notable was the pasta course which was just very plain pasta, tossed in chopped tomatoes and not much else. Today, I probably would get week in the knees upon tasting such a delight but back then, as a kid, it was not something I had been marketed to.
3. France. Ah, the mecca. OK. Most of my experiences were wonderful, memorable and mouth watering. So, I will start with the nightmare. We visited friends in France (and when I say friends, my parents had a vast network of friends across Europe which we were fortunate enough to visit and have a reprieve from camping) and stayed with them for a week. Helen (who was a former lover of my Step-Dads when he attended the Sorbonne during his college years) took us to the local fresh market where she shopped daily. Today, I would salivate and not be able to control myself to walk through a French market but when I was 10…not so much. Anyway, back at home all of the cheese, butter, meat and vegetables were kept at room temperature. For dinner we had ground horse meat medallions. 2 hours later, my Mother, brother and I were puking our guts up….for hours. Today I would be willing to try horse meat again but it would have to pass all of the paranoid, sanitary, proper regulations that I’ve become accustomed to.
Now onto the more pleasant food memories. Patisserie. Ah, the yummy delights we had almost everyday. Somehow, no matter where we were or what we were doing, we ended up finding a Patisserie and having a decadent snack. My favorite was called the “Nun”. I can’t remember the official French name, but it was a triple layer of pastry, covered in chocolate icing. Mmmm.
We also had the great fortune of spending time at a family “Hunting Lodge”. OK, so this was something that was built 100’s of years ago and was handed down from generation to generation. It conveniently came with a serving staff and a variety of other amenities. Each morning, we were served a continental breakfast out on the terrace facing the river. I just remember the warm croissant, real butter and marmalade.
The same family who owned the hunting lodge, invited us to dinner at their meager home in Paris. I believe it had a total of 32 rooms. I just remember that my brother and I were considered privileged enough to sit at the adult table in the formal dining room. This evidently was a huge event since children were supposed to been seen and not heard. Also, in the French culture, children were not allowed to be involved in adult activities.
Anyway, onto the meal. I just remember this was my first experience in a formal dining room with people who were waiting on us hand and foot. Literally, the staff wore uniforms. It was so far from anything I had ever experienced before!! The main thing I remember about the meal was the rabbit. I did not know that people ate rabbits and because I was in this “priviledged” environment, I didn’t want to show any signs of ignorance, so I ate it and was surprised that it tasted like chicken. Of course, I think I had many nightmares following the event about betraying Bugs Bunny.
4. Spain. We unfortunately, we were in Spain when Franco died. The country was in disarray.
We were trying to go to Madrid but it was impossible to get there. We ended up spending more than 2 weeks at a campground on the Mediterranean. Oh, how horrible (said with much sarcasm). We had to endure gorgeous weather and the beach every day.
We did get to go to an authentic Spanish restaurant that served paella. Now, at the time, I was a young kid and did not appreciate the variety of seafood that was presented before me. So, I spent most of my time in the bathroom pretending I was sick just to avoid having to try mussels and other “fishy” delicacies.
5. Germany. Germany was one of our first stops in Europe. The plan was to pick up the brand new Volvo. That was the car that was going to get us around Europe and also be our all-purpose vehicle when we returned to the US.
I don’t remember much about food during this experience, but I do remember who we stayed with. The couple was mixed – the mother was black and the father was white. As a child of 10, I wasn’t aware of the social implications of such a union, all I was thinking about was taking care of their baby and changing diapers and feeding…it was all intruiging to me.
6. Switzerland. Because we were from Greensboro, NC, we knew several people who worked for the pharmaceutical industry. Most of them had condos or houses back in Switzerland and were more than happy to have us stay there during our visit. In fact, we spent 2 weeks over Christmas in Basil at our friend’s condo. How luxurious was that compared to a tent! The main thing I remember is the traditional Christmas cake – forgive me, it has a real name that I can’t recall. But the fun factor was the hidden piece of figurine inside that whomever was fortunate enough to get it, was King for the night and got to wear a special hat.
7. England/Wales. OK. Back then the British did not have the best reputations for being culinary experts. In fact, I can concur that from our time there, the food was abysmal. We had a very bad experience the one time we ate out in London at an Indian restaurant (which seemed to be the most popular). My Mother, who was pregnant at the time, asked for something mild. She was served a dish that was purposely hotter than hell. Since we were the only patrons in the restaurant at the time, we got to see the joy and laughter of the service staff as they watched my Mother trying desperately to put out the fire.
We stayed with a family in Wales whom we had met while camping in another country. They were such wonderful people and they introduced us to traditional, Welsh fare. I don’t remember everything but I do recall the “Bubble and Squeak”. As a kid, I thought it was sooooo cool!!
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