Burger Week 2024--Yellow Belly and The Brewhouse

 

It's time for the Independent's 2024 Burger Week. I got to preview and write-up two, at Yellow Belly Tap and The Brewhouse Santa Barbara. Read the whole thing at the Indy's site, go support local businesses. Eat well!

Third Window's Boffo Bierbara

I don't know how I have been so remiss never to post about one of my favorite annual food-drink events in  Santa Barbara, in particular because it honors Saint Barbs herself. The St. Barbara origin stories, as with most of the old time saints--you know, the ones before the Romans even knew they'd need an M to count years--is murky, but basically she was a babe so her dad locked her up in a tower to keep her safe. (And keep her valuable to sell when a rich suitor came a-courtin'. It wasn't the good old days.) Pagan dad was later shocked to learn Barbara found the Catholic God in the meantime. Indeed, she convinced workmen to put a third window in a bathhouse on the family property, in tribute to how light comes in to one's soul through the trinity. Unhappy dad asks her to recant. She refuses. Turns her over to be tortured into recanting. She refuses. (Note: bad parenting.) Sentenced to death, her dad Dioscorus offers to wield the beheading sword himself, killing Barbara, only to be instantly smote by a lightning strike. So henceforth, St. Barbara is the patron of protection from things that go boom, especially thunderstorms and gunpowder.

Kris Parker, owner of Third Window Brewing, jokes, "Since all the mountain ranges were taken when we were looking for a name for a brewery that had an affinity for monastic ales, we turned to St. Barbara as a way to honor the town we are in." A graphic designer loved the idea--no surprise, as they have a nifty logo for all their merch--and Third Window was born. Every year for St. Barbara's feast day, December 4th, Third Window releases Bierbara, a strong ale that varies from year to year, and holds an actual multi-course feast. This year was number X. (Might as well stay with that Roman counting, no?)

There's Kris Parker, left, discussing one of the special pours before one of the courses. To his right is chef Logan Jones of Tamar, who has had an off-and-on pop-up at Third Window in the past (and currently at the old Tyger Tyger location Fridays), and given his foods all about Middle Eastern flavors, it seemed a particularly good fit for a feast day for someone rumored to have lived in that general region. It certainly worked this night, and he joins the line of esteemed chefs to prepare the Bierbara Feast these past ten years, including John Cox when he was at Bear & Star and Justin West when he owned The Mill's Wildwood.

Please note that non-optimal lighting makes these photos less the sell they should be. Every dish, brought out family style and placed so every four people had a platter to share, was as gorgeous it was delicious. Take that salad above, vivid with its Castelfranco and Treviso red-ivory streaks and then enough variations of shades of white to make you want to bring in an Eskimo who has all those supposed words for snow to help make distinctions--mixed chicories, Belgian endive, Asian pear, sheep's milk cheese, daikon radish. Toss with some toasted hazelnuts, sugar snap peas, and preserved lemon vinaigrette and you had a wonder of a winter salad. Especially when paired, like-to-like, with a lambic beer, a Ranch Koelschip re-fermented on Regier Farms peaches for an extra-sour-sweet snap of fruit. 

The second course offered the delight of ranch oak-smoked lamb kofta meatballs, crisp on the outside, tender on the inside, full of flavor, sat in some of the yummiest cucumber and mint tzatziki I've ever had, somewhere between that Greek dip and a raita, punched up with black garlic chili oil. As a delivery vehicle there was Michelline Parker's soul-satisfying sourdough bread, grilled and drizzled with just enough olive oil. All of that good taste was amplified by the vivid Winter Saison '23 poured alongside, an imperial aged in Cognac puncheons, mellow and bright and artfully acetous, with the exact additions of ginger and orange peel without overpowering the ale's balance. The beer did that fine cleanse the palate trick that helped keep the food course seeming light.

The third course proves yet again brown foods might be made for the belly but not for Instagram. That's the fall-off-the-bone tender braised Fess Parker (what else?) beef short rib amidst a stew of homey loveliness--braised wheat berry porridge, pomegranate, toasted pistachio, roasted turnip, butternut squash, smoked dates. Atop the savory crunch of crispy shallot. Winter savory eating at its finest, so good you could have it without the beef and be completely pleased, and I say that usually not a huge fan of the whole porridge/oatmeal/congee texture of foods. (I tell myself I'm saving them for my toothless 90s.) But this dish I ate with relish. And drank with the '23 Bierbara, this year an abbey-style quad aged for a year in Willett Bourbon barrels, then rested on roasted pistachio and pomegranate. Super smooth for its no doubt high alcohol content, it was vivid with vanilla, piquant with the pistachio and pomegranate that the food also delivered. As ever, something special. (It's probably on tap/in bottles at the brewery soon if you want some.)

Note the reason for the season beer was poured alongside course three. For dessert we each got a generous glass full of dark chocolate budino, a very adult pudding that took a bit to get to through the whipped cream, tangerine segments and candied rind, and the peanut brittle that Chef Jones should be selling on its own. The beer match once again went for the samesies trick--the method of this feast's madness was always amplification, intensity, underlining--a bourbon-barrel aged walkabout, an imperial chocolate stout made with Third Window's almost neighbors 24 Blackbirds cocoa nibs, vanilla, and backyard orange peel. It could have been dessert in a glass itself, but we also had a dessert in another glass. 

And at least two of us were very glad we waddled our fested selves the 2.3 miles home on foot, reminiscing of deliciousness all the way.

All Hail Another Year of Jubelale

Given Anchor Brewing is gone, and along with it its annual Christmas Ale, it's good some seasonal winter warmers are continuing their traditions. Take Bend, Oregon's Deschutes Brewery, which has released its 36th edition of its Jubelale. This dark ale is long lingering and warming, offering aptly seasonal notes of chestnut and allspice and smoke. Think of Jubelale as one of those beers that teaches you how to drink it, moves your taste buds around to best accept its enveloping warmth. With surprising oomph for a mere 6.7% ABV, it's a strong ale that won't punch you upside your head if you drink two. Bring on the snow, or at least the ugly sweaters.

Not that the art for Jubelale is ugly in the slightest. In face, there's a contest every year for new art. The festive scene for 2023 showcases a design by former Deschutes Brewery employee, Ben Woodcock. Deschutes press release informs: "Ben worked at the Deschutes Brewery Portland Public House for nearly a decade where he served up tasty food and beverages as he made his way through graphic design school at Portland State University. During his time with Deschutes, he also created elaborate one-of-kind chalk art that frequently graced the walls of the restaurant. Today, Ben is a multidisciplinary artist, designer and educator in Portland who still creates unique chalk art for Deschutes at the Portland Public House." So that's a cool way to support the employee team and make things a bit more personal and personable. Which is what a good beer does, no?

Give Me Liberty, or, Goddam....

 

Let's save the crap business part (almost always the only kind of business part) for later, and first pour one out for the end of a brewing icon. After 127 years, Anchor Brewing will soon be no more. It's tough to remember now, given in a city like San Diego you can't throw a rock without hitting a brewpub, but in 1980, there were 8 craft breweries in the entire country. I mean, you could count them on your fireworks-damaged fingers. So what Fritz Maytag managed to do by reviving the often stumbling Anchor brand in the late 1960s and 1970s was revolutionary. 

Leading that revolution was Liberty Ale, arguable the first India Pale Ale made in America. Sure, it might "just" be a pale, certainly by today's standards when its 33 IBUs seems almost quaint. (For comparison, Pliny the Elder from Russian River, admittedly a double IPA, packs 100 IBUs.)  But that was a heck of a lot of hops in 1975 when the beer was released in honor of the 200th anniversary of Paul Revere's ride, and they even drop-hopped, too, so when that bottle cap popped, you got tickled in the nose with hops. Unbelievable. Five years later Sierra Nevada debuted its Pale Ale and every last West Coast IPA needs to bow down to both these beers.

This will be no surprise to regular George Eats readers, but I was a picky drinker from the get-go, and my go got going sooner than many as the drinking age way back when was a mere 18 and I was tall and mothers had just barely begun to get MADD. Eschewing Bud and the like (Lite?), I looked to Europe and became a fan of Heineken (Frank Booth would have beat my ass), Bass, Belhaven. Stuff with flavor. (Yes, Heineken was a flavor choice. Simpler times.)

Eventually landing in California in 1994 meant I arrived just at the beginning of the microbrew boom. Stone would whip up Arrogant Bastard two years later, asserting "fizzy yellow beer is for wussies." But first I was able to get Anchor and Sierra Nevada regularly, and that seemed like a dream. In 1995 I even got to take the Anchor Brewing tour in their stylish art moderne location Potrero Hill in San Francisco. At tour's end, they let you drink as much any of their beers as you'd like straight from the production line for a half hour. That Liberty Ale sang to me, easily the best beer I'd tasted to that time in my life, so fresh, crisp, and bitter, to the point you could never quite quench the thirst it drove. I still wish I could repeat that sudsy epiphany.

Soon that will be no more. The typical mamby-pamby press release--sent out at nearly 2 am, as if it were a last call message--cited all the insincere reasons you'd expect: competition, Covid, San Francisco is crazy, man! You'd think Ron DeSantis had a hand in writing it. True, sales were dropping, but that's been an industry-wide issue. The real disaster is Anchor got bought out by Sapporo Holdings Ltd. for $85 million in 2017, part of that wave of crazy investments in smaller brewers by large conglomerates. Practically none of these have turned out well, because giant businesses exist to, if I may mix ugly money metaphors, always be closing. If profits don't increase significantly every cycle, someone's head is going to roll. And no doubt it didn't help that Anchor's workers unionized and got their first contract in 2020. Nothing pisses off the suits like the workers actually getting their fair share. 

 Well, they've shown the workers what's what now.

Be sure to drink up the last of Anchor, as they sell all their inventory off, as you can. Tastes great, more history. And toast to whatever it takes not to sell out.

Delights in the Lion’s Den of Buellton

 It’s a tribute to David Walker’s passion for his project that, as he talks you through the creation of Firestone Walker’s core beer Double-Barrel Ale (DBA), his story makes the beer taste better as you drink it. That’s only fitting, of course, as his rapturous ode to DBA kicked off a Barrelworks Lion’s Den Dinner on September 24 in Buellton. And as you might know, Walker is the Lion at FW, while his partner Adam Firestone is the Bear.

Being able to attend this dinner was one of the perks of membership for the Brewmaster’s Collective, now in its second year. Think beer club for the nerdiest lovers of dark, deep, and/or sour ales, which, given this dinner was sold out at 66 pleased people, is a quite large group. The people for whom Walker joked, “You got curious and left my DBA behind.”

Care to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

Tech Team Powers Validation Ale in Santa Barbara

 

Attention to detail can be everything. Brian Deignan, co-owner of the Funk Zone’s new Validation Ale with his wife, Briana, lamented the sad state of bathrooms at too many breweries. “We built twice as many as the city asked,” Brian proudly states. “It’s like a museum in there.” 

Those palatial bathrooms are just one data point to show that this couple took their tech background and rethought the ways of beer and restaurants. The two met while at GoTo Meeting; Brian most recently worked at AppFolio, while Briana has been working at Zoom since before it was a verb, as she put it. That put them in a perfect position financially to go for their dream, but it also gave them a unique perspective. Briana says, “Coming into an industry with no experience, we got to question the status quo.”

Care to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

Beds to Bet on in Nevada City

If, like me, you think that one of the best reasons to stay in a hotel is to live with bold and beautiful wallpaper that you don’t have the courage to risk at home, then you really need to stay at the National Exchange Hotel. The wonderful dark stuff above is in a hallway, where it's easier to risk a wilder print as no one stares at it for too long (I mean, what are you, some kind of hotel hallway creeper?), but it certainly sets the stage for all sorts of restored Victorian loveliness. 

But not Victorian fustiness--note the prints on that wall, too, which give more of a science-y feel, a bit like you'd fallen into a study of someone who aspired to being part of a Society, as in "of Explorers," not society, as in grand. Much better than randomly decorating with garage sale purchased creepy dolls like you'd find in too many B'n'Bs to mention. Of course, one key with any old hotel restoration is to hint just enough that things could be haunted, but never by creepy dolls. You want it to be lovers who could never leave, they had such a great honeymoon, or something like that....

Such ghosts would be very at home in a bedroom like this one we recently got to stay in, part of a king suite that was plenty sweet enough to be suitable for royalty (those sheets are soft as butah, and sure, I see all the problems with that simile, but you get it). Also note while the wallpaper is still fun, it's not quite as dramatic as the kind in the hallway--after all, you spend some time in this room, especially as once you're on it, you never want to leave the bed. 

You will leave the bed, for many reasons, since you're in Nevada City, a cute as a button California Gold Rush hamlet (that's when buttons were still cute) quite happy to show off its history and natural beauty. We'll get to all that. But first you get to your sitting room, which invites plopping down with a good book--high ceilinged, well-lit, no wallpaper to distract you. 

Note much of the furniture is antique, clearly hunted for and curated, so each room has its own charm. Also note--no TV. You better be able to make your own fun, or better yet, your own peace. The quiet of the place, despite being resurrected from the bones of a hotel that originally opened in 1856, is surprising. Neither crotchety creaks or your neighbors behind a century-thinned wall will disturb you. If you're desperate for the 21st century, there is wifi. There's a tablet next to the bed with Netflix fired up if you need it.

There's also a view of Broad Street, Nevada City's main drag (although this photo is taken from the second floor balcony that any guest has access to, off an inviting lounge--featuring the world's longest sectional couch--where each morning there's coffee and scones). Yep, it's a town with saloons, some vacant spaces because it's 2021 post?-pandemic America, art galleries, and some recognition of the Native Americans who came before those hungry for gold in the 1850s and those hungry for vacations in the 2000s. 

There's even the Nevada Theatre, which might not look like much from the outside, but is California's oldest existing theater building. It opened a few months after Lincoln was assassinated, evidently not too worried about the scare John Wilkes Booth put into play-goers. Mark Twain performed there. (Yeah even then writers had to do tours to make some bank.) They're hoping to start performances again, too, COVID-willing.

Alas, from what I can tell, one of the region's most notorious performers might never have performed at the Nevada Theatre as she was "retired" for the two years she lived in nearby Grass Valley. That's Lola Montez, who I first learned of from the Max Ophuls' film Lola Montès, which tell you more about obscure-film-loving-me than about Montes or Nevada City. She was a character, though, an infamous international lover--her affair with Ludwig I of Bavaria led to his abdication--and she danced the tarantella, complete with rubber spiders flying out of the folds of her frantically twirling dress. To honor her, the National Exchange Hotel has named its dining room after her.

And now is as good a time as any to mention another smart, successful, adventurous woman, Sherry Villanueva, managing partner and owner of Acme Hospitality, that people Santa Barbara will know for some of the town's best dining spots, from The Lark to Loquita to La Paloma. Acme is behind the restoration of the National (and of the also historic Holbrooke down the road a patch in Grass Valley), and that does mean the food program is going to be a focus, no mere afterthought.

And serious cocktails will be the first thought. Of course, anyone serious about cocktails knows to be playful, too, so you could order something like a Morning Glory, that comes with a special teabag infusion.

 

Or something a bit more direct, the Limelight, that I made the mistake of not taking notes about, and the bar menu isn't on the website. It was delicious, though, and I recall chartreuse was involved, so what could be wrong?

It's a gorgeous room, with nifty light fixtures and plenty of mirrors, so lots of reflected glow that makes you and you fellow diners even more beautiful than you are (and I have no doubts you are). Blue banquettes line the walls, both for comfort and sound absorption, always an issue in a building with so much exposed brick. And it's a perfect place to feast on frites, as we both did--Chryss had the moules frites and I had the steak frites. There was a lot more cream in that wine sauce than in some versions of the mussels, so it was pretty decadent, and also just pretty, with sea beans scattered atop adding crunch and even more salt. The steak was perfectly cooked to medium rare, and speaking of decadent, I would have bathed in the Bearnaise. Many of my fries certainly did.

I do not mean to slight the precursors to our mains, either, a savory smoked salmon mousse with potatoes gaufrettes--a fancy name for chips that these delights earned--and a farmers market fresh salad of butter leaf lettuce, cherries, pickled onion, pepitas, and a healthy toss of Humboldt fog cheese (Northern California, represent!) Or our server, who paced the meal perfectly, offered wonderful advice, and really seemed glad to be there, as was true for all the staff in the hotel. (Side note: all through our two night stay we repeatedly witnessed staff training other staff--a lot of learning was going on, no doubt as the hotel has faced the same employment issues everyone in the service industry has faced of late.)

Oh, and the next night we returned to the bar to have more from that cocktail list, and while those drinks we consumed are lost to our gullets and history, they were delightful, too. Plus, here's what that bar looks like--spiffy time travel.

Of course, Nevada City itself is a trip back in time. At least two times, I should say, for while the predominant building style is Gold Rush meets Victorian chic, the town was re-infused with architectural goodness during the WPA, and that means there's a cool art moderne City Hall and this County Courthouse that sits atop one of the town's many hills, so is yet more imposing.

Meanwhile, all the old school brick places tend to be re-purposed for more modern uses. Take the old Assay Office, which now houses Harmony Books, a wonderful independent book store with a fine selection plus cool stuff like lots of tarot cards and jigsaw puzzles. It even had a book Chryss and I have poems in displayed in its window, California Fire & Water: A Climate Crisis Anthology, edited by local poet Molly Fisk. So we felt particularly welcome.

And indeed, there are other places to eat and drink in town, although we weren't there long enough to sample that many. We did dig the old time atmosphere at the Golden Era, with one of the prettiest tin ceilings I've ever seen, plus cool cocktails like the Repeat Offender, which made bourbon and mezcal sing together, with the help of some super syrup, old fashioned bitters, and a flamed orange disc for yet more smokiness, and the Bandito Escondido, an amped up margarita variation with mezcal, lemon and lime juice, Ancho Reyes liqueur, and hell-fire bitters--spicy fun.

And there's a perfect place to eat and drink, Three Forks Bakery & Brewing, which left me with the pressing question--why aren't there a million bakery/beer brewers, or at the least one within walking distance of my house? Turns out we wound up there three times in one day, kicking off with scrumptious baked goods and lattes to start our morning, having a post-hike beer midday, and then returning for dinner, too, splitting a pizza and a salad that was all of late summer freshness. And yes, the beer is great, too. We can't say enough about the cosy, casual Three Forks.

As for that hike (just one of many in the region), you can start right from the hotel, traipse through town (past the winery we never visited, the Odd Fellows Hall now an art gallery we didn't peruse), then into a neighborhood of houses (some with "we believe in science" posters in their yards, one with a giant InfoWars banner on its side--neighborhood gatherings must be fun!), and eventually you get to the Deer Creek Tribute Trail. The titular creek runs through a gouge of rock, and you even get to cross it on a very current suspension bridge that can still give one the willies as it shimmers many feet above the creek bed. Still, gorgeous (no pun intended). And about as easy a hike as one can take and get to see lots of actual nature. (It eventually loops you back into downtown.)

I hope I made it clear how wonderful the renovation of the hotel was, but if not, here's one more photo to convince you. Isn't that an eye-catching stairwell? The sense of detail and design is truly spectacular.

So let's not forget when and how it all began for this property that's been on the National Register of Historic Places since the Nixon presidency, so even its historic nature is historic. Not sure why pointing out this was the site of the first whipping post in the state is a plus, but maybe when the plaque went up someone really loved the Allman Brothers? I promise if you stay at the National Exchange Hotel, you will leave your blues at home.

Having a Home Beer Fest

True confession--it's not that uncommon for a bunch of beers to arrive in a box at this house. But that box above was something special, a celebratory statewide smorgasbord, as it were. For you're looking at the 2020 California Craft Beer Summit Experience. There was supposed to be an in-person big deal event in Long Beach in September, but COVID said no to that. Instead, we got to delight--and learn--at home, at our leisure. And a fun time was had by two (I can't vouch for anyone else but us, of course).

But first a word from our sponsor. The California Craft Brewers Association is the oldest state trade association representing craft breweries--go CA! Turns out, according to the brewers who posted interviews as part of the Summit Experience, the CCBA has become even more important during coronavirus shutdowns, which have often changed rules of brewpub engagement almost hourly, it seems. Having a group who could get the legal word and get it straight was crucial for many small (and not so small) breweries. These places had to pivot, and fast; take Sacramento's Urban Roots, who supposedly went from making 400-500 cans a month to that many per week, as everyone wanted beer to go when the pubs shut down. 

The beer that went down our gullet here in Santa Barbara was as follows: 

Russian River Brewing Co. | Pliny For President (Double Dry-Hopped Double IPA) 
Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. | Wild Little Thing (Fruited Gose-style) 
Fieldwork Brewing Co. | Canopy (Westcoast Pale Ale) 
Urban Roots Brewing | Floofster (German-Style Hefeweizen)
Modern Times Beer | Ice (Pilsner) 
Societe Brewing | The Harlot (Belgian Blonde) 
Kern River Brewing | California Lounge Chair (IPA) 
Topa Topa Brewing | Dos Topas (Mexican Style Lager)

That's a pleasing range, geographically and stylistically, featuring old-timers and up-and-comers, small producers and those who can only claim they are "craft" in mentality and approach thanks to their production numbers. (Digression: did you know Sierra Nevada makes 1,250,000 US beer barrels annually? So if you built a swimming pool to swim in one year of their beer, it would have to be over 10,000 feet long, over 1,900 feet wide, and 380 feet deep!) The beer wasn't all you got for your $60 per participant. Some cool, branded glasses arrived with a handy cheat sheet for the four pairs of beers they set up as courses (that also suggested food pairings that ranged from mightily specific--watermelon and feta salad--to more abstract--beach days and sandy feet), and you also got a handy beer tasting notes journal, so you could record your impressions of the beers and even get some practice in using the flavor wheel that breaks beer down into its components. (Here's my thumb and my slightly out-of-focus thoughts of Sierra Nevada's Wild Little Thing.)

The most informative part were Zoom-held conversations between beer-makers that you got to watch as you sipped along. Having the videos of the conversations on YouTube meant you didn't have to make it to a specific, scheduled time, and we took ours to go through the full set (each chat was about 45 minutes long). It certainly provided a great peek into the world of beer-making and the world of beer-selling right now, when everything seems so tenuous. There was much talk of COVID, and luckily everyone seemed to be managing, and even planning blasts for the day drinking within touching distance of others can happen again. Perhaps we need to get ready for something to rival the original Repeal Day. After all, Natalie Cilurzo from Russian River put it this way when describing what makes a beer memorable, "It's not just the beer, it's the time, it's the place, it's the company." Sometimes it's the fish tacos, though....

 

Our homemade ones (thanks Kevin, for the fresh fish!), with homemade tortillas and beans, as well--the pandemic has us at the top of our cooking game, don't know about you. So getting to enjoy all that with a Societe beer is truly wonderful, and very San Diego without leaving home. Or this pairing, a saag with feta cheese, rice, and fresh-from-the-garden-tomatoes....

I'm going to pass on reviewing the beers as they all were delicious in their different ways, aimed for different tasting experiences, outdoor temp, times of day, and that's the exciting thing about craft beer right now. Sure, hop bombs might lead sales, but everyone's having fun experimenting, too, even if that means nailing classic styles. As Jack Dyer, co-founder of Topa Topa put it, describing why he's so proud of his brewery's Dos Topas Mexican style lager, "It's easy to cover up challenges with heavily-hopped beer, but with this beer, if the process is off at all, you're going to taste it."

Pretty much the one area of agreement, though was--wtf, hard seltzer? One speaker admitted, "If that existed when I was in my early twenties, I would have died an alcoholic." While Dr. Eric Giddens, founder of Kern River Brewing, put it this way, "I'm a beer-flavored beer guy." And these eight breweries delivered--to your door--the beer-flavored beer goodness.

Ain't Europe Grand (Tour) with Chryss and George (Day 11)

Germany in a Door Handle a Day

That's what greets you at the door of St. Sebaldus Church, who is the patron saint of Nuremberg, despite, as Wikipedia kindly puts it, his "insecure historicity." (Note to self--there's a title for your memoirs if you ever write them.) Hello, death. You are everywhere, and can be expressed in the simplest of hints of form. How particularly fitting to be in Nuremberg, though. For now we probably think of this city as most associated with Word War II--site of Nazi rallies held at still monumental structures like the Colosseum-esque Congress Hall that you can cruise around inside via bus

or the Zeppelinfeld, where you still expect to see swastika-emblazoned banners to hang, flanking old you-know-who in mid-racist rant. (No, not 45*.)

Of course the town is the site of the Nuremberg Trials, too, trying to correct the massive wrongs through reason (after war won the day). The Palace of Justice is the calm spot all that went down.

But then Nuremberg was also home to one of art's great geniuses, Albrecht Durer. There's a plaque on what was once his house--oh, about WW II, it pretty much meant all of Nuremberg was destroyed. That so much of it is re-built, that's another testament, too. Humans, damn complex.

Speaking of complex, the original organ in St. Sebaldus was for a long time one of the oldest playable organs in the world, well, until it got destroyed in WWII. Some dude named Johann Pachelbel was organist there in the day, and wrote one of classical music's greatest hits on that organ. So there's that, too. But, how 'bout some more death just to keep us modest?

Or let's instead celebrate how we can be artful, visionary, builders, and re-builders, despite all we know. Here's some more of St. Sebaldus, spectacular church to a saint we're not sure even existed, and probably a minor cathedral as Europe's clutch of holy edifices goes.

Noshing through Nuremberg

Since the Tir is till stuck in Regensburg thanks to the high water (better that then hell), we motorcoach to Nuremberg, which isn't far. It's cool to get to see some of the non-riverside country-side, too. You may spy on a village....

or a lovely lake-let.

From that countryside comes the delights for sale at the Nuremberg farmers market in its Haputmarkt. Made us want to cook just to play with those gorgeous white asparagus.

And we also bought some souvenirs for the family back home, some lebkuchen, a flourless gingerbread cookie Nuremberg is noted for that's not what you might expect given that description. It's more a spice cookie (cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, aniseed, cardamom, allspice, coriander, oh, yeah, and ginger), and of course comes in decorative tins. Souvenir city, you are Lebkuchen Schmidt.

We even got to taste them when we got home and they are uniquely yummy. Since we were in Nuremberg from 11-4 and away from our talented kitchen crew, Viking took us to lunch to try Nuremberg's famous sausages. It seems every German town argues its sausages and beer are the best, and since we didn't try many in other towns, we'll have to go with what we were offered at Bratwurst Roslein, founded in 1431. Somehow their motto is not "Centuries of Sausages!" Note, what we think of us bratwurst isn't what Franconians (the area Nuremberg is in) think of us bratwurst, so they are shorter and thinner, and meant to please on their porky own. As on this plate with potatoes and sauerkraut (cabbage is sort of air in Germany, you know).

Yep, they are grilled, by the many dozens, especially when 150 folks from Viking show up hungry.

And it wasn't just a sausage plate, for the lunch kicked off with a very interesting soup with a noodle that was weirdly, pleasingly doughy--almost something you'd expect in an Asian dish.

Oh, they had a veggie option for Chryss, something soupy-stewy she liked enough. Germans don't seem to have got word of the vegan sausage revolution the U.S. has embraced.

And then a dessert, too, a version of a Black Forest cake with more ice cream, and what could be wrong with that?

Here's the exterior, not that exciting a shot, but there's Program Director Stein (in the red Viking shirt facing the camera) probably explaining something he's said eight times for the ninth to one of our fellow passengers.

And to ruin chronology--but the trip is so many weeks ago, what does that even mean at this point--after we did our bus and walking tour of town with the local guide provided by Viking, we opted to rest and reconnoiter and drink at Bratwursthäusle, with its lovely outside tables taking in town hall across the street. The Trucher beer there was fine, but more striking was our waiter, oddly aggressive for a server ("you are only ordering the .3 l sir?")--picture Rolf from Sound of Music going bad, as you just know he did. Of course, still full we refused to eat, so that might have set his tip-seeking heart off, who knows?

Gorgeous Old Stuff Re-Built

So then there's all the scenic scenes Nuremberg offers, from its Beautiful Fountain (Schoner Brunen) in Haupmarkt--that's its actual name--to a much more modern sculpture called The Ship of Fools which I chose to photo in detail, because today's post has a theme and we love Halloween and all that.

And while Nuremberg is off the Main-Danube where we should be docked, it's got its own river flowing through its middle, the Pegnitz, which means reasons for many a photo, showing how the town's got old and new a-scritching and a-scratching upon each other (probably given all the old was re-built as the new got built).

Spot the locals and their wedding photos. It's a theme of the trip!

Perhaps the couple will bid troth in Frauenkirche, which I'm pretty sure translates as "Church with Pointy Roof."

And speaking of keeping things old, forget about using your phone as a watch here, you just need a handy sundial.

Lots of wonderful wooden houses, none more scenic than this one.

And the historic (yes, restored) walls of the town still have impressive gates like Frauentor.

I'm contractually obligated to take a photo of every St. George depiction I see.

And while this one doesn't spell museum mvsevm as one of my poems does, it was still pretty enough to be worth a photo, I think.

Kaiserburg, the Town's Crown

The bus tour portion of our trip kindly leaves us at the highest point of town, a complex dating back to 1040 that is actually three castles, cleverly atop the town to be both commanding and easier to defend. Some of it looks likes this

and then from the top you get views like this over Nuremberg

Of course there are towers that tower over you too, as you can't have too much a height advantage.

And some narrow passages, just in case your enemy gets inside somehow--it's easier to pick them off 4 a-breast than 20 a-breast.

At least I don't think back in the day they were considering tourists might one day think, "Great framing device, thanks!"

Dinner and Two Shows

Meanwhile back at the still stuck thanks to the water levels Tir in Regensburg, we are docked alongside a carnival/fair called the Dult. The coolest thing about it is that people get dressed up, and by that I mean

That's just a few of the folks in their dirndls or lederhosen, but I felt funny taking too many voyeuristic spy photos, if that makes sense. But it was good to see traditional clothes were still being embraced by the young, and not just in some ironic way--most of the people dressed that way were looking mighty good. So congrats, Regensburg.

As for dinner, I'm sure I am surprising you by once again ordering off the regional special menu. Someone had fun with the madeline in the kitchen, as you can see from my opening salad--ochsenmaulsalat & knodel carpaccio. How German--we will offer you carpaccio of dumplings!

Turns out you can make the seemingly heavy, a beef salad with dumplings, be light on its elegant feet if you work hard enough, slice thin enough. And zip it up with a brandy vinaigrette.

Chryss went for a more salady-salad, featuring spinach, artichoke, radicchio, and a forest mushroom vinaigrette.

Then for my main the mouthful, both as a name and a dish, kassler sauerkraut salzkartoffeln, or cured pork loin with sauerkraut and parsley potatoes. Hearty-licious.

While Chryss enjoyed the sauteed Chinese egg noodles with yet more mushrooms (although shiitake aren't from the German forest, we think), even if the spicy sesame-soy sauce made it a tad too salty.

Plums awaited with dessert, zwetschgenkuchen mit sahne, aka whipped cream.

After dessert the ship offered some onboard special entertainment--show two after watching the dress up parade headed to the Dult. I don't have pictures, but that's ok as this was really about sound. Two women singers and one man, accompanied by their own pianist, regaled us with what was billed as "an unforgettable evening highlighting the greatest melodies of Mozart and Lehar." These Danube-infused tunes were charming, in particular when one audience volunteer got to play the man fought over by the two sopranos.

Go back and read Day 10 of Ain't Europe Grand (Tour) with Chryss and George 

Go ahead and read Day 12 of Ain't Europe Grand (Tour) with Chryss and George