A STROLL DOWN MEMORY LANE
BY SARAH TONIN
I stand outside, feeling the cold winter air whip from mountains of the Alps, and gently caress my rosy cheeks, holding the ceramic mug closer to my body for warmth. I made the decision a few years ago to go back to Germany, the place I was born and where I spent a lot of time as a child, to experience everything again as an adult. What better way, than to go during the best time of year, and visit some of the most popular Christmas markets in the country? Weihnachtsmarkt as they are called, or if you're from the Southern region or Austria like I am, Kindlemarkt. Regardless of what town you're in, many businesses close for the season to become a full-fledged Christmas shops of their choosing. For instance, the seamstress and shoe repair place we would visit during the year, would close for a few weeks in the beginning of November before reemerging as a Christmas ornament and candle shop. The streets are lined with other businesses that did the same and are now hosting trinkets for sale, geared for the Christmas season.
The ominous clouds above me, and forecasts of snow, are out shadowed by strands of lights, bowing and arching, making zig-zag patterns over the walkway. The air is filled with music, voices, laughter, and pure joy. Peppered in amongst the vendors on each side, are jolly folks welcoming you over, to fill your mugs with warm spiced wine called Glühwein, which everyone is more than happy to accept — especially me. I can't get enough of it. Its warmth and scent is intoxicating, and although the steam billows off the surface, it's the perfect drinking temperature. The sensation of cinnamon and clove tickle the tongue and dance across it with the zest of orange, before my pallet is soothed with the smoothness of red wine laced with hints of vanilla in every sip. I run my thumb over the slightly raised image of the town which portrays the very market I'm currently standing in, that's hand painted on my cup. Each town has their own mug for the event, and as you walk through the market you can get it repeatedly refilled along the way.
I take another sip and savor the aroma and flavor before continuing with my journey. With each step, the memories come flooding back. I remember strolling through this same market when I was younger. I held a mug of cocoa rather than Glühwein back then, and I wasn't tall enough to see through some of the windows of the shops, but the same wonder and excitement that fascinated me then, fills me now. I can hear a choir of voices singing from the open windows of the building that surrounds the plaza, and somewhere out of sight, a live band plays music to accompany them. Everyone is smiling and happy and some people are arm-in-arm singing along. It's so easy to get swept up in the festivities that you don't even need the alcohol to entice you into a good mood. A large Christmas tree towers in the center of the square, and reminds me of the tree we had during the holidays that took up the majority of our living room when I was a child. Sturdy branches held candle holders that were securely fastened. In the evening we'd light each one, which would illuminate the tree. Then that evening before bed and prayers, we'd blow them out. This was an old tradition and the origin for the use of stringed lights we use today. Many of the customs Americans use during Christmas, like hanging stockings, decorating and lighting a tree originated in Germany.
As I pass a brightly lit shop packed with festive displays, something in the window catches my eye. I move away from the laughter and music, and step inside to the sparkling lights of the room. When I get nearer, I feel a ping in my heart because I see something that I haven't seen or even thought of in over 30 years since I lived at home with my parents.
Made of thin lightweight foil, small figures intricately folded into the shape of angels holding instruments are attached to a thin wire that's secured to a center metal post mounted to a square platform. Little inserts in the base provide a space for candles. Once they're lit and the heat begins to rise, the warm waves catch the angled edges of the gowns on the angels suspended above them, and they slowly begin to move in a circle around the center post. As long as the flame is going, it will spin continuously. I am mesmerized as I watch the parade of angels holding a harp, flute, and violin appear to float in front of my eyes.
The whole piece only stands about six inches, but as I watch them dance, I realize the memory of having a similar one growing up still holds a place in my heart. I am immediately filled with emotion as the memories come flooding back. During the holidays, the one we had remained lit every day, and sat in the center of our dining room table. I remember countless meals, sitting eye level to the spinning, hovering angels, while stuffing my face with delicious meals and treats. Desserts were not common in our household growing up, but Christmas was the exception.
Each year, I would help my Oma (grandmother) make a ginger-pear strudel. Together we'd lay out the thin sheets of pastry, drizzle it with butter and crushed gingersnap cookies and stack sheets on top of each other with the same tasty concoction until we were 10 layers deep. The night before, we'd chop dried apples, pears and walnuts and let them soak in brandy overnight, allowing them to absorb all the liquid. I got to spoon the mixture onto the pastry, which was my favorite part, mostly because I would sneak a bite or two of the alcohol infused fruit when no one was looking. Since my Oma had longer arms, she would carefully roll the delicate pastry into a shape of a log before baking it to a golden, crispy brown. There were other components including a special infused cream sauce and fresh apples and pears in a thick, spiced syrup, that made the dish absolutely divine and I looked forward to both making it and eating it, every year.
I don't have the opportunity to cook with my Oma anymore, or celebrate with all my family, but I can still keep the traditions alive. So with that thought, I ask the round-faced man behind the counter, to box up the angel centerpiece for me. The nice thing about it being made out of thinly formed leaf-like material, means it will store nicely under my seat on the plane on the ride home. I'm determined to bring the experience of the Kindlemarkt home with me and create new memories. I’ve made the strudel so many times, I am certain I know the recipe by heart. I plan on making it when I get home, just as I will with the Glühwein. I even have the keepsake mug I can drink it in. With a pot of the mulled wine, warming on the stove and strudel browning in the oven, sending their nostalgic and comforting aromatics in the air, I know I can recreate these special memories. I can hear it, taste it, and smell it. Although years and thousand miles away, I will forever hold Christmas in Germany in my heart!
Frohe Weihnachten! | ST