Fall in Puglia, Italy

I haven't been to Cornwall but I read somewhere that Puglia is like the Cornwall for Italians.  With 800km of beach-lined coast, in the last 10 years Puglia has become a hot destination for for the Italian socialites in summer.  Our boy's research informed us that Justin Timberlake got married in Puglia, not Tuscany or Lake Como, three years ago.   Like our trip to Croatia last October, we decided to chase the last of the sun (Puglia is further south than Naples) and explore Puglia during the quieter shoulder season which aligned with our school Fall Break (October 31-November 8.) 

We loved the time of year for our visit and the warm mid 60 degree weather but if we were to advise others who are coming from further away, we’d recommend you plan your trip to Puglia sometime before November 1 (All Saints Day) which seems to be the official day that things start shutting down.  It didn’t detour us, but many of the towns were dead and we needed assistance in finding open restaurants.   Late September and all of October would be ideal.

To get to Puglia, you can fly into either Bari or Brindisi.  Neither are particularly interesting cities to visit but they are easy in and out places to fly into.  You will definitely need to rent a car to explore the area.  We stayed first outside of Fasano which has a number of interesting hilltowns to visit (or read in, see photos below): Ostuni, Locorotondo, Martina Franca and Pogliano a Mare were white-washed charm even with the quiet.   

We ended up in Martina Franca on a Sunday night when the whole well-dressed town seemed to be out for a Sunday evening stroll.  Due to time, we skipped the “smurftown” of Alberobello with his unique cone roofed stoned houses and the limestone caves of Grotte Castellana in favor of hiking along the gorgeous coast of the Toree Guaceto Nature Reserve. 

The second portion of our trip was further south in the "Salento" region near Otranto and Lecce.  Otranto is a picturesque town with a harbor and castle and Lecce is a lively university town that is often referred to as the “Florence of the South.”   Lecce was still buzzing even in November but Otranto wasn't at full capacity.   Here there are fewer small hilltowns to visit but Otranto and Lecce could keep you busy for a few days.   With a more accessible coastline, there is a spectacular drive (and potential bike route) following limestone cliffs from Otranto to Castro.  Of the two areas, we'd give the nod to the Salento region (also a wine region.)

Puglia is filled with beach clubs in the summer, kite surfing is big, and it would be a fantastic place for a cycling trip.  We met one couple from New York who were bicycling when we were there and it's ideal given the terrain and the sprinkling of guest houses.

More than other places we’ve visited, I would highly recommend you plan your visit around where you want to stay.  Southern Italy is filled with these charming “Masserias” which are farmhouses that were built to function as self-sufficient communities but now have been converted into guest houses. There is a huge range of them, some of them double as spas and some of them double as agriturismos, some are in small villages but most are out in the country.  Unlike a hotel, each Masseria has its own unique vibe and set of services so it’s worth hunting around until you find one that is “your speed.”  We stayed in two of them. The first one near Fasano was fine but the second one Masseria Prosperi, outside of Otranto and Lecce was special. 

Masseria Prosperi, a farmhouse with indoor and outdoor pool near Otranto and located 1.5km from the beach, opened two years ago by the wonderfully relaxed Mercedes (who speaks English) and her husband Antonio (who speaks the language of food.)  You have to be comfortable with communal dining and like animals (it’s on a farm but think chic farm not hippy farm where your children and pets are very much welcomed).  If you are a foodie, having Antonio cook a multi-course Puglian dinner set out on the terrace while you mingle with other guests – sending your children to bed upstairs when they are tired – is an Italian experience you won’t get visiting a big city.  If you like a very quiet night of sleep, this may not be the place for you especially if all the rooms were occupied and you were staying in one of the two downstairs rooms. 

There are six guest rooms (the two upstairs back rooms being the best) and it’s possible to rent out the entire house with a group of friends.  The furnishings are nice but not at all fussy.  The only person worrying about a trail of water from the indoor pool to the room will be an American mother.  Service is attentive and always welcoming, tested by multiple cappuccino orders at breakfast. Don’t be discouraged by the lack of curb appeal when you first arrive at Masseria Prosperi because once you step inside and around to the back, you’ll forgive the tired, unloved property that sits in front of it.   Mercedes' sister and mother run a more well-known nearby Masseria called Masseria Montelauro.

Other places to recommend:

• Borgo San Marco – a family-friendly 15th century Masseria with 18 rooms outside Fasano.  Like Masseria Prosperi, one of 16 places to stay in the region recommended on i-escapes (my most reliable website for finding places to stay in Europe) and one we considered.   We ended up staying at Masseria Alchimia instead which is more self-service but given the time of year and the "magic" of the guest house experience, I'd choose a more immersive Masseria.
• Le Capase Resort Salento – We drove by this resort which has a beautiful natural setting on the Salentine Peninsula.  Prices look reasonable.
• Borgo Egnazia – a large, village sized Masseria with 63 rooms and the location of Justin Timberlake’s wedding outside Fasano.  Recommended in this recent Conde Naste article which has 10 other Masserias to recommend (Masseria Prosperi among them) which would be an excellent read (and much more helpful than my post) if you were considering a visit.

Walks along the coastline are wonderful, perhaps even more in the off season where you often have the place to yourselves.  If you go, we'd recommend:

• Beach walk along Toree Guaceto Natural Reserve north of Brindisi or a sandy beach mixed in with rocky coves.  No beach clubs or services except for trash cans. 
• Baia dei Turchi public beach north of Otranto (probably very crowded in summer)
• Torre Sant’Andrea north of Otranto (the link here is for a listing of many other beaches in the area.)
• Along the Salentine peninsula between Otranto and Castro. 

The food in Puglia with it's focus on fish and greens is the best we've had in Italy so far.  Before Antonio's cooking, we were given excellent lunch and dinner recommendations by the woman who owned the first Masseria near Fasano.  The best of those were:

• Il Punto, an elegant fish restaurant on the water in the ugly - and I mean ugly- town of Torre Canne.  One of the only times traveling when we arrived embarrassingly under-dressed for Sunday brunch.
• Il Cortiletto, an unassuming place in the small town of Speziale, where you get a 9 course antipasta feast before the main dish.  A truly special dining experience worth going out of the way for.
• Chichibo, a typical large well-established fish restaurant serving locals and tourists in the heart of Polignano. 

London: A Taste of Two Markets

You can go to a food market and take pictures or you can go to a food market and eat.  It is hard to commit to both things at the same time.   If you happen to be in London and are thinking about visiting the Borough Market (maybe on your list) or Brixton Village Market (probably not on your list) for a bite(s) to eat, do yourself a favor and leave the camera behind.   Based on the few photos I did take, I obviously had my priorities right.

Borough Market is London’s oldest and most well-known market near the London Bridge.  Everyone knows it like they know Pike’s Place Market in my hometown of Seattle.  Set under a rail viaduct, the market snakes around into several sections that you are best to scope out before calorie committing.  Much of the market, which includes traditional food stalls and lots of street food takeaway options, is under cover.  The full market is open Thursday-Sunday with only a portion of it open on Monday-Wednesday.   It seems like the week days are geared toward the food wanderer in search of a £5 lunch and the weekends to the home cook collecting for a gourmet meal.  It certainly was busy with business suits and students at Tuesday lunch time but definitely not unbearable.   There is limited seating in the greenhouse or the garden of the Southwark Cathedral (which you must enter through the Cathedral to access) or you could take your food along to the South Bank.   Or you can inhale it while standing.    

I choose the longest queues, which in one case I had no idea what for until I saw the hog on the split.   After the salty, fennel seed spiked pork goodness on a ciabatta roll with rocket salad and a simple dressing at Roast Hog, I lined up for vegetable pad thai at Khanom Krok (which though tasty really isn’t a pleasure to watch being cooked as street food), and finished with seared scallops topped with a fistful of crunchy bacon bits over a stir fry of veg at Shellseekers.   That all happened in two hours.  I did toss the ciabatta roll to “make room.”  There was a killer toasted cheese sandwich I’d read about, Ethiopian food that looked delicious and so.much.more but without a partner in dining crime, I had to surrender until dinner.

On Wednesday morning I was back in Borough Market for a slow filter coffee at the seriously good Monmouth Coffee and a to-go piece of ginger cake at Bread Ahead.   Because Borough market is right near the London Bridge Station, it was conveniently on my way to Wednesday’s market exploration further south and outside central London in the up and coming neighborhood of Brixton.

Brixton Village (aka Granville Arcade) is everything Borough Market is not.   While Borough Market is filled with students, young professionals and tourists, Brixton is a multi-ethnic community largely of African and Caribbean descent, musicians and young people.  Brixton is the last Tube stop on the Victoria Line.  You’ll notice you aren’t in central London as soon as you exit the Tube.  There’s a lively street market that runs down the spine of the mixed residential and chain store neighborhood.  You’ll see every kind of fruit, vegetable, meat, fish, and flea market junk along the street market which leads to a covered arcade called Brixton Village.  Quieter and clearly gentrifying, Brixton Village is filled with nice vintage shops and a vibrant range of eateries that would take days to sample.  It’s more casual sit down than take away.  Brixton Village is where you go to eat your heart out and then pick up a few gifts. 

With an article in TimeOut London as my guide, I had a hard time choosing between Caribbean fried fritters at Fish, Wings and Tings, South American empanadas at El Rancho Del Lalo, Pakistani street food at Elephant, dumplings at Mama Lana and thai food at KaoSarn.  I decided on Thai and was blown away by the classic Larb salad of minced chicken with ground roasted rice, chili, mint and lime juice.  Reviews on Trip Advisor (why do I even check anymore?) say prices have gone up and they run you out over the dinner hour, but I still consider a £8.90 a cheap eat and the lunch hour was definitely leisurely and they were happy to chat with me.  It was only a salad but it was the best Thai I’ve had since the US.  If you are hungry and not sure what you want to eat, you will no doubt find something that strikes your fancy and doesn’t hit your wallet at Brixton Village.  And there were several good looking coffee shops too.

Later that night when I was back near the Borough Market, I bellied up to the tapas bar for a glass of wine and waited my turn for a table at very popular Brindisa Tapas Kitchen.  There are 5 locations throughout London.  A cute guy, who also happens to be my husband, met up with me there after his work and my 36 hours of eating.   Finally I had a partner in dining crime and while not as as heavenly as what you'd get in Spain, the fried sea bass with mash and charcuterie and queso plates were terrific.

If you are on a time budget when in London, Borough Market is a sure bet for a quick lunch and an eye-popping food experience.   If you time to commit to a longer lunch, the range of food options available at Brixton Village is well worth the adventure.

I'm Out!

I am usually not a generous survey person. A lot of kindness evaporates when a solicitor calls asking for “Mr. Ball-batch” when the Mrs. is clearly on the line. I change sidewalk lanes when I see those young people with clipboards. I know all the hidden website places to find the no thanks "x."

Yesterday was one of the exceptions. I got an email with a request for a listener survey on a podcast I’m quite fond of. Also the email sender’s name was Quinn, the same name as my first born, which should have nothing to do with it and yet it weirdly did. They both have two "n’s"! Quinn, the one in my email, promised the brief survey would take approximately 10 minutes.

I followed the link to the survey with optimism. I like this podcast and I want them to keep doing it. By about question 15 I started to fatigue. As fond as I am of the podcast, for something I only engage with about once a month I’d simply run out of things to say about it. Then came the question of “how busy I am” on a sliding scale which felt disingenuous to answer any other way but “not very to average” given that I already told them I had 10 minutes to spare. Then came the open ended question about how the podcast had caused me do something different in my life. I thought this maybe ambitious for a form. After all, I didn’t agree to the 10 minutes with the expectation of baring my soul and writing a narrative. When I tried to skip over it, I got the RED letters that I needed to complete the last question. I went back and answered “n/a.”

I made it several questions beyond the “n/a” but didn’t end up finishing the survey. (Note to survey makers: sometimes the survey completion status bar is not your friend. Note to Quinn: sorry, mate.) While a better survey person, a more loyal listener, or a person with less sensitivity about their busyness may have completed the survey, I don’t consider my abandoning the survey a character flaw. I do however think it’s interesting to understand how and when people decide, “I’m out!”

Our online selves leave conversations, which I've heard called ghosting, whenever the conversation gets hard or boring or someone’s Uncle Eddy adds something completely awkward. We leave long articles in search of the digest version or because someone posted one of those “Tasty” videos showing us everything we need to know about making Beer Mac ’n’ Cheese in 30 seconds. We get sucked into a reality TV show because for a few minutes it seems to be hitting on something genuine and then something gross turns up and we’re out.

We do have to filter things online because not every article or even “Upworthy” post merits our full attention, but the problem is when our online habits bleed into our real selves. When approximately 10 minutes of face to face conversation – without a digital interruption or other tabs open- feels like a really long time. When we prematurely say “I’m out!” when the conversation takes a wrong turn or before we’ve left any space for a deeper conversation to bloom.

I did an experiment with my middle son yesterday. I asked him on the ride home where it was just us if he wouldn’t mind putting his phone away for the whole ride. (It’s interesting how agreeable our kids are to doing this when we are willing to do the same.) In the first five minutes, we covered the lunch menu and our usual topics and then he added, “You know you are worse about your phone than I am” to which I could only say, “I know!” We then covered new conversational ground and when we finally got home some 20 minutes later, he said, “Wow! that was a long ride wasn’t it?” to which I said, “I know!”

Good conversation takes time and it takes work. It takes not giving up in the pauses or asking dumb questions to fill them. 12 years old especially do not like the dumb questions.

Later that night as I sat the boys down to a rushed dinner, I was multitasking at the desk. I was busy looking for hotels in Stockholm while my older son was trying to tell me about the recent news of the Czech Republic and their treatment of refugees. I kept on with the Stockholm search (the hotel options are many and beautiful!), but I did open another tab to BBC News to search on Czech Republic. By the time I left the hotels for the news, the conversation around the table had moved on to who had the Parmesan cheese.

Yeah. Missed it. The conversation. The irony of me being the one with the laptop open at dinner. It happens. All you can do is say “I know!” and try better next time.

Next time was later that night. I did the same experiment with my older son on a dark ride home when it was just us. (He too was happy to put his phone away for the car ride, but only after he texted his gf goodnight.) We did not talk about what he just texted or school or college (a favorite parent topic at the moment and a not-so-favorite topic of a high school senior.) Instead we talked about funny “only in Luxembourg” things that happened at his practice. I told him about the other Quinn and the survey and ABOUT the podcast I really like and how long 10 minutes is and he told me about “the rule of 8” he learned from his 7th grade math teacher to make me not feel so bad about aborting the survey and then we started to make up funny survey questions and we couldn’t stop laughing. We laughed all the way home and into the living room.

Phones down is no guarantee you will end up in a belly laugh, but doesn’t even the possibility of it make it a 10 minute exercise worth trying?

Dream gods

Ever have one of the dreams where you absolutely cannot do something really easy – like signing your name or making a garden salad- that in waking life you have either mastered or people of your age no longer find complicated? Then because you’re desperately trying to find the salad spinner with hungry guests waiting, you snoozed your way to getting up late.

I would feel so much better if I had been trying to make puffed pastry or a long putt. Salad is my game.

The problem with these silly dreams is that if you don’t take a moment to right size your beat up confidence ship and tell your mood where to get off, you’ll rush to the shower, pump the conditioner before the shampoo -again- and nick yourself shaving with one of the razors with the bumpers you spent extra money for to avoid these kinds of things. And then because you’re already late and band-aiding your cut, you won’t have time to practice your signature and prove the dream gods wrong.

You’ll then head to the kitchen, call it a cereal morning, and turn on the stove for coffee *with caution.*

Unattended, dreams that question your competence are sure bets for either a sucky or super productive, list making day. I usually follow the sucky path. If it’s raining like it was the morning after, it’s all but guaranteed. For me it reminds me that I’m underemployed, unable to speak French, and a creative who studied stupid accounting. Things that on most days, I’m at peace with. Most days I know that salad is not my only game.

I know, I know, it was only a dream! But I’m one of those people who a) puts a whole lot of stock in looking for signs and wonders and b) really, really needs good sleep.

You’ll then head to the car, because when you’re late everyone needs a ride, and drive *with caution.*

Moms that drive quietly with a carload of children buried in their phones are sure bets for sad feelings about shuttle service being your second game, until … a voice you recognize:

“Mom, did I tell you that you really remind me of Mrs. X.” Knowing this to his most favorite teacher of all time who is fully employed not just teaching but inspiring students and who you know speaks multiple languages, you ask: “Really? Why?” to which he replies in a tone you know has no other motive but to share his feelings, “Because you are both smart and kind and outgoing and I notice that sometimes you both like to be quiet.”

I know, I know, it was only a few words. But the words probably wouldn’t have been said unless quiet beat out grumble. And, if one of the people who knows you best sees your game and sees you doing it smartly and with kindness, then the dream gods have to be wrong.

Summer in Iceland

If you want to know how small Iceland is consider these two facts:  1) Until moving to Europe, we knew exactly one person from Iceland.  Though Thury now lives in Seattle, we happened to bump into her at the Reykjavik Airport on the day of our departure.   2) A few weeks ago we were at a party seated next to a couple from Iceland.  Though they now live in Luxembourg, not only were they surprised to hear that we visited their tiny hometown in Selfoss during our Iceland trip but that we also had a (bad) photo of their favorite Selfoss restaurant still on our iPhone camera roll.  That’s the kind of chance encounters you have when you visit a country with a population of only 325,000.

So, Iceland.  Rewinding a couple months ago for this post.

One of the many benefits of being an expat is an annual home trip.  We usually take ours in August when European beaches are jammed with the entire European labor force and their brothers, aunts, and second cousins.   Plus there’s no place like Seattle in August, or so I thought. 

This summer we, at my outdoor loving husband’s urging, decided to take Icelandair up on its well-publicized offer for a free stop-over in Iceland from Europe in route to the US.  You can stopover for up to seven days going either direction at no additional airfare.  I, of the outdoor liking kind, agreed to four.  That was before I consulted the Internet for average weather temperatures in August (brrr…..) and before I conferred with my three children who let me know I was in effect robbing them of their Seattle time (grrr….). The good news is it only takes one steamy photo of the Blue Lagoon to turn that frowny face upside down.   

Iceland started heavily promoting themselves as a tourist destination after the 2008 financial crisis as a means to boost revenue but the tipping point for tourism take-off was the 2010 eruption of the Volcanco Eyjafjallajökull.  This was the eruption that temporarily closed the airspace for 6 days and stranded 8 million passengers.  While the situation was unpleasant for those impacted, it did put Iceland and it’s geological wonder front and center in the global news cycle for 6 days.   With a blanket of TV footage, curiosity and interest peaked.   The number of annual tourists to Iceland doubled between 2008 and 2014. 

Chances are good once you tell someone you are heading to Iceland, much like seeing the car you just bought everywhere on the road, you’ll start noticing friends and friends of friends who’ve been.  I don’t know how most people do their Iceland stop-over but if the number of Reykjavik Excursions buses is any indication, many of them seem to be doing packaged bus tours or hitting the Blue Lagoon (near the airport) and Reykjavik and calling it 36 hours.   While there is nothing wrong with that approach, especially if time is limited, in my opinion Iceland is the ideal place to rent a car and do a self-driving tour. 

For starters, there is only one ring road around the entire island making it hard to get lost.  I am sensitive to getting lost and there simply aren’t enough roads in Iceland to make that a possibility.  Second, with a population density of 35 people per square kilometer versus 3 in the US, part of why you you’d visit Iceland is to get a humanity break. Being with a busload of people with selfie sticks would kill that vibe.  Third, while Reykjavik if a fine city - you can totally see it in a day and would be more than able to give out directions by 4pm.  Aside from the unusual looking Cathedral in central Reykjavik and glassed Opera House on the harbor, the architecture is all pretty flat and functional.   City hopping isn’t really an option as towns outside of Reykjavik are more village-sized and gateways to an outdoor attraction.  The reason to go to Iceland is squarely on the vast shoulders of the rugged and wholly unique landscape. 

Given the pride of Iceland is the outdoors, the best words of wisdom are to come prepared for it.  Think layers, waterproof clothing, sturdy shoes and several swimsuits.  Conditions change in a hot minute and usually without much warning.   We had ideal but completely atypical conditions without any rain.  When we have since mentioned that to people from Iceland, they seem to know the precise days in August we were there. 

The nice thing is that without the mental clutter of a long list of competing activities to do, you can give your full attention to the ever changing light.  Bubbling hot springs turn up at unexpected moments.  The vistas alternate between fertile and stark land.  We only scratched the surface touring around South Iceland, the most visited area with many of country’s best natural jewels, but it was enough to quiet the soul and long for another visit.

With the exception of a failed attempt to hike through the Thorsmork National Park past the site of the 2010 volcanic eruption at Eyjafjallajokull and a successful “city mountain” hike up Mount Esja outside of Reykjavik known mostly to locals, we didn’t much venture off the beaten track.  Unlike other places where you might be inclined to try the road not taken, the road around The Golden Circle is worth doing.  Where else can you see a still active geyser, a deafening waterfall, and 6,500 year old volcanic crater now serving as a window on the groundwater – all in the span of an afternoon?

What to do:

A guidebook on Iceland is very helpful as you set out your plan.  Many people like us start with Southwestern Iceland but there is also a lot to see in The West Fjords and Northwest Iceland.  A longer trip around the island would be a fun adventure.  We however made our base camp in Southwestern Iceland and did day trips from there. 

Hveragerdi Hot Springs.  Nothing reminds you that the earth’s core is hot, really hot, like a hot spring with white steam baiting you to come get warm and cozy.  Hveragerdi, 45km east of Reykjavik, is the capital of hot springs and the town we choose to stay in for the first three nights.   They have a geothermal area above the town.  It’s a short hike to the hot river and there are walking paths that continue beyond there.  Free.

Kerio Crater.  A 55m deep volcanic crater.  You can walk around the top of the crater and walk down into it.  Small donation requested to visit.

Gullfoss Waterfall.  A beautiful and powerful waterfall that is worthy of a visit.  Because it’s Iceland and they don’t sweat safety regulations, you can get close enough to feel the spray.  Free.    We saw several other waterfalls in the South but their Iceland names don’t seem to stick with me.

Geysir.  It’s fun to walk around the geothermal field with some dormant hot springs and some still active geysers and wait for the shooting tower of water.  You don’t even have to be patient as the Geyrir performs every few minutes.  As both Gulfoss and Geysir are big tourist attractions, you will be in some company but they do a nice job of not obscuring the beauty of nature’s highlights.  They also have good bathrooms and visitor centers at both stops.

Bruarhloo.  A gorgeous canyon formed by the river Hvita with interesting rock formations.  It’s situated between Geysir and Gulfoss and so very easy to access. For much of the time, we were the only ones there.  Maybe our most favorite stop to scramble around.

Thorsmork National Park.    Situated between mountains and glaciers, this park is endless with hiking trails.  But due to not having a 4x4 vehicle the hike we planned morphed into a less interesting walk through a lava field. 

How to get there:

For those in Luxembourg, we flew Icelandair out of Brussels and found inexpensive (and manageable walking distance close) long term parking.

Getting around:

There are multiple car rental companies on site at the Reykjavik Airport.  You should splurge for the four wheel drive.   We didn’t and regretted it.  Many of the trail heads are over rutted terrain and require a four wheel drive.  A two wheel drive says “I’m here to walk.” A four wheel drive says “Someone in my party is here to hike.”  Also be aware that the maximum speed on the entire island is 90kph.  With the open road and not very many cars, driving this slowly requires constant vigilance or me as a driver.  We did get pulled over (but not ticketed.)  Finally, it’s a bit desolate between Reykjavik and the airport so remember to gas up if needed before heading to the airport. 

Where to stay:

If you are traveling to Iceland in the summer, it is important to get a jump on accommodation.  Hotels and guest houses fill up quickly.

Frost & Fire Hotel, Hverhamar, 810 Hveragerði, Iceland; +354 483 5949;  Simple rooms with even simpler bathrooms in natural setting (each room exits directly to outside) one hour outside of Reykjavík close to sites in south of Iceland.  Well on the beaten path for good reason.  Not fancy.  Excellent breakfast included in rates.  Easy parking.

Kvosin Downtown Hotel, Kirkjutorg 4, 101 Reykjavik, Iceland; +354 571 4460; Nice, clean hip hotel apartments.  Centrally located with a price tag that reminds you of it.  Worth the splurge for one night.   Fixed breakfast with homemade muesli, yogurt and sourdough bread at next door’s cozy Bergsson Mathús included.  Not as easy street parking.

Where to eat:

Iceland portions are more US like than European like.  However like everything else in Iceland, eating out is expensive. Best to pull out a map to remind yourself how far away you are from everything in Iceland and you’ll forgive the high prices.

Kjallarinn Kitchen Bar.  Newish restaurant in Reykjavik tucked in a cave recommended to us by the hotel.  Fish, international fusion heaven on a plate.  Spendy but delicious and inventive dishes.  Best meal.

Apotek Kitchen Bar.  Hard to miss restaurant in the center of Reykjavik with seafood and free range lamb with a twist, 6 course dinner menu with much cheaper lunch and brunch menu.  Went once for brunch and a second time for lunch.  Nice atmosphere minus the ugly American returning her dish because it didn’t come out on a hot plate.   

Tryggvaskali Restaurant.  THE restaurant in Selfoss mentioned above.  Old house converted into charming restaurant where it’s possible you might even be seated in your own room.   Very small menu but the salmon with barley, baby broccoli, caramelized butter and blueberries is really all you need to know. (Also there is a hamburger on the menu.)

Kjot & Kunst.  If large portion size, traditional cooking and eating carrot cake out of thermal oven sounds interesting (and it did to us twice), this restaurant in  Hveragerdi gets the job done.  (We preferred it to restaurant at our hotel.)

An Easy Recipe

Photo courtesy of Anna Andersen

You know how sometimes your friend tells you, “I’ll send you the recipe. It’s so easy!” and then you open it up and think: liar, liar, kitchen on fire.

I’ve dished it as many times as I’ve been served it. In fact this week I had lunch with a new French friend who I’d met at a mutual friend’s birthday brunch, over one of my raspberry breakfast crumble bars. Where there are groups of women and good china out, we do like to put our best fork forward. The fruity bars were no Coq au vin, but anytime there is a food processor and two part baking process you won’t be whipping it up during a commercial break. You’ll be calendaring it for your next assignment.

In our email exchange before getting together, I forwarded the recipe with the “easy” disclaimer. I wanted to sound hopeful and competent. As we parted after a lovely lunch, she said: “Oh, and thanks for the recipe. I was going to make it but ….that was involved, no? I should send you some French cake recipes. They are very simple.”

Well, that was Tuesday. Today is Friday and I have a new outlook on easy.

This morning I was in my kitchen at 6:50am. By 7:07am, there were biscuits. Not just any biscuit but the lightest, tenderest, tastiest golden biscuits ever to grace an Ikea plate. In places where measuring precision and light touch is required (“don’t overwork the dough” may be the most open to interpretation baking instruction ever), I have a very uneven and sometimes inedible past.

But these biscuits. These biscuits were CHAMPION’S LEAGUE. My audience swooned. I briefly played the kitchen martyr. There was none left by 7:27am.

The secret? Two ingredients. That’s right – two ingredients. No butter. No pastry cutter. Definitely no Bisquick for 3,000 miles. Only a wooden spoon and two ingredients: self-rising flour and heavy cream. A recipe where anyone can be a hero.

I wouldn’t have believed it either except if you’ve ever made a recipe from J. Kenji Lopez-Alt from Serious Eats.com, you know this guy is serious about the science of good food. The recipe, the truly easy recipe, is called, “Two Ingredient Never-Fail Cream Biscuits.” It's not a new idea. Kenji even admitted: "But not everything worth making is brand new."

After I polished off the last biscuit I hid this morning, it got me to thinking about how Jesus summed up what we needed to know by telling us to do two things: love the Lord our God *with everything* and love our neighbor *as ourselves*. That these two things Never-Fail. It seems like as we get more comfortable in our own kitchens of faith or where there is an audience to impress, we often try to add in more ingredients and over complicate the recipe. But I wonder if we tried to stick to the basics, these two ingredients, would we be lighter and more tender?

One might argue that heavy cream can stand on its own. Flour, like love for your God, definitely cannot. It is an important ingredient but it can’t rise – do what it was meant to do- all by itself. It needs to be worked into the fat of relationships, the ones you choose and the ones you don’t. Then when the flour is coated in the richness of risking love, showing mercy and overthrowing self for the sake of our neighbors (here I must mention the ones we can’t find any little thing to agree about), does it finally come together into dough. It’s sticky and must be handled with care. But once the two loves are mixed in roughly the right proportions, it now has the potential to withstand the heat and produce something very, very tasty.

It’s that easy, no?

Fall Hiking in Switzerland

With so many places to see and limited time, you need travel short cuts.   Person to person recommendations are often the best.  We asked our Swiss friends Christian and Iris for their favorite day hiking destination in the Swiss Alps.  Avid hikers both before and after kids, their favorite spot is LENK IN SIMMENTAL which offers easy valley hiking, more challenging and varied mountain paths, and higher more technical alpine climbs.

GSTAAD is a destination in the Berner Oberland with an international reputation but nearby Lenk in Simmental has the Swiss reputation.  It has been awarded as one of the best Swiss holiday family resorts for both its winter and summer activities.  Like Gstaad it has a charming, picturesque village but it trades the designer label shops for more outdoor stores and a working population.  While it caters to the outdoor enthusiast, it feels like a more authentic Swiss village.  For those of you familiar with recreational areas in Idaho, Lenk is the Hailey to Sun Valley’s Ketchum.

Sitting at an altitude of just over 1000 meters, Lenk is in the Simmental valley about 65km southwest of Interlaken.  The valley has 600km of walking trails and 290 km of mountain bike trails for all levels, so plenty to keep busy for a long weekend.  One of the attractions is the compactness of the outdoor activity which means no time is wasted in getting to your activity.  It's a great destination for both families and older people.

With a recent dusting of snow on the highest peaks and idyllic late September weather, the only challenge was choosing which of the hiking and mountain trails to do.  (We weren't looking to do any of the more advanced alpine or overnight trails, much to my husband's dismay.)  There too we had help from the owner of the hotel that was also recommended to us by Christian and Iris.  (see below in “Where to Stay.”)

On the first day, we took the gondola up to LEITERLI above Lenk.  There is an easy 3km loop hike on the top with beautiful vista views and interesting sign posts (in Swiss) about Lenk’s history.   There are several additional trails to do from the top which, if the weather is good, we’d recommend over hiking back down to Lenk.  From Leiterli back down to Lenk there is a discovery Marmot Trail (3 km) and Lynx Trail (6 km) aimed at kids but its ankle breaking steep and not quite as interesting for older kids.  There is another themed trail called the Alpine Flower Trail with 95 plant species that would have been lovely to do when the wildflowers are in season.

On the second day, we took the bus to IFFIGENALP (which is not accessible by gondola.)  From there we did an up and net down hike past several beautiful waterfalls and lots of cows.  One of the treats of hiking in Switzerland are all the old chalets en route where you can usually stop for a drink and buy some locally made cheese.    We extended what would have been a 3.5 hour mountain hike finishing in Simmenfalle into a leisurely 5 hour stroll.  Had it just been Brett and Lawton on the hike, they would have traded the stroll for a 600 meter add on climb to Flueseehutte.  The two of them are already plotting their return.

Getting there:

It’s a 5.5 hour drive to Lenk in Simmental from Luxembourg without traffic.  Expect some delays near Strasbourg and a few tolls in France.  The last hour of drive is on windy two lane road so it’s advisable to drive in daylight.  You will need to stop and buy the Swiss autobahn toll sticker (cost of 40 Swiss francs for one calendar year) when crossing into Switzerland.  If you fly, nearest airport is in Bern which is 1.5 hours by car or 2.5 hours by train.   From Zurich Airport it is 2.5 hours by car and 3.5 hours by train.

Getting around:

It is nice to have a car but if you are staying in the town center of Lenk, you can easily manage without one.  The Lenk bus leaves regularly from the train station in the town center to many of the trail heads and in some cases (where roads are only open one direction on an hourly schedule) is a better option than driving.  

Where to Stay:

At our friend’s recommendation, we stayed at HOTEL SIMMENHOF, Lenkstrasse 43 | 3775 Lenk Im Simmental, Lenk-Simmental 3775, Switzerland; +41 33 736 34 34; Family-run hotel 1km from the center of Lenk; large spacious family rooms available; indoor pool with smaller outdoor pool; free and excellent WiFi; exceptionally kid friendly; hearty breakfast offering included; onsite restaurant for dinner; free parking and shuttle service into Lenk; owners are as helpful and good as any tourist office.  90% of guests are Swiss.

If you have a few more francs to rub together or you want to be in town, LENKERHOF GOURMENT SPA RESORT is the highest rated hotel in the area and looked to be a special spot, Badstrasse 20 | Postfach 241, Lenk-Simmental 3775, Switzerland; :+41 33 736 36 36.

There are numerous other hotels in the town as well as a number of rental properties.  Because it is mostly a skiing destination, you should have ample lodging options for hiking seasons.

Where to Eat:

One does not travel to Switzerland for the food, but a warm Rösti (elevated hashbrowns with cheese and often an egg on top) after a day of hiking goes down easy.   There are 27 restaurants listed on Trip Advisor in Lenk.  We asked around for recommendations, which landed us at these two spots for dinner both of which worked well.

Hirschen Lounge Bar, Oberriedstrasse 1, Lenk-Simmental 3775, Switzerland; don’t mistake the red and white table clothes for pizza; interesting menu with excellent Rösti and very good vegetarian Spätzle with local chanterelles; average pasta dishes and make your own hamburgers; slightly slow service but the night was also quite busy.

Elk Bar & Restaurant, Oberriedstrasse 13, Lenk-Simmental CH-3775, Switzerland; large more modern than traditional Swiss restaurant with excellent terrace; aside from the parsnip soup and house salad nothing that floated above average but food is simple, service was good and there’s something for everyone on the menu. 

Mad-o-meter

It seems impossible your mad-o-meter can go from zenzero to wristlock in thirty seconds. In church. But they we were.

It started out flowers and fresh air. We had walked there. Everyone including the Conserve Water While Showering Zealot knew better than to suggest driving on a beautiful September morning. Conservation talk cuts both ways. I hadn’t even actively discouraged the scooter. Aside from my skinny-in-the-wrong-place jeans constricting round my legs like a permanent calf raise on dumbbell shoes, it had been a pleasant approach to the pew.

Truth be told, we don’t actually have pews. We have red chairs.

We were even on time. Granted the service starts at 11:45am but getting a teenager, middle schooler, and a child with a lot of questions to church after Daddy’s been gone for 7 days and after an evening of wine tasting is something I think God notices.

The service starts with singing, my favorite part.

Within five minutes, two of my children had left their red chairs – past me on the end - in search of water. Within seven minutes, one of the water-bound children also wanted a sip of my tea, animating to everyone sitting behind us that it was too hot. Between minutes seven and eight, there was a minor sibling altercation that always looks MAJOR to a Mother mid-hymn followed by a much too vigorous refusal to switch seats because “he wanted to see what his brother was writing.” Who’s writing while we are supposed to be singing anyway?????

At minute eight my eyes were closed in worship. At minute eight thirty, we were in wristlock and making our way to the back for a conversation. Unfortunately the offering was being passed at the exact moment of exit but these things happen seem to happen without much warning when you cede control to people who have chosen to sit in the almost front row.

It’s probably worth noting that the “everyone sitting behind us” may have included a school teacher I have a tiny problem with for sending students- mine included -out of the class for what I can only conclude is misbehavior, asking a question or breathing too deeply.

It occurred to me somewhere between the “You can never sit next to your brother in church again” edict and the rope I was now trespassing to sit in the last row of red chairs that maybe I was overreacting a tiny bit. That perhaps my big movement to the back in wristlock was more noticeable than whatever altercation preceded it. That maybe I wanted my children to behave just a little more than I wanted to worship. That maybe I cared even more with an audience, especially when the audience includes people you have a tiny problem with.

Once safely in the last row, the mad-o-meter continued to register for a bit. I even tried to make eye contact with the almost front row who was carrying on writing until I realized – all too vigorous sign language confusion a clue- that maybe it was time to let it go. That maybe I should carry on letting God meet me in my red chair and my too tight jeans and ask for a change of attitude.

I know he listens when we ask him for that. I know that because instead of bolting out the door at the end of the service which would have been to plan, I stopped to introduce myself to a family I hadn’t seen before. They were in fact new to Luxembourg and new to the church. I got to be their welcome. Me, the one with tiny attitude issues, who had just been welcomed back herself.

Am I a Good Parent?

(whew 3 months is a long time between posts!)

I don’t much follow business news anymore but my 73 year old father-in-law turned me on to the Financial Times management columnist Lucy Kellway whose no nonsense approach to office life I continue to find insightful and entertaining. Because I don’t have a paid subscription to the Financial Times, I listen to Lucy’s weekly column as a 5 minute podcast (smartly called “Listen to Lucy”) on Stitcher (next to Facebook, my most well-touched iPhone app.)

This week Lucy had an engaging column “Am I a Good Parent?” which was the message of a recent UBS online banner ad campaign, the implication of course being that good parents provide financial stability for their children. If only it were that easy. Seeing the question as the minefield that it is with no universal standards for what makes a good parent and no independent arbiter to judge, Lucy posited the question to 40 of her work colleagues over email. None of the working women responded (:<) All of the men responded “Yes” and their whys were nicely bucketed into three categories: 1) They have been involved in the process through time and sacrifice, 2) The end result, treating child as product, has turned out well. 3) My kid, treating child as customer, tells me I’m doing a good job. Lucy counters each of these responses as incomplete answers finally concluding, “It’s a labor of love. Good and bad don’t come into it.”

While I agree with her in principle, I find the conclusion somewhat unsatisfying. As parents we want to know we are doing a good job. We appreciatively hear and file away the parenting attaboys we receive. We glory in the moments when our children think us cool or better yet, right. But more than affirmation, we want hard evidence that we are doing it well at least most of the time. Yes it’s a labor of love where the traditional x’s and o’s don’t apply but the “wait for launch and see” approach seems a reckless gamble with what UBS and we know is our biggest investment.

There are some places in life, car shopping for example, where comparisons are helpful. As much as we know comparison parenting is unreliable because it’s a moving target (your peers are not my peers), sometimes we can’t help ourselves. Sometimes a peer comparison makes us feel cheerfully normal but just as often it makes us feel smug or inferior. And even when it makes us feel normal we have this lurking feeling that each child and family culture is so unique that our momentary relief of being “on benchmark” is fleeting at best. Plus, unlike a car, you can’t get under the hood of another household to see how things really look on the inside when visitors aren’t allowed.

Process or time put in seems a decent proxy for good work but that always feels like a call to arms between working and stay at home parents. I’ve lived on both sides of the divide and know there is good and bad in both camps. A parent may give impressive amounts of their time by coaching their kid and then bully them into better performance. Another parent may have fewer, less publicized hours to give but with greater intention and connection. Certainly there is a baseline of time investment in order to be an effective parent as well as healthy doses of expansive, unscripted time but the scale is different for each child. Not to mention the secondary benefit to children when they see their parent invested in and renewed by meaningful work. I stand with Lucy. We can’t agree on one process.

As children get older, the temptation to look at child as product is very compelling. We start laying claim to their physical appearance as soon as they are out of the womb and the land grab continues with each achievement they earn, particularly in areas we either had our own success or could be credited for helping them discover. It’s tempting because they are in some senses a product of us and their environment which we either carefully or haphazardly created but if they were merely a product we’d know how to recreate them to spec. Anyone with multiple children can tell you that is both impossible and hilarious. The idea of looking at child as consumer is even more problematic because we know the world won’t be so generous.

When I asked my own children the question “What makes a good parent?” the first thing one of them said was: “All parents make mistakes.” It’s always good to get that out of the way first. He then went on to say, “Kids who have good parents are respectful, obedient and operate within a set of values which may or may not be the same as their parents.” While that sounds mostly good (Judge Mom wished that he had said compassionate over obedient) and easy for kids with a predisposition towards compliance, the idea of “good parents have good kids and bad parents have bad kids” is wrought with so many problems and exceptions that it only took two minutes for my nine year old to remind us all about the story of Matilda – good kid, horrible parents.

The one thing that Lucy didn’t entertain was measuring ourselves as good parents by how purposefully we animate virtue to our children, or what David Brooks terms “eulogy virtues vs resume virtues.” During my discussion with my kids, one of them explained that he thought parents over focused on teaching life skills (resume virtues) like how to hold a fork or how to do laundry when “as humans, we can figure a lot of that stuff out on our own.” But eulogy virtues like joy, peace, patience, kindness, humility, generosity, gentleness, self-control need to be taught by people in proximity. It requires a combination of a few words, a lot of action, and dogged consistency. Who else would willingly sign up for that job?

“How To” teaching only requires that we know our subject, “How to Be” teaching demands a reflex of character that’s only there if you are actively committing to living out what doesn’t always come natural every day. It is easy to be kind when we aren’t irritated; it’s hard to show kindness in the middle of a shitstorm. It is easy to have oatmeal for breakfast; it is harder to have oatmeal at a breakfast buffet and not let the entire table know about our restraint. Our kids need to receive our gentleness when they make a horrible mess and extra doses of it when that mess embarrasses us. They need to see us activate our strengths and be vocally self-critical of our weaknesses. They need us to show them examples of how joy doesn’t erase suffering but sometimes springs from it. With intention around virtue, seeds are planted and blooms eventually spring but it's often slow and not always in the places you expected.

With this definition, the question of whether or not one is a good parent is no more measurable than any of the previous attempts but I sense it’s a better question we can answer for ourselves because we will find the answer somewhere deep in our bones. It’s an answer we aren’t obliged to share over email.