Valla


Valla, Moson Megye, Hungary, Austria-Hungary
(now Wallern im Burgenland, Austria)



A Tale of Many Meals


They were visiting family in a foreign land. Would their relatives keep them well fed? As it turned out, the more important question was whether their family would ever stop feeding them.

In little village of Illmitz, hospitality means plenty of good food

2,500 residents of Austrian village of Illmitz have choice of 38 restaurants



By Lee Svitak Dean
Star Tribune Staff Writer
© Wednesday October 15, 1997
Pages T1 & T6 (X)



Three rules of etiquette govern Illmitz, a small Austrian village near the Hungarian border that my family visited his summer.

"Eat, eat and eat," advised our host, with a grin. Or, as we repeated in German, in what was to become our mantra, "Essen, essen und essen."

We understood the implications of those simple words. To leave even a crumb on the plate would insult those gracious enough to feed us so many miles from home.

Such a cross-cultural goof would not reflect well on us, or on the family we represented. As the first relatives to visit the ancestral home in 20 years, we wanted to make a good impression.

No problem with eating, we thought. We were always hungry. Were hungry, indeed.

Our family of five traveled to Austria to meet my husband's relatives. His grandmother emigrated to America at the turn of the century and eventually settled in the North End of St. Paul, where many other Illmitz emigrants had made their homes.

We already knew the American version of the lllmitz etiquette. "Eat, eat," Johanna Nekowitsch Mollner always urged those gathered at her dinner table in St. Paul. "Don't you like the food?" she would ask, if even a morsel of the plentiful fare was left.

Five thousand miles away, unbeknownst to those at Johanna's table, Marie Nekowitsch Tschida, her sister, would urge guests, "Essen, essen und essen." If any food was left on the table, she feared the worst "Hast du das Essen nicht gern?" (Guess what that means.)

So we were ready for the gustatory challenge as we headed down a quiet street in rural Austria on our way to the first of many homes where we would eat that day.

We should have known what we were getting into, given our experiences in St. Paul. But the sun was warm and our bellies were empty, and we had but one thought on our collective mind - breakfast, and the sooner the better.

Twelve hours and many meals later, we added three more rules - and a bottle of antacids - to our bank of Illmitz knowledge. Even when not translated from German, its meaning is clear: Trinken, trinken und trinken.

Small town, big appetite


Illmitz, a neatly kept village in the region of Burgenland, has its needs met by one cemetery and one church, two gas stations and a single main street. A visitor can easily walk from one end to the other, although it's more common to ride a bicycle.

But the 2,500 hungry residents of lilmitz choose among 38 restaurants for their dining pleasure, from a thatched-roof dining hall where Hungarian Gypsy music flows as freely as the liquid refreshments, to outdoor cafes and ice cream shops that carry dozens of flavors. The residents do enjoy their meals.

As they do their wine, especially that from their own cellars. Illmitz lies on the southeastern edge of Lake Neusiedl, a shallow, 22-mile-long lake. The region is flat, with soil and climate well-suited to growing grapes. Indeed, Burgenland is the second-largest region for wine in Austria.

Most Illmitz families have vineyards on the outskirts of town and working wine cellars at home. Large barrels of fermenting grapes are stacked in those cellars, sometimes to the ceiling.

In the corner of each cellar, a table and wine glasses are conveniently positioned for the sampling of the vintages. Clearly, entertaining begins - and sometimes ends - in those wine cellars.

The winemakers take their hobby seriously, some putting up as many as 10,000 bottles of their own to share with friends, relatives and visitors, and to enter in international wine contests (which they win, as the plaques on their cellar walls proudly reflect).

But we didn't know all this on the warm summer morning. We were hungry, and maybe a little thirsty, because of the jaunt we'd taken to get to the first house.

A plentiful spread


At the home of Franz Nekowitsch, the breakfast spread was served in the traditional Austrian fashion to which we had grown accustomed during our travels: Paper-thin slices of all sorts of sausages, called wurst (pronounced with a "v" instead of a "w"), slices of many cheeses, all to be stacked on freshly baked Kaiser rolls, with pats of butter and a variety of jams.

"Too early for schnapps," Franz said with a grin, as we glanced at the clock - 9 a.m. - only to see him open a bottle of wine from his own vineyards. Hmmm, wine at breakfast was a first for us. But we obliged, raising our glasses in the traditional toast, "Prost!"

This wasn't so tough, we thought, as we made certain the serving dishes were cleaned of food. Franz smiled broadly, and so did his wife, Marie. The honored guests had honored the hosts. Everyone was happy - and full - as we waited to hear our itinerary for the day.

Franz, a former burgermeister (mayor) of the town, planned to take us on a walking tour of Illmitz, with stops at the homes of various relatives. Good enough. We needed the walk to wake up from breakfast.

A few block away, Josef and Susanna Unger were waiting for us. Breakfast was waiting, too. Our kids looked worried. "Essen, essen und essen," I hissed, as the plates made the rounds. Someone snuck a roll into my bulky purse.

Then, with great ceremony, we were shown the wine cellar. Once again we gathered around the table as wine bottles were uncorked with a flourish, and Almdudler (an apple drink) and Fanta (a soda pop) poured for the children.

We giggled all the way to the next house, "Do you suppose they're going to have breakfast for us, too?" one child asked, numbed by fullness.

"Naw," I offered in encouragement, "They must know we've been eating.

I was wrong. Another full breakfast greeted us. As we picked at our food for lack of appetite, we could tell that our hosts, Johann and Anna Nekowitsch, were unhappy with how little we were eating.

So we reached for more wurst, more rolls, more cheese - and my purse made the rounds under the table. Once again, the wine glasses were filled. Then the homemade kirschwasser, a cherry liqueur, made an appearance.

We forced grins as the sodden cherries tumbled with the burgundy liquid into our glasses. Trying to hide our bloated state, we offered thanks and compliments - and hoped for a long walk.

Meals and miles to go


If all we had were three breakfasts, the story would end here, with only a small but polite burp. But although our appetite disappeared, the meals had just begun.

After a visit to the near by national park, we returned to sip and sup at an elaborate chicken dinner. Wine flowed, and so did schnapps, now that it was afternoon. Finally, and with great relief we left the table to waddle, er, sightsee through neighboring towns, where we were blessedly free of refreshment.

When the supper hour approached, we were asked what turned out to be a fateful question, "Do you want to eat now or later? We suggested later, assuming that meant a delay of an hour or two, during which time we hoped to recover our appetites.

But something got lost in the translation. Four hours later we ate dinner, which might have been an acceptable interlude except that our hosts felt we needed something to pass the time. Given our limited German and their limited English, they chose to entertain us in a way that required few words.

So we visited family wine cellars. Three of them, in fact, where we tried to sample as few wines as politely possible. Which wasn't easy. As soon as one glass was drained, another vintage was poured.

And, of course, where there was wine, there was also food - always very good, but unfortunately, plentiful. At one home a relative had baked two cakes for us. As we nibbled on only one, familiar words sounded, "Don't you like the cakes?"

Once again we reached for more. A few pieces of cake joined the rolls in my purse.

The day concluded much as it had begun 12 hours earlier, with all of us gathered around a table, a glass of wine in our hands, this time with platters of Wiener schnitzel on the table, and a family silly with too much food and wine and the merriment of the day.

"Prost!" we cheered as we clinked glasses, toasting our family of winemakers and the day's good food, which had finally come to an end.

We had eaten well and honored the family name. Never mind that the family purse was stuffed.

So were we.

Austrian treats


In Austria, pastries often are served with coffee or wine. The following gugelhupf also known as kugelhupf is simple but flavorful. Serve it with the following coffee with wnipped cream.



Austrian Gugelhupf


Similar to a pound cake. Austrians would bake this in a gugelhupf pan, also known as a turban mold, but any fluted tube pan (such as a Bundt) works well, From Parade magazine from the 1960s.



Cream butter thoroughly. Add sugar slowly and continue to cream. Beat until light and fluffy. Beat in egg yolks one at a time.

Mix and sift flour, salt and baking powder. Combine milk and almond extract. Add flour mixture and milk alternatively to butter mixture, stirring in gently but thoroughly. Beat egg whites stiff but not dry; fold into batter thoroughly. Spoon into well-greased 12-cup tube pan (such as a Bundt pan). Bake at 350 degrees for about 1 hour and 10 minutes, or until cake tests done. Cool in pan 10 minutes. Loosen cake gently around rim and tube. Invert on cake rack. Finish cooling. Dust with powdered sugar. Can be sliced very thin, if desired or in larger pieces.



Whipped Cream Coffee
(Kaffee mit Schlagobers)




Whip the cream, allowing a good tablespoon for each cup. Sweeten it with a little sugar. Pour the hot black coffee into cups or glasses. Plop a dollop of whipped cream into the coffee, and serve immediately.


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Last Modified:
November 26, 2003