A while back, I posted a link on my Facebook page to an interesting article from Atlas Obscura about the German tradition of the Feuerzangenbowle - the poisonously festive flaming punch popular during the holidays.
As is the case with so many things, I have my own story about the Feuerzangenbowle to tell, so pull up a chair, sip your beverage of choice, and listen to the tale ...
Many years ago when I lived in Germany I worked for an organization which had professional working arrangements with a number of German government offices around the country. Each year when the holiday season arrived and the annual round of Christmas parties began, those of us in the main office were dispatched to be the official representatives of our director at the German parties.
On the year in question, my first in Germany, I was selected to accompany my boss to one of the holiday parties, and so on the appointed day I dressed in my best suit and took the train to the city of Düsseldorf. Our local representative met us at the station and escorted us to the office in the heart of the city, where the party was already in full swing. I dutifully made my rounds, shook all the right hands, accepted the comments about how good my spoken German was (not as good as it would be in later years, but still conversationally adequate), nibbled at the magnificent food spread, and sipped the offered punch. It took a while to notice in the crowd, but my boss had disappeared.
After an hour or two, a decision seemed to have been made that I was okay to be admitted to the real party, which was going on in another part of the building. My boss, being a known quantity to the local German staff, had already been there for some time.
Well ...
The centerpiece of this party was a gaily flaming concoction I'd never seen before - a Feuerzangenbowle - a pot of hot mulled wine over which a cone of pressed sugar (a Zuckerhut, or "sugar hat") soaked with very high-proof rum rests on a small grid known as a Zange (literally, "tongs"). The lights are turned down, and the sugar cone is lit and burns with a brilliant blue flame as bits of melted sugar and unburned rum drip into the hot wine below. It's hypnotically beautiful, very delicious ... and, as I soon learned, very, very potent.
I don't remember much about the party after that. I know there was dancing involved, pictures of children were proudly shown, and there may or may not have been some more-or-less innocent activity under the mistletoe. When the party (or, at least, our part of it) wound down, the director of the German office sent one of his minions back to the station with us to make sure we got on the right train. That was a wise decision.
Miraculously enough, I woke up as the train was pulling in to our stop and managed to wake up my boss, and somehow the two of us managed to get off the train and into cabs that eventually got us home. To this day I don't remember very much of what happened at that party, except that it was really fun ... and that I was, by gawd, going to get me one of those Feuerzangenbowle contraptions ...
... which we still have, and which is - on rare and suitably festive occasions - brought out, fired up, and admired by all who remain conscious.
Have a good day. If someone asks you to try a Feuerzangenbowle, go ahead ... just make sure someone is available to take you home and remind you that you do, indeed, live there.
More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
