Our great promise of waking up early to get everything done with the least stress possible, is again dissolved into nothingness, by our sleepiness and the native need of cuddling. 7 is now 8.30, once again late and like a bunch of wired party animals we jump up, rushing around trying to stretch the hours till departure.
Never changes, does it?
Never change, do we?
While I am trying to get washed and shampooed as fast as possible, I am a feeling just a bit bad, as the ‘babies’ will be send to the hotel today, the very first time ever. Guilt is crawling up on me, like the ants I am watching, marching up the tiled shower walls. Where the heck are they going anyway? It is wet, it is closed in and there is nothing eatable inside, unless they are counting on me?
ANTS.ANTS.ANTS.
They will drive me insane one day. Or they may have already…
Clean and sweetly scented, wrapped in an oversized towel I head for the kitchen. The scratchy sounds on the door remind me of the ‘little ones’.
Puppy is calling, time for breakfast. The thought of managing a full-blown household, with real babies and a sharp time schedule seems totally impossible to me. How do women do it? I would be constantly battling this enemy called clock, my kids most likely never on time for breakfast, school or sleep. Maybe a private teacher, with a hippy approach to the idea of time, would be the only possible answer.
“Yes little one, breakfast is coming up, give me just a minute.”
“ I need coffee baby, please urgently”, I hear Prince calling from his Princedom-office. Ohhhhhh, why did I ever end up with 3 puppies?
COMING!!!
First the big puppy, then the small ones.
Coffee, vitamin-fizzy water and yogurt, good morning my Love.
Kutshi, kutshi, kutssssshi… a bowl of dried meat balls for you little puppy. At least that’s easy. Just open the bag of dog food (hoping it is not again infested by those bloody ants) and fill up the bowl.
Big dog gets a treat, but only because we are leaving. While watching the 8 legs munch away, I am feeling once again like a bad mother. Stepmother, sending the pains away. I start explaining myself to them, standing in the sunny morning hour, excusing my life to 2 dogs. And not that they are listening. Ears down, tails up, they are way too busy stuffing themselves.
I never so less go on, advertising their vacation coming up.
“You know it is a lovely place, with lots of land to roam around. Monica said, that many new and interesting guests will be arriving this week. I met already a most elegant couple, the Whippets. They are a very chic pair, very fashionable and I think you could become great friends”… and on and on I mutter… “I am sure you two will be so busy playing, that you won’t even miss us. And did you know, that I booked you a room with floor heating?... “
The bell rings and our house help Senhora L. arrives to collect the keys. Senhora L. is a funny character, speaking fast and furious Portuguese, while exhibiting expressive body language. We never understand anything, but still, somehow, we understand each other. How that works is a mystery. She will make sure to empty the lifesaving dehumidifiers every 24hours, thank god, otherwise we are sure to return to wet sheets and greenish walls. Not that I mind the old-lived in feel, but those shrooms on the wall can be rather unhealthful. (for us and our cloth)
Time to take the furry ones away. Snufffff.
I collect all the leftover apples and pears from the baskets, something vitamin-rich for Puppy to chew on.
The fluffy blanket they like so much and their passports and off we drive to Casa Doggy.
Our old dog looks very distressed and blue, she always knows when we are leaving.
Poor little one.
It is a glorious day. The sun is shining from the bluest sky and the spring flowers are painting the fields in lemon gold. My heart fills with joy, thanking nature for such gifts.
The hotel gates are open and a smile curls up my face, for this place is magic. A converted windmill set in a lush pear orchard, overlooking rolling green hills, it is inviting enough for me to wanna stay. I can walk on four and wufff!
Monica welcomes us and Puppy is all over her. Dogs know good and bad.
I fill out the check in forms and then I take them to their room.
Mr. and Mrs. stylish Whippet, sporting knitted turquoise-blue turtlenecks today are living next door. Great. They are perfectly gorgeous neighbors.
Time to hug them good by (so faster so easier) and I promise to call them every day. Walking out, warm-eyed Monika tells me about the soon-to-come arrival of skype screens, so we can actually see our babies. What a great idea!
Woooffff, wooofffffff, woooooofffffffffffffffffffff
Heartbreaking…There goes my family. Stinky, furry and furniture destroying, yet, I love them!!!
Back at home our ever-faithful taxi driver is waiting already in the driveway. Well, his taxi is, but its not him, its his son today. Carl is gone hunting, I learn from the sleep-deprived looking offspring… Luckily we are away these days, so no chance of bloody presents for now.
And there we go-airborne and on our way to Hamburg.
The crew is very lively today and Prince is busy slurping red wine and flirting with the well-seasoned stewardess. She is all shine and bubbles with the attention of a young stud and Prince departs the plane with a slight buzz and a couple of plastic bags . Red wine. Gift from TAP.
What a few smiles and compliments can do?!
Hamburg is cold and white. Not fluffy white, more like condensed grayish white with an icy temperament, but it is still close enough to snow, to make me excited. What wondrous magical stuff this snow is. A gift from the heavens. Like a fine silk blanket, it covers cities with beauty and muffles the noises into a dreamy decibel.
Our sleeping quarter is the 4 Jahreszeiten today. Old school elegance, just my cup of (green) tea.
Arriving at the impressive hotel, the entrance is less impressive today, as the place is a construction site. Oh no, please no.
NOISE?
We have to enter via the restaurant door, which is killing somewhat the charm, but the worst is the Lobby. Under construction to refit a sprinkler system the Lobby has been covered with dirty-white dry walls, resembling now an eastern block post office. AWFUL. But what can we do. What needs to be done needs to be done, I just hope with the least disturbance to our stay and sleep. The smiley porter promises, that no sounds can be heard in the rooms, porter-promise.
I know that such promises cannot be trusted, but with the winter wonder world calling outside, no reason to stay in anyhow.
We got just 15 minutes before we will be picked up for dinner, as the son of a business colleague and his girlfriend are taking us out.
The pair is waiting for us in the lounge, luckily a place that has already been ‘re-sprinklered’ and so it shines in glorious beauty. Affectionately called the WOHNHALLE (living room) it is the heart of the hotel. Resembling a grand country mansion, with a crackling fireplace (well, to be honest, no crackling, the fireplace has been refitted with a gas-copy…the sounds and smells, sadly are missing…very German approach!) and an oversized samovar for teatime, it s the perfect place to linger for a cup of herbs and something small and sweet.
I love the wood wainscoting (wooden wall paneling), the stuccoed ceiling and the antique seating arrangements. It is splendid.
And somehow, it turns everyone into a lady and a gentleman. There must be truth in the thought, that humans behave different in certain ambiances. Elegance, fine craftsmanship, materials of excellence, traditions, classical music and BEAUTY make us BETTER.Or so I believe.
Check out Alain de Botton’s “The architecture of happiness”.
The gifted writer-entrepreneur-philosophizer touches in this book the subject of beauty and human response.
An interesting work of pages.
H&C take us to a surprise restaurant. The earlier email inquiry, on what kind of place we like, was answered by me with 3 words:
*FIREPLACE (with the snow outside… a must)
*German cuisine (but good)
*URIG (urig is word more used in the South of Germany, meaning, warm, cozy, with a twist, funny, different…)
WATTKORN here we come.
Michael Wollenberg, the celebrated Chef of Hamburg’s in-scene, with a somewhat wild and deliciously dirty past.
Once notorious nightclub owner of the scandal ridden WOLLENBERG (!EGO), the party monster turned cook.
Looks like his wild side is now roaring out in the kitchen and when he goes shooting deer in the woods.
Oh dear!
I cannot escape! Hunters everywhere. But this time, it’s not me chopping off bunny heads.
The Wattkorn is a guesthouse-restaurant and certainly passes for URIG.
ULTRA-URIG!
The place resembles a snug mountain hut. Wood, red and white checkered materials, benches stuffed with pillows, candle lights and a roaring fireplace.
Cured meats dangle from the ceiling and the waiters are dressed in checkered shirts, like real country people. PERFECT! It’s hard to believe that this is Hamburg, which usually is known for trendy, modern and hip dining. (not my favorite way of eating)
We scoop into a corner bench and I am amazed by the size of the menu. This Michael party-cook must have his brain still working pretty good (impressive after years of full time partying), because with this menu he can pull everyone for a bite. Simply put, because there is every dish imaginable on the card.
Fancy Schnitzel?
Fancy Pasta?
Fancy Deer?
Fancy Onion Soup?
Fancy Spinach Salad?
Fancy Sushi?
So where is his signature cooking style? Is it the game, is the traditional German fare or is it JAPANESE?
Confused Chef, but let’s taste it, before I make a judgment.
Since Michael loves hunting we decide that game must be the choice of the night.
Sadly I admit, I choose papa-Bambi.
Please don’t give me that look. I know, I am awful. But…but… I love wild. It is yummy, lean, healthy and BIO. Not fed any hormones and other things, we don’t want to mention.
The salads arrive, green and crisp, but common.
The meat though is really divine. Soft and silky, with a berry-cherry glaze, our table is a symphony of uhhhhhhh and ahhhhhhhhs.
Served with an oversized platter of side orders, like Brussels sprouts, celery-puree, wine soaked berries and sweet mash, we are in culinary heaven.
Michael, I take it back.
Your wild side could not taste any better.
I am stuffed to the last space in my tummy, but I can’t let the dessert pass ‘untasted’.
Can I?
The chocolate crème brulee sounds just the perfect ending to the night and it is as scrumptious as the name promises.
Mr. Wollenberg. If every party-animal can cook like you, nightclubs ought to closed and reopened as food temples!
*Wattenkorn. A great surprise in the chic Hansestadt. We will be back.
And this is it for today,
Yummy dreams good night
WATTKORN
www.wattkorn.de
Tangstedter Landstrasse 230
22417 Hamburg
+49 (0)40 520 3797
Dress-code: country, farm, tweed and gingham
Michael's new book is out - all about cooking wild. German only (for now)
VIER JAHRESZEITEN (fairmont)
Neuer Jungfernstieg 9-14
20354 Hamburg
+49 40 3494 0
dress-code: elegant, dress to impress, hats, heels and gloves(for the ladies)
Germany is not as expensive as one would imagine, so a room here can cost as little as 200 euros a night. A bargain for such grand dame! And the address: PRICELESS!
