Crunchy Bottoms

Striking the caloric balance. Barely.

Tag Archives: salad

Brotzeit (Vivocity)

Brotzeit

As I’m punching out this post, I’m reminded and wrecked with guilt over the remaining 18 days of my Europe trip that happened about half a year ago that I have yet to write about. That will probably be done next year around this time if all goes well. And that’s me being optimistic.

Anyway, Frankfurt’s pork knuckles can wait (ETA 6 months from now). Brotzeit’s can’t.

It was with a fair bit of hesitation that I led the family into Brotzeit (pronounced broht-zye-eet), but I reasoned that since our last meal of wursts or brots or German-anything has been a good while ago, they wouldn’t turn green at the sight of potatoes anymore. And so they didn’t. But our Europe-seasoned habit of ordering three dishes for four to share remained even though I was ready to conquer the Schweinshaxe (Pork knuckle) all on my own when it eventually descended onto our table.

Pork Knuckle ($36)

This was one burnished crown of blisteringly, crackly, hunk-o-barbaric-looking, MEAT.

Just Meat in all its glory. Look at that. No, really, look at that. What higher power orchestrated such a perfect union of unctuous, smokey meat and golden, crisp skin? Read more of this post

Europe – Day 1 (Hello Bern!)

 
Bern Station

So what’s worse than 12 hours of ass-cramps, neck aches and a swollen bladder while trapped in a flying tin can? 12 hours of ass-cramps, neck aches and a swollen bladder while trapped in a flying tin can with a gassy seat-mate. How does anyone generate that much gas anyway? I will not accept answers regarding low air pressure and gas expansion. It can’t be that simple.     

Mommy and I arrived at Zurich airport past 8am and managed to limp past immigrations on our stiff legs to buy train tickets to Bern. Touchdown in Zurich and I’m already all set up and raring to start chomping my way across Europe, even if my queasy, jet-lagged stomach wasn’t quite ready just yet.   

Poppy Seed Pretzel

Poppy seeds are banned in Singapore because of their morphine content, says wikipedia, which answers a lot of my frustrations with trying to find any here. False positive tests for opiates or something or the other. Creepy. Although that would probably help to explain why the Europeans are happier than Singaporeans. They tasted like sesame seeds to me.      Read more of this post