Χαθηκε ο Γαυρος στο Βορρα,

τον εφαγε ο Βαρδαρης

καβαλα τον επηγαινε

στου Χαριλαου ο Αρης!!!

Εβογγαγε και εσκουζε

“τι μου μελε να παθω;”

μεσα στη νυμφη του βορρα

την παρθενια να χασω;” (Σημειωση 1η)

Ο Αρης μας εκαλπαζε

και δεν εχαμπαριαζε

κι ο γαυρος πηγε προωρες διακοπες

μετα απο τις απειρες καρπαζιες

Ο Βαζελος εχαρηκε

πρωταθλητης εβγηκε

μεσα στο καταχειμωνο

στην πρωτη θεση κειται

Κι εκει θα ναι μεχρι το τελος

πρωταθλητης για τη χρονια ο βαζελος

Στον πολεμο και τον ερωτα ολα ειναι θεμιτα

εστω και με τον αρη εβγηκαμε

τα πρωτα τα παιδια

Σημειωση 1η: αυτη ειναι η πρωτη ηττα του ΟΣΦΠ αυτη τη σαιζον

Ενα ρεμαλι μεσα στο λιμανι

αργοσερνεται

μονο η σκια του φαινεται

ειναι η ομαδαρα του σωκρατη

που επεσε θυμα του Αρη του τρομοκρατη

που την αμολησε την οβιδα

και εσκισε του γαυρου την κ…τρυπιδα (Σημειωση 2η)

Σημειωση 2η: Γαυρακια μην σκοτιζεσθε, στην αρχη ποναει λιγο, μετα θα σας αρεσει!

Ειμαστε βαζελες

διαλεχτα παιδια μεσα στην πιατσα

σκιστε τις σαρδελες

ο θρυλος μας εγινε χλαπατσα!

Καλα Χρισουγεννα σε ολους

μα πιο πολλα στους γαυρους

Και με τη νεα τη χρονια

θα κανουμε γυροβολια

ειμαστε πρωταθλητες

ολε ολε ολε!!!!

]]> http://panathinaeos.wordpress.com/2009/12/21/%cf%84%cf%81%ce%b9%cf%86%cf%85%ce%bb%ce%bb%ce%b1%cf%81%ce%b1-%ce%bf%ce%bb%ce%ad-%ce%b5%ce%b9%ce%bc%ce%b1%cf%83%cf%84%ce%b5-%cf%80%cf%81%cf%89%cf%84%ce%b1%ce%b8%ce%bb%ce%b7%cf%84%ce%b5%cf%82-%cf%87/feed/ 12 panathinaeos αρης ΑΘΛΗΤΙΚΑ ΝΕΑ ΠΡΩΤΑΘΛΗΤΗΣ ΝΤΕΡΜΠΙ images pao http://panathinaeos.wordpress.com/2009/12/19/die-tote-stadt-the-dead-city/ http://panathinaeos.wordpress.com/2009/12/19/die-tote-stadt-the-dead-city/#comments Sat, 19 Dec 2009 19:43:48 +0000 panathinaeos http://panathinaeos.wordpress.com/?p=2912 ]]>

The mind is like Ariadne’s thread! When I read Katerina’s response to my post on Riga, my mind traveled to the Dead City, Die Tote Stadt, the Opera of Erich Korngold. and its magnificent aria, “Joy sent from above”. I dedicate this post to Katerina.

Ariadne with Dionysos, 4th century BC, from Chalki Greece, Louvre Museum

The opera is based on a novel by Georges Rodenbach, Bruges la Morte. The story is about Paul, a man who lost his wife Maria, and wonders in the city of Bruges, half asleep half awake, in a state of hallucination and mental disorder.

Marietta is a woman he meets and he considers to be Maria. Eventually he gets over the trauma of losing Maria, and leaves Bruges to continue his life.

Egon Schiele: Die Tote Stadt

“Mariettas lied” [Glück das mir verblieb}

Glück, das mir verblieb,
rück zu mir, mein treues Lieb.
Abend sinkt im Hag
bist mir Licht und Tag.
Bange pochet Herz an Herz
Hoffnung schwingt sich himmelwärts.

Joy, sent from above

Hold me close, my faithful love

Darkness ends the day

You will light my way

Fear is throbbing in our hearts

Hope is rising heavenward

Naht auch Sorge trüb,
rück zu mir, mein treues Lieb.
Neig dein blaß Gesicht
Sterben trennt uns nicht.
Mußt du einmal von mir gehn,
glaub, es gibt ein Auferstehn.

Joyful days must flee

Dearest love, stay close to me

Time will pass away

But true love will stay

Though we have to part in pain

Yonder there we'll meet again

Erich Korngold

Anne Sofie von Otter, the Swedish mezzo-soprano, in one of the best performances of the aria. The music of the aria is subliminal heaven. Otter’s singing is divine. The chamber atmosphere emphasizes the sensitivity of the music. I do not need to say anything more.

Last week I went for a quick visit to Riga, in Latvia.

Rain and clouds and temperature around zero. The locals were complaining that they should by now have snow and subzero temperatures!

The main square at ten o’clock in the morning was quiet, although the Christmas market stalls were open.

The crisis is quite severe in the country. A young girl stops me in the middle of the street, asking for help, in perfect English. An old man tries to sell to me some pictures of Riga.

This bakery gave some warmth to the otherwise cold and empty urban space.

This view of the old buildings with the unpaved ground in the front is quite unique. Had the cars not been parked there, we could be back in the 19th century.

The city is impecably clean, you do not even see a cigarette butt on the street.

Lets not forget the communist past. The cold, impersonal totalitarian buildings that nullify the individual human being.

This nice girl was preparing her two horses for a ride in town. They live in a farm out of town and come in Riga for the holiday season, offering to tourists a nice horse ride. The two horses pull a two wheel carriage.

Back in the square with the Christmas market, where I met this nice lady who proudly displays a box with marinated eels.

In her stall I discovered the elongated brown golden smoked eels, but I could not buy them as I would certainly be stopped by customs. The smell was extremely strong!

But then it was not only the marinated and smoked eel that atracted me. What can I say about the abundance of the smoked fishes around the market?

In a nearby stall, two ladies were oferring blood suasage and smoked bacon.

Time to move on, or I will eat the whole bloody (literally) lot!

All around the old town you can see a mix of architectural styles that reminds us of the vitality and the power of the baltic state centuries ago.

I stayed in the old town, at the “Grand Palace Hotel”, and was quite happy there, even though I stayed for only one night. The building is beautiful maintained, and has the features of a mansion. The reception area is the entry hall of the mansion.

I had dinner at the Hotel’s Restaurant, and am happy to say this was a very good choice! Exc ellent service, and way above average food. Here is the amuse boouche, a slice of jamon rolled around grapefruit eith a touch of balsamico on the side.

My first dish was salmon tartar, which was excellent. I especially liked the layer of avocado cubes, and the red fish roe. Perfect company for the samon, which was trully raw.

For the main dish I got the breast of duck, medium – rare, and again, hit the pot! The meat was juicy, with firm texture and gamey taste, the thin layer of fat crunchy and tasty.

Back to the Christmas Market, where the cheese and carrot tarts are perfect for desert, with sweet hot wine served in a glass.

Some tasty rolls for breakfast.

Au revoir Riga!

Due to the extreme pressure exerted on me by the atelier members, I present today “Take One” of the festive menu, to get the dialog and exchange of ideas started. This is a conceptual presentation, there are no real photos of the dishes.

First Dish

The first dish is the opening of the experience. It has to be adventourus, but at the same time familiar, so it does not have to fight the distance.

My choice is trout tartar, served with pears marinated in Greek Tsipouro (grappa) and leaks confit.  

Main Dish

The main dish is always a big gamble, as you have ot meet and excced the expectations that were (hopefully) created from the first dish.

I propose a Millefeuille of roast pork leg with chestnuts, prunes, green and red gabbage and craked wheat.

The leafs are paper thin slices of the leg, the cream is made of all the ingredients listed above. It is served with caramelized carrots and potatoes. 

Desert

My favourite is a Chocolate and Chestnut charlotte.

This is it for now folks, the ball is over to you!

In rather damp and chilly weather conditions, you need warm and rich dishes to support you. One of them is cannelloni with beef and parmesan. Cannelloni are time consuming to fill, but the reward for the patient cook is the splendid combination of the filling with the pasta shell, which is a quite different experience from eating pasta.

I do not use ground meat when I can, as I do not like the texture. Instead, I prepare a rich ragu and then break it into threads. The best cust is the short plate.

I separate the meat from the bones, and cook in a big pot with carrots, onions and peppers.

After three hours, I take off the heat and let it cool off. Once it is cool, I cut it in chunks and then break the chunks in threads.

I place the meat in a shallow pot and then add the boiled mashed vegetables, a bit of tomato paste and olive oil to season, and leave to simmer for 30 minutes in medium heat.

We are now ready to fill the cannelloni.

On top I prefer to put a rich tomato sauce, with all the juices of the meat, and grated parmesan.

Place in a very hot oven for 15 minutes and you have a wonderful meal.

With this dish you need a red wine with body. Enjoy it!

Giuseppe Ungaretti is one of the giants of modern Italian poetry. He is the second modern Italian poet I present in this blog, the first having been Salvatore Cuasimodo. Ungaretti is brief, his language condensed to the absolute minimum. I was introduced to him by a very good friend who has since then “distanced” herself, but the memory and the intensity remains to date. This post is dedicated to her, with the full appreciation of the fact that she has been “lost” to me, but remains in the sweet cabinets of my memory.

Lets read Ungaretti’s “morning”.

Mattino

M’illumino
d’immenso

Morning

I flood myself with the light

of the immense

Can  language be more condensed than that?

Ungaretti was born in 1888 in Alexandria, Egypt. His parents were Italians from the Tuscan city of Lucca. His father, a worker in the Suez canal, died when Giuseppe was 2. His mother ran a bakery in the city limits, bordering with the desert.

Variations on Nothing

That negligible bit of sand which slides
Without a sound and settles in the hourglass,
And the fleeting impressions on the fleshy-pink,
The perishable fleshy-pink, of a cloud…

Then a hand that turns over the hourglass,
The going back for flowing back, of sand,
The quiet silvering of a cloud
In the first few lead-gray seconds of dawn…

The hand in shadow turned the hourglass,
And the negligible bit of sand which slides
And is silent, is the only thing now heard,
And, being heard, doesn’t vanish in the dark.

Ungaretti went to Paris when he was 24 and started working as a journalist.

He served in the Italian army in the first world war and that’s when he discovered his poetic talent.  With Montale and Cuasimodo, he is considered the founder of the School of Ermetismo, or Hermeticism.

From left to right: Montale, Cuasimodo, Ungaretti

Like many other great men, Ungaretti was friendly to fascism and Musssolini. Heidegger comes in mind, Ezra Pound… I will never come to terms with this. One comforting explanation may be relevant to their distance from the “real” life of society. Men of the Mind, who are Men of a different world!

Hymn to Death

Love, my young emblem,

Returned to brighten the earth,

Diffused between the rocky day,

It is the last time that I gaze

(By the foot of the ditch, glorious

With gushing water, dark

With caves) at the path of light

Which like the moaning turtle dove

Moves heedless across the grass.

Love, shining health,

The coming years weigh heavy upon me.

Casting aside the faithful walking stick,

I will slip into the dark water

Without regret.

Death, arid river

Forgetful sister, death,

You will be like a dream

As you kiss me.

I will have your footstep,

I will walk without leaving a footprint.

You will give me the motionless heart

Of a God, I will be innocent,

I will no longer have thoughts nor kindness.

With my mind walled up,

With my eyes fallen into oblivion,

I will act as a guide for happiness.

1925

The picture that you see is not a fake. You see pigs with black feet (pata negra) enjoying the environment of woods and waters in Spain) in one of the farms of Joselito, may be the most famous producer of bellota (acorn fed) ham. The leg is cured for a period ranging from 2 to 4 years and the whole process transforms the flesh of the acorn fed pig into a symphony of flavours. In addition, due to the chemical composition of acorns, the fat of the pig is transformed into an olive oil tasting substance.

There is no way to relay the whole experience, one has to taste this beautiful piece of cured meat. During my recent visit to Munich, Manolis welcomed me with a whole leg of Joselito’s bellota ham. This post is dedicated to Manolis and Joselito.

I start with the presentation of the whole leg on its stand, as presented to me upon my entry in Manolis’ dining room. Next to it, stands a bottle of rioja, “Castillo Ygay”, of 1978. The little card has a poem of Manolis:

“Το συντεκνο ο Μανωλιος

για να καλωσορισει

τον Χοσελιτο εστειλε

να τον προυπαντησει”

(liberally translated this means:

Preparing to  welcome his brother,

Manolis has sent Joselito

to greet him)

The task of slicing is what can destroy or glorify the meat. The thinner the slice, the bigger is the surface exposed to the air, thus more aromas are released. But the most important seems to me is the marbling of the meat, these thin translucent lines of  fat that give to the meat the unique flavor. Although the initial treatment of the leg is in a mix of salt and herbs, the meat is not salty at all! This is the first sign of quality.

Eating Joselito ham is a long process, that requires very good wine, that can accept the role of the second violin, as the first violin and the conductor of the orchestra is unquestionably, Joselito! The experience grows on you as you overcome the shock of the first tasting. I have tasted Joselito now since 2003, and it is always a revelation. The aftertaste is long and complex. This requires a slow eating process, long pauses to enjoy, to close your eyes, to relax and retreat into the world of the senses!

The first day’s session lasted almost 6 hours, and as you can see it had a noticeable  impact on the leg.

When you see the meat close up, you will be impressed by the thick ruby color. Another important feature of bellota ham, is that it sweats, i.e. it releases its fat gradually and steadily once it is cut.

The hard work of day 1 required a second wine, which was a native Austrian red, with the impressive name “Admiral”, produced by Poeckl, in 1999.

The hard work with Joselito work continued on day 2 and the results are noticeable.

After such a wonderful experience, you are no longer a mere mortal, but an angel. May be not as beautiful as the Angel created by Manolis’s daughter, Athina, but nevertheless an Angel!

"Angel", by Athina Payatakis

Thank you Manolis, thank you Marion, thank you Athina, for this wonderful treat!

Thank you little acorn fed piggy! You are an angel too!

Thank you Jose Gomez, for producing the ham!

Αυτη η μερα ειναι γεματη μνημες. Μνημες αγαπημενων που πεθαναν αλλα δεν χαθηκαν. Ο θανατος του Αλεξη Γρηγοροπουλου αποτελεσε την αφορμη για αυτη την αναρτηση, που οντας γεματη Θανατο αποπειραται να  στοχαστει και να τον κατανικησει δια του στοχασμου και της μνημης.

The day brings a lot of memories. Memories of loved ones who are no longer with me on this earth. The trigger for this shower of memories is the death of a 15 old student – Alexis Grigoropoulos – last year by a policeman in downtown Athens.

Θελω να κανω αρχη με το υπεροχο ποιημα του Γκετε “Der Erlkoenig”, που το μελλοποιησε ο Σουμπερτ. Εδω εχομε την ανυπερβλητη ερμηνεια του βαρυτονου Dietrich Fischer Dieskau.

I want to start with Goethe’s poem “Der Erlkoenig”, which Schuebert turned into a beautiful song (lieder).

There is no better interpretation of the approach of Death, its flirting with the innocent child, and the final abduction.

Here it is sung by the King of Baritones, Dietrich Fischer Dieskau.

Ποιος καλπαζει τοσο αργα μεσα στο σκοταδι και τον ανεμο;

Ειναι ο πατερας με το παιδι του.

Κρατει το παιδι μεσα στην γουβα του χεριου του

Το κρατει προστατευμενο, και ζεστο.

Who rides, so late, through night and wind?
It is the father with his child.
He holds the boy in the crook of his arm
He holds him safe, he keeps him warm.

“Γιε μου, γιατι σκεπαζεις το προσωπο σου με τοση αγωνια;”

“Πατερα, δεν τον βλεπεις τον Βασιλια;

Τον Βασιλια με την κορωνα και την ουρα;”

“Γιε μου, ενα παιχνιδι της ομιχλης ειναι”

“My son, why do you hide your face so anxiously?”
“Father, do you not see the Erl king?
The Erl king with crown and tail?”
“My son, it’s a wisp of fog.”

“Αγαπημενο μου Παιδι, ελα, φυγε μαζι μου!

Ποσα πανεμορφα παιχνιδια θα παιξω εγω μαζι σου!

Στην παραλια μας περιμενουν τοσα ομορφα λουλουδια

κι η μητερα μου εχει τοσες χρυσες φορεσιες”

“You lovely child, come, go with me!
Many a beautiful game I’ll play with you;
Some colourful flowers are on the shore,
My mother has many golden robes.”

“Πατερα, πατερα μου, ακουσες

Τις υποσχεσεις του Βασιλια;”

“Παιδι μου μην ανησυχεις,

Ειναι ο αερας που σφυριζει μεσα απο τα ξερα φυλλα.”

“My father, my father, can’t you hear,
What the Erl king quietly promised me?”
“Be calm, stay calm, my child;
The wind rustles through dry leaves.”

“Θελεις να ερθεις μαζι μου, αγαπητο μου παιδι;

Οι κορες μου θα σε περιποιηθουν,

Οι κορες μου σερνουν τους χορους μεσα στη νυχτα

Και θα σε αποκοιμησουν με τους χορους και τα τραγουδια τους.”

“Do you want to come with me, dear boy?
My daughters shall wait on you fine;
My daughters lead the nightly dances
And will rock and dance and sing you to sleep.”

“Πατερα, πατερα μου, δεν βλεπεις εκει,

Τις κορες του Βασιλια στο σκοτεινο μερος;”

“Παιδι μου βλεπω καλα,

Οι γερικες ιτιες εχουν γκριζα φυλλα.”

“My father, my father, can’t you see there,
The Erl king’s daughters in the gloomy place?”
“My son, my son, I see it well:
The old willows they shimmer so grey.”

“Σ΄αγαπω, με θελγει η ομορφια σου,

Κι αν ερθεις οικειοθελως, θα σε αναγκασω.”

“Πατερα, πατερα μου, με αρπαζει τωρα!

Ο Βασιλιας με λαβωσε!”

“I love you, your beautiful form entices me;
And if you’re not willing, I shall use force.”
“My father, my father, he’s grabbing me now!
The Erl king has done me harm!”

Ο πατερας τρεμει, καλπαζει γοργα,

Κρατωντας το παιδι που βογγαει στην αγκαλια του.

Με δυσκολια φτανει στο κτημα του,

Στην αγκαλια του το παιδι ειχε πεθανει.

The father shudders; he rides swiftly,
He holds the moaning child in his arms.
He can hardly manage to reach his farm;
In his arms, the child was dead.

Ω γλυκύ μου έαρ, γλυκύτατόν μου Τέκνον, πού έδυ σου το κάλλος;

Ο Θανατος επηρε τον  Υιο και η Παναγια θρηνει τον μεγαλο θρηνο.  Το τελος επηλθε, ο Υιος ταξιδεψε στο Βασιλειο του Σκοτους.

“Oh my sweet spring, my sweetest child, where is your beauty gone?” cries the Holy Mother over the dead body of Jesus.

Death has now captured the Son, and the Mother is weeping.

Εδω με την βοηθεια του Γιωργου Σεφερη επερχεται το γυρισμα, η ανατροπη, η κατανικηση του Θανατου, που ειναι η κατανικηση του Φοβου του Θανατου. Παραθετω πρωτα το ποιημα.

And here comes the turn, the overthrow, the defeat over Death, which is the defeat of the Fear of Death, with the help of George Seferis, and his poem “Epiphany”.

Επιφανια, Γιωργος Σεφερης, 1937

(Epifania, George Seferis, 1937)

Τ’ ανθισμένο πέλαγο και τα βουνά στη χάση του φεγ-
γαριού
η μεγάλη πέτρα κοντά στις αραποσυκιές και τ’ ασφοδίλια
το σταμνί που δεν ήθελε να στερέψει στο τέλος της μέρας
και το κλειστό κρεβάτι κοντά στα κυπαρίσσια και τα μαλ-
λιά σου
χρυσά. τ’ άστρα του Κύκνου κι εκείνο τ’ άστρο ο Αλδεβαράν

Κράτησα τη ζωή μου κράτησα τη ζωή μου ταξιδεύοντας
ανάμεσα σε κίτρινα δέντρα κατά το πλάγιασμα της βροχής
σε σιωπηλές πλαγιές φορτωμένες με τα φύλλα της οξιάς
καμιά φωτιά στη κορυφή τους. βραδιάζει.

Κράτησα τη ζωή μου. στ’ αριστερό σου χέρι μια γραμμή
μια χαρακιά στο γόνατό σου, τάχα να υπάρχουν
στην άμμο του περασμένου καλοκαιριού τάχα
να μένουν εκεί που φύσεξε ο βοριάς καθώς ακούω
γύρω στη παγωμένη λίμνη την ξένη φωνή.

Τα πρόσωπα που βλέπω δε ρωτούν μήτε η γυναίκα
περπατώντας σκυφτή βυζαίνοντας το παιδί της
Ανεβαίνω τα βουνά. μελανιασμένες λαγκαδιές. ο χιονι-
σμένος κάμπος, ως πέρα ο χιονισμένος κάμπος, τίποτε δε ρωτούν
μήτε ο καιρός κλειστός σε βουβά ερμοκλήσια μήτε
τα χέρια που απλώνουνται για να γυρέψουν, κι οι
δρόμοι.
Κράτησα τη ζωή μου ψιθυριστά μέσα στην απέραντη
σιωπή
δεν ξέρω πια να μιλήσω μήτε να συλλογιστώ. ψίθυροι
σαν την ανάσα του κυπαρισσιού τη νύχτα εκείνη
σαν την ανθρώπινη φωνή της νυχτερινής θάλασσας στα
χαλίκια
σαν την ανάμνηση της φωνή σου λέγοντας “ευτυχία”.
Κλείνω τα μάτια γυρεύοντας το μυστικό συναπάντημα των
νερών
κάτω απ’ τον πάγο το χαμογέλιο της θάλασσας τα κλει-
στά πηγάδια
ψηλαφώντας με τις δικές μου φλέβες τις φλέβες εκείνες
που μου ξεφεύγουν
εκεί που τελειώνουν τα νερολούλουδα κι αυτός ο άνθρωπος
που βηματίζει τυφλός πάνω στο χιόνι της σιωπής
Κράτησα τη ζωή μου, μαζί του, γυρεύοντας το νερό που
σ’ αγγίζει
στάλες βαριές πάνω στα πράσινα φύλλα, στο πρόσωπό σου
μέσα στον άδειο κήπο, στάλες στην ακίνητη δεξαμενή
βρίσκοντας ένα κύκνο νεκρό μέσα στα κάτασπρα φτε-
ρά του,
δέντρα ζωντανά και τα μάτια σου προσηλωμένα.

Ο δρόμος αυτός δεν τελειώνει δεν έχει αλλαγή, όσο
γυρεύεις
να θυμηθείς τα παιδικά σου χρόνια, εκείνους που έφυγαν
εκείνους
που χάθηκαν μέσα στον ύπνο τους σε πελαγίσιους τάφους,
όσο ζητάς τα σώματα που αγάπησες να σκύψουν
κάτω από τα σκληρά κλωνάρια των πλατάνων εκεί
που στάθηκε μια αχτίδα του ήλιου γυμνωμένη
και σκίρτησε ένας σκύλος και φτεροκόπησε η καρδιά σου,
ο δρόμος δεν έχει αλλαγή, κράτησα τη ζωή μου

Το χιόνι
και το νερό παγωμένο στα πατήματα των αλόγων.

The flowering sea and the mountains in the moon’s waning
the great stone close to the Barbary figs and the asphodels
the jar that refused to go dry at the end of the day
and the closed bed by the cypress trees and your hair
golden; the stars of the Swan and that other star, Aldebaran.

I’ve kept a rein on my life, kept a rein on my life, travelling
among yellow trees in driving rain
on silent slopes loaded with beech leaves,
no fire on their peaks; it’s getting dark.
I’ve kept a rein on my life; on your left hand a line
a scar at your knee, perhaps they exist
on the sand of the past summer perhaps
they remain there where the north wind blew as I hear
an alien voice around the frozen lake.
The faces I see do not ask questions nor does the woman
bent as she walks giving her child the breast.
I climb the mountains; dark ravines; the snow-covered
plain, into the distance stretches the snow-covered plain, they ask nothing
neither time shut up in dumb chapels nor
hands outstretched to beg, nor the roads.
I’ve kept a rein on my life whispering in a boundless silence
I no longer know how to speak nor how to think; whispers
like the breathing of the cypress tree that night
like the human voice of the night sea on pebbles
like the memory of your voice saying ‘happiness’.

I close my eyes looking for the secret meeting-place of the waters
under the ice the sea’s smile, the closed wells
groping with my veins for those veins that escape me
there where the water-lilies end and that man
who walks blindly across the snows of silence.
I’ve kept a rein on my life, with him, looking for the water that touches you
heavy drops on green leaves, on your face
in the empty garden, drops in the motionless reservoir
striking a swan dead in its white wings
living trees and your eyes riveted.

This road has no end, has no relief, however hard you try
to recall your childhood years, those who left, those
lost in sleep, in the graves of the sea,
however much you ask bodies you’ve loved to stoop
under the harsh branches of the plane trees there
where a ray of the sun, naked, stood still
and a dog leapt and your heart shuddered,
the road has no relief; I’ve kept a rein on my life.

The snow and the water frozen in the hoofmarks of the horses.

(interpretation by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard)

Η προτελευταια στροφη τα λεει ολα και δινει και την απαντηση:

“ο δρομος δεν εχει αλλαγη” δηλαδη το πεπρωμενον φυγειν αδυνατον, για αυτο μην ζητας αλλους δρομους, δεν υπαρχουν, κοιτα το δρομο που εχεις και να τον διαβεις, με αρωγο την μνημη.

Η διαδρομη του ποιητη “κρατωντας τη ζωη του” και αναμετρηση του με το παγωμενο νερο και το χιονι τον εφερε μπροστα στην κατανικηση του Φοβου του Θανατου.

The question of the title is not rhetorical. The kiss is one of the vehicles to supercede one’s one material existence and attempt the ultimate, which is the submersion into another body, thus abolishing one’s own existence.

The two lovers embrace and they momentarily forget their fatal destiny. Cold as the marble they inhabit. They embrace, but they stay apart.

The man wears a crown of vines, and the woman flowers in her hair. They are oblivious to the fact that they are on the edge.  They are content and harmonious.

A kiss may last for fractions of a second, but then also for centuries.

The couple embrace almost in depseration. Their bodies touch and tangle. There is no time to waste. Passion overflows the carnal vessels.

You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss,
A sigh is just a sigh…
The fundamental things apply,
As time goes by.

And when two lovers woo,
They still say I love you
On that you can rely…
No matter what the future brings,
As time goes by.

And time goes by and before you know it, you feel the cold wind on your back and the dark shadow enveloping you, and you embrace the beloved one, and you seek in her mouth the taste of youth and the aroma of ever lasting passion.

“Lets go  and have a nice meal, this is no weather for being outdoors”, said Manolis, when the snow started accumulating on the ground and the visibility was reduced to less than 50 meters. You have seen the pictures in the “white” post, now its time to get down to the eating and drinking business.

Restaurant Guth was around the corner, at the outskirts of Bregenz by lake Constance in the Austrian – German borders. In the map below, you can see Bregenz in the lowest right side of the lake.

Chef Thomas Scheucher is one of the most creative Austrian chefs and has created a modern environment to serve his creations.

The building is new, and the outside is austere in style. The inside is warm and with a beautiful garden view.

The chef’s menu was our choice, but Manolis asked for a swap. Instead of the soup, he asked for the tripe. Such a request would not be honoured in France, where you would be asked to order it as extra. Not in friendly, hospitable Austria, where the request was accepted with a smile.

The amuse bouche was a slice of foie with brioche and quince and pear marmalade, accompanied by scallop’s and musel’s hot beverage. Exquisite and multilayered in taste and flavours, this was one of the best amuse I have ever tasted! The philosppher of Atelier will offer his own views while he comments on the post, so I will not try to interpet him, which would in any case be sacrilegious!

Marinated tuna with horseradish mousse, accompanied by a pike croquette served on cubes of beetroot. The tuna was soft and sweet, the horseradish perfectly accompanied the oily flesh, while the croquette was like solid foam (a contradiction of terms and senses).

Sauteed tripe with herbs of the nearby forest. Never had this dish before, and it was worth the wait of so many years! A complete game with the senses this one, thin threads of tripe enveloped in the aromas of the forest, melt in the mouth and bless it with eternal memories of gastronomic pleasures.

Zander fillet with octopus, on a bed of fresh green beans. The dish of extreme lightness, attempted to supplement the memory of the mighty tripe with a presence of indelible subtlety and kindness to the palate.

Free-range beef fillet with mushrooms, celery and semolina crack dumplings (knoedel). The ultimate in meaty texture and taste, medium to rare, the knife was practically not needed to cut through this velvety flesh!

Hot chocolate desert, with fried bananas and bitter sweet foam. The perfect conclusion to a perfect meal. It took the chef almost 20 minutes to prepare the cylinders of delight, and was well worth it!

In the basement, you can find another source of pleasures, the wine cellar. We were served excellent austrian wines to accompany the dishes. More on austrian wines will come in a future post, they are the big discovery of the year for me!

Conclusion: When you get a chance, visit Guth, you will thank me for that!

P.S. For the culturally oriented, there is fantastic Opera Festival during the summer in Bregenz. Just imagine the immense combination of a beautiful opera performance accompanied by a meal in Restaurant Guth…..

P.S.2 Thank you Manoli for opening guth’s door for me!

P.S.3 Thank you Nature, for creating the unique Christmas images on the last day of November in the year of 2009.

P.S4 Thank you Romania, for having your National Day on the 1st December, which gave me the opportunity to visit Manolis and Guth and…

P.S5 At the time of the visit, the restaurant was recommended by the Michelin Red Guide as “one star”.