Community – Cultureum

Integration, Emotionality, and my Name Day

Written by Henriette J. Runte

Last week, while dropping off my daughter at school in the morning, I overheard two fathers speaking. The conversation was in German, but the men spoke with strong accents. One of the dads, we’ll call him Dad #1, appeared very upset and was telling the other father, Dad #2 about how his lawyer had asked him not to be so emotional in court. Dad #1 explained how his lawyer thought they had a solid case and that they were likely to win, but the attorney also advised his client to please tone down his emotions, to speak less loudly and less fast, to gesticulate less, and to appear altogether calmer and more unemotional. Dad #1 seemed very frustrated by this request from his lawyer. He said he was greatly angered by the injustice that had been committed and that he felt it would be appropriate to express his anger in court, instead of trying to suppress it and be fake. In fact, he continued, he thought his emotions would show how genuine and honest he was. Dad #2 tried to convince him that he should follow his lawyer’s advice. The two men walked away before I could hear more without actually following them and eavesdropping.

I was deeply troubled by what I overheard, because I could relate to this need to be emotional and expressive. I have no idea what the conversation was actually about, or what the case at hand pertains to. Nor do I personally know either one of the gentlemen in question. But I can understand the frustration that comes with being considered overly emotional. I have often been told here, in Germany, not to take it personally – “Nehmen Sie es nicht persönlich!” – when the situation, comment, or conflict, was most certainly personal, at least from my point of view. I have often been advised to go into certain delicate situations with less emotion, even though my instincts would have been the opposite. I have slowly learned not to show hurt or disappointment. I have learned not to express disagreement or doubt directly and bluntly. In one particular situation I was told, just like Dad #1, that the only thing that stood in my way, the only thing that could be held against me was my emotionality.

Through my line of work and by having lived and worked around the world, I have developed quite a strong sensitivity for communicating effectively despite cultural differences. I feel I can empathize with many different cultures and understand where people are coming from most of the time. I also speak several languages fluently, which allows me to actually communicate with several groups of people in their native tongue. Yet, when it comes to feeling understood, to feeling at ease and being able to be myself on an emotional level, I have a little more trouble.

In Germany, in public life, I am always on my toes, always second guessing myself, never allowing myself to fully relax. I always question my instincts first, count to ten, and then react in order to make sure my reaction is culturally appropriate. And I don’t think this is necessarily wrong. I chose to live in this country. I admire the way of life, the convictions, the ethics and beliefs held by the people here. And again, I’d like to point out that, although I have traveled extensively throughout the county, I have only lived in northern Germany, in Hamburg, so my views are based mostly on experiences in the Hansestadt Hamburg. I speak German fluently. I have a job here. We have lots of dear friends and neighbors. I even have a German family through my husband’s relatives. Our children are fully integrated. Yet, emotionally, I do have to keep myself in check.
Otherwise, I tend to speak too loudly, I tend to crack inappropriate jokes and make too many funny comments, I tend to greet people too openly and laugh too much and too loudly, and the list goes on and on.

But where does my emotional identity come from?
I have been molded and influenced by several cultures, so what made me pick and choose to feel comfortable with the set of behaviors and feelings that I call my own?

Recently, while shopping for a new T-shirt, I came across one that started a whole line of discussions with my family and friends. The T-shirt said something to the effect of: “I am not yelling. I’m just Hungarian. We speak this way!”
Certainly, Hungarians tend to be loud and very emotionally expressive, if compared to Germans or the Japanese, for example. But to everyone who has been in a restaurant in Barcelona at lunchtime, on the other hand, Hungarians must seem a very quiet people. In fact, it always depends on the register, doesn’t it?

Allow me to generalize for just a second: Hungarians are loud when speaking with friends and family, and they tend to gesticulate a lot and to speak with feeling and spice. But Hungarians are rather shy and reserved while using public transportation or while eating out at a restaurant or during cultural activities. To continue with some of the other cultures I know, the French, and I am including French children in the bunch, will not speak loudly in restaurants. But have you ever been to a puppet show in the Jardins de Luxembourg? Not even American children scream louder at puppet shows than the French kids do. The event is reminiscent of Shakespearean times when the audience threw onions at the actors to express dissatisfaction, or hooted and hollered if the performance was good. Similarly, French children yell at the characters on stage, try to get involved in the action, express all of their thoughts and emotions during the show, and they are encouraged to do so by both parents and the organizers. In other situations, however, French children have always struck me as “bien élevés,” as very well raised, polite, considerate little beings.

In comparison, Americans, adults and children, tend to add volume to any conversation or event. There’s a confidence and assertiveness that comes across in most situations, even during church ceremonies. Actually, every time I’m in an American church, it strikes me how light, merry, communal, and loud it is. I guess this is because I was socialized in the Carpathian Basin, where going to church is more of a somber and contemplative affair.

But what about Germans? I have experienced Germans to be almost paranoid about disturbing someone. I find this to be true when it comes to how loudly they speak, or how closely they stand to one another, or the noise they make both in their homes and gardens, and in public spaces. But there are situations that call for volume in German society as well, for example, in Bavaria during Oktoberfest (where everyone dresses in traditional garb and drinks lots of beer), or in Köln during Fasching (celebrated in February by dressing in funny costumes and taking to the streets to sing and dance and be merry), or in Hamburg during Schlagerfest (the festival of Schlager music, which is a popular form of pop music in Germany), or during Hafengeburtstag (the yearly anniversary celebrations in May, commemorating the port of Hamburg, Germany’s largest).

When living in a culture other than the one you grew up with, it is difficult to know when to contain your emotions and when to let them loose. It is even difficult to know what occasions and celebrations call for just what amount of joy or cheer. Growing up in the Carpathian Basin, one of the biggest celebrations at our house was my mother’s name day, névnap in Hungarian. Unlike her birthday, which was celebrated only with members of our family, her name day brought neighbors, colleagues, acquaintances and friends of all kind to our house. My mother used to take the day off from work to be able to welcome all her guests on her special day.

My mother’s favorite flowers are freesias and carnations. On her name day, the house would be filled with these flowers in every color imaginable. According to tradition, people simply came by to pay their respects, brought some flowers and stayed for a quick coffee or refreshment and some pastries or a small bite.
In Hungary and Romania, name days are generally known and often announced on morning TV and radio programs. It is a common courtesy to acknowledge the name days of the people you know.

This week, on March 16th , is my name day, but it will be an ordinary day for me. My mother will send me flowers, and I will thank her for them. She will express a degree of sadness that no one else remembered, and I will try to console her. My name day doesn’t mean that much to me. Even stranger, my birthday is quite an annoyance as well.
As a child, my actual birthday was only celebrated very serenely with my parents. Set for a later date, there was, of course, a larger party, that, organized in a fashion suitable for an only child, included many guests, at least two or three cakes, games, presents, music, the works.

In Germany, birthdays are a big deal as well, but somehow differently. The German way to commemorate a birthday resembles, for me, more the name day celebrations in the Carpathian Basin than the birthdays I have known. In Germany, everybody calls and congratulates you on the day of your birth. People keep meticulous records of all their family members’, their friends’, their friends’ children’s, their colleagues’, and their neighbors’ birthdays. It is baffling. The birthday child is then expected to take muffins to school, or cake to work, or to invite friends and colleagues out for a drink.

I have not yet been able to bring myself to adopt the German way of relating to birthdays. I’m a bit of a birthday Grinch, I’m afraid. I do follow the traditions as far as my children are concerned, but when it comes to my birthday, a bombardment of phone calls does not appeal to me, so everyone who cares about me knows that I prefer a brief text or video message instead. My colleagues know not to expect any cake at the office from me on my birthday and that I truly do not wish to have my birthday acknowledged.

But allow me to get back to this day last week, when I overheard the two gentlemen at my daughter’s school, talking about some legal trouble and how being emotional would not help their case. That same day, when I arrived at the school for pick up, several parents were already standing outside, some talking, others busy on their phone, or just staring into space. I went to stand with one of the fathers I know. We’ll call him Dad #3. We engaged in some social chit chat and then just stood there, awkwardly waiting. Another father, Dad #4 arrived, came up to us, smacked Dad #3 on the back, and said, “Na, du Sack!” To explain, both Dad #3 and Dad #4 are German. They know each other, but are not close friends. They are both educated and respected members of our community. And yet, Dad #4 greeted Dad #3 by saying, “Hey, you testicles!” And that was perfectly acceptable.

Straight off, they found the right tone, laughed, and chatted away effortlessly. And that is the big mystery of integration, that no one can teach you. The social morés and celebrations, the actual emotionality behind daily life, the tone of voice, the nuance of interactions is the hardest thing to understand and adapt. Dad #1 and Dad #2 in this story found common ground by both being “foreign,” but they felt great frustration in their interactions with the “natives.” Dad #3 and Dad #4 engaged in what would seem, at first sight, as socially inacceptable, controversial, vulgar, even. Yet, Dad #3 and Dad #4 were seen as perfectly appropriate, funny, and cool. You bet Dad #3 and Dad #4 won’t be celebrating any strange name days, but I’m pretty certain they will bring cake to work on their birthday and will remember to place a birthday call for all their friends and acquaintances!

I guess my point today is that true integration is very difficult. It is not enough to have linguistic and educational integration programs. For a society to truly become one and grow together, there has to be a platform of sharing. Feelings and personalities have to be respected. Perhaps Dad #1 should not have been advised to try and hide his emotions. Perhaps emotionality should not always be regarded as negative. Perhaps there could be room created for this man to be able to say, “Look, I come from a different culture, and I apologize if this might seem inappropriate in your culture, but I am angry. I feel frustrated. I accept the rules, but feel certain aspects make no sense, or are unnecessary, or unfair.” Perhaps Dad #4 should dare slap the two “foreign” dads on the back as well, and call them “testicles.” Perhaps that would break down more walls than any specific, organized integration program. And perhaps I should actually let people know that, although I try to suppress the feeling,
I am always sad on my name day, because it makes me feel detached from my
parents’ culture and confused about where the heck I actually belong.
Be well everyone, and never stop trying to connect!

Written by
Henriette J. Runte

One pig – one year – so many mouths fed

Written by Sebastian Junge; Translation by H. Runte

Traditionally, we process a whole pig in my organic restaurant at the beginning of the year. For us, this is pretty much the most exciting part of our work when it comes to processing animals. The variety of products that can be prepared from the whole animal is pretty unbelievable, as is how much yield we have from one animal and how many people eat from it. …

Pork has a catastrophic image due to the slaughter industry, discounters, various scandals and contemptuous forms of husbandry and production. Of course, this is not the path we follow. We select a farm from the area and insist on exceptional quality.

For us, it is worth looking at the pig and the task entrusted to him on the farm. As an omnivore, the pig is responsible for using up leftovers on the farm – unused vegetables, unbackable cereals, catch crops, maybe even whey from the farm’s own cheese dairy. In return, the pig produces offspring, fertilizer for the fields, and of course, the entirety of his/her body, which we then process into food. The farms from which we obtain pigs have entrusted their animals with these tasks, in contrast to factory farming, which is about producing meat in the most effective way, as quickly and as cheaply as possible.

In general, we only use old breeds of pigs, which, in contrast to industrial animals, offer significantly more fat and are in much better health. This year we processed a field pig for the first time. These animals are on the pasture all year round and can pursue their natural behavior, such as wallowing in the mud. I visited the farm last year with my daughter to get an idea of the animal husbandry and to get to know the people who are responsible for the farm. We exchanged ideas extensively, got to know each other and learned a lot about farrow-to-finish pig farming.

We agreed to take over an animal in January.

When the time comes and we pick up the slaughtered animal, the kitchen is on high alert for a week. It is an enormous challenge to process a whole animal in so many different ways while still keeping the restaurant open to our guests. We are talking about almost 150 kg slaughter weight and well over 15 different ways of preparing and preserving the product. For example, we process blood and offal into blood sausage, black pudding, and coarse liver sausage. The head is boiled and made into jelly and baked pralines. We salt a large quantity of ham, to use over the next few months and especially during the asparagus season. Then ham is also cold or hot smoked, air dried and cured. We make sausages for lunch, cook rinds for sauerkraut and prepare many pieces for main courses. Then rillette, lard and other sausages are boiled down. All in all, it is a lot of work and also a technical challenge. It requires a lot of organization and impeccable teamwork.

Once the work is done, we are eager to taste the products ourselves and are very proud to serve them to our guests at the restaurant. It is an absolute rarity to work with such exceptional quality and to prepare dishes from it.

I have acquired the tools of the trade over the years by reading specialized literature, attending internships with butchers, visiting slaughterhouses and participating in trainings digitally. Then came the time to try out what I learned, in practice, on actual products.

We at Wolfs Junge process the animals whole, because when we consume meat and take the life of a living being for our food, it is our responsibility to make sure it is treated with respect and used fully.

“Nose-2-Tail” is not a marketing strategy for us, but an integral part of the concept behind our restaurant. There is so much waste in the industrial slaughterhouse and in the wholesale trade, and the animals are treated anonymously and with such lack of dignity, that I would find it repugnant to use such products. Were we to order from these providers, we would know nothing about the origin of this meat, who raised the animal, where the animal was raised and what it was fed, where it was slaughtered, and and and … For us and our restaurant, it is essential to know the animals we process and to have a relationship with the people who raise and slaughter these animals.

By now, we have completely processed the pork in our kitchen and are in the process of serving it, little by little, much to the delight of our guests. We serve it in a variety of ways: at lunchtime we have the bratwurst described above, in the evening we roast coarse black pudding with olives and raisins as an intermediate course, and for the main course we grill the neck and combine it with beetroot from the surrounding area.

We are absolutely committed to the high-quality of the food we serve. We wish to educate our guests and to explain why we think pigs are important on farms, how diversely they can be processed, and what cultural background these processes have.

What actively moves me personally are the moral and ethical foundations and problems that come with the consumption of meat. But to write about this here would go beyond the scope of this blog entry. At the moment, what I can say is that I take on this responsibility for myself and for my restaurant and that I look forward to the time when we can cut and taste our self-smoked ham in a few weeks, right on time for asparagus season.

Written by Sebastian Junge; Translation by H. Runte

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Ein ganzes Ackerschwein für das nächste Jahr

Geschrieben von Sebastian Junge

Traditionell, wenn man davon im 5. Betriebsjahr sprechen kann, verarbeiten wir am Anfang des Jahres ein ganzes Schwein in meinem Bio Restaurant. Das ist für uns handwerklich so ziemlich am spannendsten, wenn es um die Verarbeitung von Tieren geht. Die Vielfalt an Produkten, die sich aus dem ganzen Tier zubereiten lässt ist schier unglaublich, ebenso, wie viel Ertrag wir aus einem Tier haben und wie viele Menschen bei uns davon essen. Schwein hat ein katastrophales Image, zu verdanken der Schlachtindustrie, Discountern, diversen Skandalen und verachtende Haltungs- und Produktionsformen. Mit der ganzen Schiene haben wir naturgemäß wenig am Hut, sodass wir natürlich auch in diesem Bereich auf Ausnahmequalität ausgewählter Höfe zurückgreifen.

Hierbei lohnt es sich das Schwein und seine ihm anvertraute Aufgabe auf dem Hof zu betrachten. Das Schwein ist nämlich als Allesfresser auf dem Hof für die Resteverwertung verantwortlich. Soll heißen es wird ausgeputztes Gemüse, backunfähiges Getreide, Zwischenfrüchte, vielleicht sogar Molke aus der hofeigenen Käserei verfüttert. Im Gegenzug produziert das Schwein Nachkommen, Dünger für die Felder und schlussendlich natürlich auch den Schlachtkörper. Die Höfe, von denen wir Schweine beziehen haben ihren Tieren diese Aufgaben anvertraut im Gegensatz zur Massentierhaltung, in der es darum geht aufs effektivste günstig und schnell Fleisch zu produzieren.

Wir benutzen generell nur alte Schweinerassen, die im Gegensatz zum industriellen Tier deutlich mehr Fett ansetzen und eine sehr viel robustere Gesundheit vorweisen. In diesem Jahr haben wir das erste Mal ein Ackerschwein verarbeitet, das bedeutet, dass die Tiere ganzjährig auf der Weide stehen und ihrem natürlichem Verhalten, wie bspw. das Suhlen im Schlamm nachgehen können. Den Hof habe ich bereits im vergangenen Jahr mit meiner Tochter besucht, um mir selbst ein Bild von der Tierhaltung zu machen und die Menschen kennen zu lernen, die für den Hof verantwortlich sind. Wir haben uns ausgiebig ausgetauscht, kennengelernt und viel über die Ackerschweinhaltung gelernt.

Für den Januar haben wir die Abnahme eines Tieres verabredet.

Wenn es dann so weit ist und wir das geschlachtete Tier abholen, steht die Küche für eine Woche Kopf. Es ist eine enorme Herausforderung ein Ganzes Tier im laufenden Betrieb so mannigfaltig zu verarbeiten. Wir reden hier über beinahe 150 kg Schlachtgewicht und weit über 15 verschiedene Zubereitungs- und Konservierungsarten des Produktes. Wir verarbeiten bspw. Blut und Innereien zu Blutwurst und grober Leberwurst. Der Kopf wird abgekocht und zu Sülze und gebackenen Pralinen, wir salzen eine ganze Menge Schinken ein für die nächsten Monate und vor allem die Spargelsaison. Dann wird Schinken kalt oder heiß geräuchert, luftgetrocknet und gereift. Wir machen Bratwürste für den Mittagstisch, kochen Schwarten für Sauerkraut und bereiten uns viele Teilstücke für Menu Hauptgänge zu. Dann wird noch Rillette, Schmalz und andere Würste eingekocht. Alles in allem eine Unmenge an Arbeit und auch handwerklicher Herausforderung. Das erfordert eine ganze Menge Organisation und zahnradmäßiges Ineinandergreifen unseres Teams. Ist der Großteil der Arbeit geschafft, erfüllt uns das Probieren und Servieren der Produkte mit großem Stolz, ist es doch eine absolute Rarität mit solch einer Ausnahmequalität zu arbeiten und Speisen daraus zu zubereiten.

Das Handwerkszeug habe ich mir über die Jahre dafür angeeignet, über Lesen von Fachliteratur, Praktika bei Fleischern, das Beiwohnen von Schlachtungen und die Fortbildung über Videos etc. Danach geht es ans Trainieren mit den Produkten in der Praxis.

Wir verarbeiten die Tiere in der Regel im Ganzen, denn wenn wir Fleisch konsumieren und einem Lebewesen das Leben nehmen, um es zu essen, ist es unsere Verantwortung, dass dieses respektvoll behandelt wird und gänzlich benutzt wird.

„Nose-2-Tail“ ist bei uns kein Marketingbegriff, sondern wird durch unser Konzept gelebt. Im Industriellen Schlachtbereich, sowie im Großhandel fällt dermaßen viel Abfall an und die Tiere werden völlig anonym und fern jeder Pietät behandelt, dass es mir zuwider ist, solche Produkte zu verkochen. Bestellen wir so etwas, wissen wir quasi gar nichts über die Herkunft dieses Fleischs – wer es wo aufgezogen hat, was es zu fressen bekommen hat, wo es geschlachtet wurde oder oder oder … Daher ist es für uns unabdingbar eine Beziehung zu den Menschen und den Tieren zu haben, die wir verarbeiten.

Zum jetzigen Zeitpunkt haben wir das Schwein komplett verarbeitet und servieren es nach und nach. Es kommt großartig bei unseren Gästen an, wir servieren es mannigfaltig, mittags gibt es die beschriebene Bratwurst, abends dann grobe Blutwurst gebraten mit Oliven und Rosinen als Zwischengang und im Hauptgang grillen wir Nacken und kombinieren es mit roter Bete aus dem Umland.

Wir brechen eine Lanze für dieses hochwertige Lebensmittel und leisten Aufklärungsarbeit, warum Schweine in unseren Augen auf Höfen wichtig sind, wie vielfältig sich diese verarbeiten lassen und welchen kulturellen Hintergrund diese Verarbeitungen haben.

Was mich persönlich viel und dynamisch beschäftigt sind die moralischen und ethischen Grundlagen und Problemfelder des Fleischkonsums. Darüber hier zu schreiben, würde aber den Rahmen sprengen. Zurzeit kann ich das für mich und mein Restaurant in der Form verantworten und freue mich auf den Zeitpunkt, wenn wir in ein paar Wochen zum ersten Spargel unseren selbstgeräucherten Schinken anschneiden und verkosten können.

Geschrieben von Sebastian Junge

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Of Geese, Ducks and Ham

Written by Sebastian Junge; Translation by H. Runte

What the month of November also brings to our kitchen is so-called waterfowl, or in other words, duck, geese, and other aquatic birds or winged game. …

Autumn has unmistakably reached Hamburg since my last entry. The last warm days are over. It rains a lot, and it gets dark very early. We live in a perpetual gray haze. Temperatures are falling and the last late summer vegetables from our producers are coming in. We have finally harvested all the vegetables from our own fields as well. It was a great year that produced an excellent harvest and provided us with wonderful new impressions and experiences. Now, it is time to begin pickling and processing all the vegetables we have harvested ourselves or have received from our producers.

What the month of November also brings to our kitchen is so-called waterfowl, or in other words, duck, geese, and other aquatic birds or winged game. Maurice Blank, a longtime companion from Lemsahl-Mellingstedt, a neighborhood in the north-east of Hamburg, has been raising small groups of ducks and geese for us for a long time.

Maurice serves a few private customers and otherwise only our restaurant, and we feel incredibly lucky to be able to enjoy the fruits of his work at the end of the years.

We process waterfowl in as many different way as we do domestic pigs. We make rillette and paté, both braised and pan-fried. We make pastrami. And best of all, we can make our very own cold-smoked ham again. This is only possible in the really cold months. The temperature has to fall below 10 degrees at night so that we can cold smoke the salted pieces of meat over a longer period of time. We can typically do this starting in November, and we truly celebrated this.

The knowledge and craft we use to create our cold-smoked ham has been
fascinating fellow chefs and guests for a while now. Smoked products have been an integral part of our menus and cuisine from the very beginning.

We use ancient preservation methods that help create a feeling of well-being and bring back great memories for many people, including me. Our hams represent the type of cuisine we stand for. They are unique and can only be enjoyed here, at Wolfs Junge, and they unmistakably bear our signature. In the spring, for example, when we will cut open our ham from our domestic pigs after 4 months of ripening and smoking, just in time for the first asparagus, I am always filled with great pride in what we do. The knowledge that this ham can only be enjoyed here, in combination with other unique products, is a superb feeling.

Tomorrow, I will try our first goose ham. After 4 weeks of preparation, it is now ready. Its taste will transport me and my taste buds full into the autumn spirit.

Written by Sebastian Junge; Translation by H. Runte

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Von Gänsen, Enten und Schinken

Geschrieben von Sebastian Junge

Mittlerweile erreicht uns der Herbst in Hamburg unmissverständlich. Die letzten warmen Tage sind passé und Regen stellt sich mit früher Dunkelheit und einem häufigen Grauschleier ein. Die Temperaturen fallen und die letzten Spätsommergemüse unserer Produzent:innen trudeln ein. Auch unsere Ackerparzelle haben wir final abgeerntet. Wir haben hier eine tolle Ernte eingefahren, neue Eindrücke und Erfahrungen gesammelt und jetzt geht es ans Einlegen und Verarbeiten der Gemüse.

Sobald es auf den November zugeht stehen die Zeichen in unserer Küche auf Wassergeflügel. Maurice Blank, ein langjähriger Wegbegleiter aus Lemsahl-Mellingstedt zieht seit jeher kleine Gruppen an Enten und Gänsen für uns auf. Ein paar Privatkunden und wir als exklusiver, also einziger Gastronomiekunde haben das Glück seiner Hände Arbeit am Ende der Jahre genießen zu dürfen.

Wassergeflügel wird von uns ähnlich vielseitig verarbeitet wie Hausschwein. Es wird Rillette und Paté hergestellt, geschmort und Kurzgebraten, Pastrami gemacht, und das beste: Wir können wieder unsere kaltgeräucherten Schinken herstellen.

Dies ist nur in den wirklich kalten Monaten möglich. Die Temperatur muss sich Nachts auf unter 10 Grad absenken, damit wir die eingesalzenen Stücken Fleisch über einen längeren Zeitraum kalt räuchern können. Dies ist erfahrungsgemäß frühestens ab November der Fall und wird dann von uns regelmäßig zelebriert.

Dieses von uns angewandte Handwerk ist eines, das am meisten Faszination auslöst, bei Köchen und Köchinnen, wie auch bei unseren Gästen. Rauchwaren sind seit Beginn an fester Bestandteil unserer Menus und Kulinarik. Es handelt sich um eine uralte Konservierungsmethode, deren Geschmacksprofil bei vielen Menschen Wohlgefühl auslöst und gute Erinnerungen auslöst, so auch bei mir.

Unsere Schinken sind exemplarisch für unsere Art der Gastronomie, sie sind Einzigartig und nur bei uns zu genießen, unverwechselbar und tragen unsere Handschrift. Wenn wir beispielsweis unseren Schinken vom Hausschwein nach 4 Monate Reife und dem Rauch pünktlich zum ersten Spargel aufschneiden, erfüllt mich das mit großem Stolz. Das Wissen, dass es diesen Schinken nur bei uns zu genießen gibt, in Kombination mit weiteren einzigartigen Produkten ist ein großartiges Gefühl.

Morgen ist es dann soweit und ich kann den ersten Gänseschinken probieren, dieser ist nämlich nach 4 Wochen schon fertig. Ich freue mich auf den Geschmack, der mich auch geschmacklich vollends im Herbst ankommen lässt.

Geschrieben von Sebastian Junge

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