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The Germknoedel Incident
Author/s: K. Allerslev, S. Parkel, E. Perez, M. Weber, C. K. Wilde
Edition: Single object
Year:2009
The Germknoedel Incident, A unique book by Organik, Brooklyn, New York
art by Kurt Allerslev, Marshall Weber, Christopher Wilde, 2009
binding and cover art by Sara Parkel, title calligrapghy by Eliana Perez
trace samplings, and wax and graphite rubbings from monuments and plaques in:
Berlin, Dresden and Leipzig, Germany, Telluride, Colorado, and, Manhattan, New York, USA
So,
the Germknoedel incident.
I was six or so, in uncomfortable lederhosen and too big hiking boots. A heavy oak table, covered with white cotton doily-laden cloth, surrounded by my family. Surrounding my eating and drinking family were walls of bright,rough white plaster- covered from wainscoting to high exposed beam ceiling with the sawed off horns and hoofs and skulls of thousands of small herbavores locally prized for their tender flesh and, apparently, their keratin. The claustrophobia was in direct opposition to the crystal clear day reflected in the cold glacial lake outside the window, mountains soaring away into the too bright air. On that lake , so clear, I felt vertigo looking the 20 feet over the edge of the row boat I was in. I say was in, because I "fell" into the cold glory of water filled with lake trout swimming in little smooth groups below, highlighting the hidden currents below. Later shivering in the hot sun I watched the trout in wooden coffin like box, waiting to be eaten while I was waiting to eat. The family moved with some ceremony to the oaken table, and tucked right into a corner. While some had the trout ( seared in it's own skin, it's blackened eye like a coin for the ferryman), others had the little mountains goats cooked tenderly with a rich blood sauce. My sister and I got the Germknoedel.
The Germknoedel is a rich boiled white dumpling smothered in a cream sauce, filled to bursting with sugar, butter, and poppy seeds. Enough poppy seeds to send even tempered people into reverie. So my sister and I ate, as our elders drank wine, and mineral water, and later schnapps! And slowly I got the most curious sensation. All this had happened before, down the details, but somehow differently. I became sleepy. The excitement and excercise had caught up with me. My family now blending with the background, the horns and feet and skull suddenly grew each little animal around itself again- the room became a wall of bodies- small, wild, rustleing bodies, the susserating of the little wide eyed faces became too much the volume seemed to crescendo and I felt the world pull away...and snapped back into me. I was pulled up and away, and smashed back into myself. I was the little mountain goat, I was my mothers son, I knew this place and time, and was to forever wander between the two.
We all walked back to the house, to work off the meal with hiking songs; maybe my mom could be convinced to yodel her echos off the mountains faces. Which delighted all who heard it, and sometimes someone would yodel back. It makes me smile to think of this. And sigh.
Click here for a how to Germknoedel video!
In the Anderson Library collection of the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis
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