Wurzburg Trip 2005

This year after reading the dispatches from that eloquent film producer / director / turf cutter from Chicago D. Lynch, we re-arranged our travelplans to incorporate the annual Boat Club Film Fest Dinner. We had heard that this was an occasion of much debauchery, and as you know I try never to miss these type of occasions. As usual Owen played down the rumours about the 1st running of the event, but I noticed the way little memories of it seemed to slip out in conversations with Owen (usually these memories got better the later in the night and the more drink that had been consumed). When I expressed an interest in attending the 2nd dinner he tried to play it down and said it was just an "auld" dinner in the boat club down by the river. It might even be cold there, and he was sure I had no interest in boating. The more he tried to create obstacles to discourage my presence there the more determined I became to make sure we made the venue this year. (Owen, just for your benefit; I am using free verse here and interchanging I and we to a predetermined formula. Feel free to change any I to we and vice a versa if you are happier with the flow of the piece) (For everyone else; Owen has "issues" around my use of "we" in conversation. My excuse for his percieved over use by me of the word is that I like to be all-inclusive!)

Anyway enough distraction, back to the real business at hand, Food and Drink, which as any self-respecting Irish man knows are the basics for human existence. There is a rumour that there were some men over from Ireland who did not conform to these required standards. There is an ongoing investigation into this. We can confirm at this stage that a group did leave Farranfore airport aboard a Ryan air flight to Frankfurt Hahn (but like Farranfore it has proved difficult to locate the whereabouts of Hahn). There then are sporadic reports of Irish males speaking with a "different" accent in the greater Wurzburg area over the weekend in question. Some of these reports are conflicting, sometimes indicating the "suspects" were travelling as a group, other times that they had split up. They may also have attempted to integrate themselves into the local community to avoid detection. Any further information on their activities and movements over the said weekend should be sent to the director. It can not at this stage be confirmed if they have returned to Ireland or are besotted by their new surroundings. Owen gave us all a pep-talk on the day of the dinner about our behaviour on the night, although the way he kept looking in my direction I think it was mostly meant for me. Quiet what he meant about not "disgracing" him in front of the prestigious upper council of the boat club I am not sure. But he was using that "inverse-psychology" trick I'm sure. I got so muddled up with all the psychology both inverse and converse that I may not have taken the right meaning from his talk and got it all wrong on the pitch! Anyway we were given a tour of the club in daylight (perhaps so we could get our bearings in case we had to make a hasty exit later!). I was mildly surprised when Brendan and myself had to explain to Owen the difference between an 8 and a 4 boat. My suspicions were further aroused when Owen had difficulty explaining the water drain holes in the boats. Did Owen really row at all, was it just camouflage for some other activity? Imagine my surprise when we got into the clubhouse and found it gloriously warm. Hold on a minute, what is going on here? I bit my tongue (not recommended, very painful, and taking out the stitches is worse) and held my fire.

The team were showing a lot of pre-match nerves, so in a departure from tradition the Coach (Owen, he is also referred to throughout this piece at various points as Director) suggested a pre gig drink (to calm the nerves). Seeing as I had the biggest nerves I had the biggest drink. We were relaxing in a nice bar / cafe across the river from Hotel Russ, (waiting for the American director, but that's a story for another day) expecting the coach to order, and pay for, the next round of drinks when suddenly there was a slight commotion behind the counter and coach advised us all to get out fast. It later transpired that someone in our company (who shall remain nameless) had in a previous existence actually been employed (I restrain from using the word work!) by this establishment. When said person was recognised by the management, let's just say that the management got agitated. Anyway the American director eventually turned up on American time (30 minutes behind European time) and we all made a hasty get away.

Onwards to the epic potato peeling. The odours emanating from the kitchen on my arrival bode well for the rest of the night, but I was very upset at the thought of all that precious alcohol from the wine soup bubbling off into the atmosphere for the angels to soak up. I decided the best place to be was in the kitchen to soak up those precious odours. Imagine my surprise therefore when I was press ganged into the potato peeling gang by the Chief Chef Matthias. Now cooking and me only go well together when I'm sample tasting some creation off a plate. But in the spirit of the night and with the words of "Coach" still echoing in my ears I got "stuck in". Katarina was a tough ganger and kept giving me back my peeled potatoes for further revision, I forgot to remove the eyes, I had overlooked the bad bit It was hell! There was some early damage done but I managed to stem most of the blood flow from a Sprained finger acquired on potato two. (At that stage I did not realise we had a doctor in our presence, if I knew then what I discovered later I would gladly have fainted just for medical attention! or should that read to get the attention of the medical practitioner!!). Anyway yet again you cause me to digress. Where was I? Oh yes the potatoes and peeling.

Moving swiftly along from that kitchen incarceration and to the more pleasant parts, something bubble from a bottle started the formal proceedings of the evening. Our hosts gave everyone a welcome and a toast was proposed to this the second annual dinner. (How the first one was held without me I'll never understand). The dinner was really brilliant. Franconian wine soup with cinnamon croutons was delicious. My tears were for all the alcohol that was sacrificed in its production. I was thinking of what other uses I could have made of it. But it was worth it all, delicious. Next up was Pork and Apple stew with those boiled potatoes I had toiled over before. Again a masterpiece and then it began to dawn on me about this "so called" boat club, and about Owens apparent lack of knowledge about the boats. Gee how slow am I getting, this is not a rowing club but a Monday night gourmet club. My deepest suspicions were confirmed later when I heard Owen (thinking I was distracted) asking Sabine did she do much rowing!!

"Rowing me arse" as they say in West Cork. The rowing is only a cover for some great cooking and "craic" every Monday night. Now I understood why "Coach" had given me such a pep talk that day. He was afraid I might affect his future membership of the gourmet club.

In a feeble attempt to return a little of the hospitality, we had acquired some lemon liqueur that afternoon. The reason for this was to give me an excuse to tell all about our trip (accompanied by 35 farmers) to Uruguay last September. I was treated one night in a cafe to glass after glass of this near frozen native liqueur (well it was only polite of me to keep drinking it) and when we went to pay for out meal (superb value compared to Europe) the "lemoncello" was on the house. This was typical of the people we met everywhere in Uruguay. Now I must confess I did not bring "lemoncello" all the way from Uruguay to Wurzburg, but after some sampling we did get a very good substitute made in Italy. This was the product we used on the night as an after dinner digestif. (In my native Co.Clare we always had a digestif after the meal, but it was spelled digestive (as in biscuit)). It did add a certain flavour to the end of the meal. One host was quite taken by the liqueur and kept asking could she (ooh hell that narrows down the possibilities of who it could be) have a bottle. So I found a second bottle in the freezer for her, only to watch in amazement as she proceeded to drink most of this on her own. I had thought she wanted an empty bottle for its artistic qualities, I am still so innocent. In the interest of reducing medical negligence cases I did my best to try to help her with this second bottle. However I was met with some resistance every time she spotted me swapping her full glass for my empty glass. What I suffer in the interests of science will never be fully documented.

Our hosts did themselves proud with both un-accompanied and accompanied (by their distinguished pianist) singing. Just why the pianist was finally dragged screaming away from the piano by Peter still puzzles me. We will cast a tight veil over the efforts of the Irish contingent. Just let it be said they neither distinguished themselves in song, joke or story! Plans are in place to rectify the situation for the 3rd dinner (assuming any Irish will be invited ever again) The atmosphere and "bon homie" was so good in the warm boat club dining room that it was proposed that the next gathering of all present and any more that could be rounded up for the rematch should take place in Ireland.

So to finish on a more serious note. I propose the following and "Coach" can tidy up the details, I'm the broad concepts man! An extended weekend in either West Cork or West Kerry depending on where you fly into. I propose Castletown Bere area in deep west cork to get a taste of rural Ireland not infected with too many tourists. Or else the quiet side of Dingle, Coach you know where we stayed when we climbed Mount Brandon. Either area allows for some hill walking, sea fishing, water activities, cultural activities (mainly consisting of drinking copious quantities of a black liquid while simultaneously solving gobal warming, middle east crises, globalisation and the exploitation of the drinking classes by corporations and governments) So "Coach" get some idea of the interest level and we can start work on this "project". I will send you "classified" details under seperate cover.

Thanks to everyone for a most enjoyable night.

By the way The Film Fest was not bad either.

An Fearr Cuin