“The Easter Rabbit is misunderstood.” This solemn pronouncement appears in Meyers Konversations-Lexikon, the accepted encyclopedia of the Viennese. Next to its ponderous pages of Gothic script, all other encyclopedias make light reading. The Viennese, who live by their Lexikon, take this information seriously and go far in their effort to respect the Easter Rabbit and to make him comfortable, if not actually to understand him.
Two weeks before Easter they sow oats on shallow platters and place the platters in their sunniest windows. If they provide proper care and watering, they can look forward to a good six-inch stand of fresh green oats by Easter Sunday morning. There the pampered rabbit lays an arrangement of brightly colored hard-boiled eggs.
His amazing task completed, he sits down in pride and comfort among the eggs in the largest of the oat nests. Every Viennese family owns an Easter Rabbit or at least a rabbit mold for baking. The inedible rabbits are made of plaster, wood, or papier-mâché, and the most magnificent are covered with genuine rabbit fur, always elegantly referred to as du vrai Lapin, of course. Whether permanent or baked for the occasion, the rabbits are always decorated with fresh new ribbons and have flower garlands wreathed around their necks. The eggs, instead of being hidden for the children to find, are used in traditional games and races, which make up an important part of Easter Sunday afternoon. The games also serve to crush, crack, and otherwise ruin many of the eggs, which helps to eliminate countless suppers of Indische Eier in curry sauce or Eier-im-Nest.
All of Vienna looked forward to the coming of Easter with a combination of spiritual and gastronomical pleasure. Fran Hofrat's oldest daughter Luzetta, called Lutz, counted the hours. She was in love and ready for a few more profane and a few less sacred preoccupations. She did not even know whether her young Herr Doktor's romantic interest had survived the soul-searching forty days of Lent. After a delightful, though well-chaperoned carnival season, Lutz had decided the Doktor was “perfect.” Fran Hofrat said “perhaps presentable,” and Herr Hofrat said “promising.” Since Shrove Tuesday the young couple had been able to manage only a few chance meetings, at art galleries, concerts, and similar gatherings approved for Lent. Actually, there was little chance involved, since Doktor Karl had plotted carefully and knew exactly when Lutz would cross the Ringstrasse and where she was bound. He was, in fact, a far more promising young man than Herr Hofrat suspected.
Whether the feverishly hoped-for proposal would actually come could not be predicted, since Doktor Karl's heart was not the only factor involved. The otherwise romantic Viennese were curiously mercantile in weighing career, family, fortune, and their grandparents' consent against what is known as the dictates of the heart.
A proposal in Vienna was not, as Franz Schubert would have you believe, a matter of a tremulously whispered declaration made under a lilac tree or at the side of a flower-festooned arbor by moonlight. It usually came through the Staatspost AMT, the post office, by broad daylight, not to the intended bride but to her mother, in the form of a rather cold-blooded letter. A man did not bare his heart on bended knee; he did it sitting at a desk, with rough penciled notes, with dictionary consultations and a wastebasket full of discarded first drafts. Finally he took his labor of love, in fear and trembling, not to the object of his passion, but to the corner postbox to be carried by a flat-footed postman to a mother who opened it along with her invitations and bills.
For some reason, the letter never asked for the beloved and treasured child but only for the hand of Fräulein Luzetta, your honored daughter. After due parental consideration the child was summoned and informed by her father of her young man's honorable intentions. A call could then be expected with a verbal request and flowers. If the young man was not acceptable to the young lady's parents, whom notoriously he did not plan to marry, she rarely learned that she had received and rejected a proposal, a fact which left Viennese ladies nothing to mull over in their old age.
On Easter Sunday morning Lutz accompanied her parents to the Stephansdom, the cathedral. As Vienna prepared to celebrate the Resurrection and the Light, Lutz took a quick look around and manipulated her mother to a strategically placed prie-dieu from which she could keep a careful lookout. She spotted Doktor Karl similarly ensconced behind his mother during the Gospel, and after that, much that should have been listened to in reverence was lost upon her. Apparently all was well—young Karl saw her, and from his blush of pleasure, she felt certain that the interrupted romance would be resigned and negotiations might reasonably start at any time, probably soon.
Young Lutz had the example of her four maternal aunts to guide her choice. Tante Pia's husband sat in the Chamber of Advocates. Tante Pauline's husband sat in the Ministerium, and Tante Felicitus was in Boston with her husband, whose dignity could not be measured by where he sat, but who was nonetheless a highly regarded curator at a Massachusetts museum. All nurses and governesses in the farflung family always used this fact to great advantage. The children were asked “Wo ist Tante Felicitas?” and were answered, “In Maasaaatschooosettts,” with crows of delight.
Tante Marietta, the one who had made the méstalliance of the century, was married to a man who didn't sit at all but rather reclined at home in Taormina and did nothing but cook divinely. She was reputedly extremely happy although a traveling Viennese reported that her husband always wore slippers! He spoiled his Cara Marietta and sang Puccini while he cooked. It was obviously not only a misalliance, it was a catastrophe.
When the Hofrat, Hofrärin, and Lutz returned from Mass and removed their Easter finery, the cards of Herr Geheimrat and his family were presented, including two from their perfect, promising, and presentable son, Karl, Doktor of Law. Everyone was electrified. Lent had obviously made the heart grow fonder, and it might be said that the affair was now in full swing. True, both families would first have to be out in force, the most distant connections from the provinces would have to have their say, and the formal letter would have to be written, but the call—the all-important call, which lasted just the correct number of minutes and included all the proper phrases and subjects—had been made. The fact that it had occurred on Easter Sunday morning, at the very first opportunity. so to speak, made for great rejoicing not only in heaven but in Vienna as well.
Young Karl would be given very few opportunities to be gallant and charming before their Verlobung, the engagement, was announced and the banns were read. After that, they would be permitted to walk arm in arm and call each other “Du.” But the real courtship, the one that made Viennese husbands so attractive, would only start after the marriage, when he possessed the hand of Fran Hofrat's oldest daughter and could communicate with her without the help of intermediaries. Frau Geheimrat would have intimate Jausen with Frau Hofrat, although they would probably never descend to first names.
Teckla, in the kitchen, was so carried away with the whole prospect that she planned to insert an advertisement in the Ene Anzeiger, the marriage column, on Easter Monday morning. She advertised for a middle-aged, unattached man, and the final two words, at five schillings each, were Zwecks Ehe, purpose marriage. These activities always frightened the Hofrätin, especially with Verlobungs Feste lying ahead and a wedding day looming. But fortunately Teckla, who had made similar advances in the past, had always discovered, in time, that she was not being sought for herself alone but for her Art. Once she had discovered at the very last moment—the veil was actually paid for—that the honorable widower to whom she was about to give her hand owned an inn for which he badly needed a cook.
Teckla spent Easter Sunday composing ads, with the result that the Schinken, the Easter ham, suffered. Lutz, having gone to seventh heaven, could not keep her mind on the games and races, and battered and crushed so many eggs that it looked as if supper would be Kalter Schinken rather than eggs.
The Easier Rabbit, the misunderstood, leftover symbol of spring and fertility, sat in his empty nest. In the case of the Hofrat's household, where he was baked fresh each year, he lost first his ears and then his entire head to Lutz' young brother long before he was served up for supper.
Egerländer Schinken (Ham with Orange Sauce)
In a heavy skillet brown 2 tablespoons powdered sugar and pour over it 4 ounces warm Curaçao. Ignite the spirit and, when the flame dies out, add the juice of 2 oranges, the slivered outside rind of the oranges, and salt to taste. Set aside the orange sauce.
Trim an 8 to 10-pound precooked ham and bake it in a moderately hot oven (375° F.) until it is hot, basting it frequently with a mixture of 1 cup each of orange juice, Sherry, and water. Spread the hot ham with 1/2 cup dark brown sugar and continue to bake it, basting, for a total of 1 1/2 hours.
Cook 1 1/2 pounds chestnuts and force them through a ricer. Add butter and salt to taste and flavor with 2 tablespoons brandy.
Just before the ham is served, strain 1 cup of the pan juices, skim off the fat, and add the juices to the orange sauce. Heat the sauce and correct the seasoning with salt. Serve the ham with the chestnut puree and serve the orange sauce separately.
Prager Schinken Gefüllt (Stuffed Prague Ham)
Have the butcher bone an 8- to 10-pound precooked ham and cut a hollow through the entire ham. (Use the meat removed for ground-ham dishes.) Fill the hollow with a mixture of 1 pound mushrooms, chopped fine and browned in butter, 1 cup dry whole-wheat or ryebread crumbs, 2 1/2 ounces goose-liver paste, 1/2 cup blanched almonds, slivered, and 1 onion, chopped very fine. Add Sherry to taste. The stuffing should be very firm.
Trim off all excess fat and bind the ham with a strip of cloth, securing the filling but leaving most of the surface of the ham exposed. Bake the ham in a moderately hot oven (375° F.) for 3/4 hour, basting it occasionally with Sherry. Serve it surrounded with fresh pineapple rings filled with matrons glacis and accompany it with potato balls mixed with tiny glazed onions. The ham may be served hot or cold.
Schinken mit Nelken und Bananen (Ham with Cloves and Bananas)
In a roasting pan place a well-trimmed 8- to 10-pound precooked ham with 4 cups water and 1 cup dark brown sugar. Bake the ham in a moderately hot oven (375° F.) for 1 hour, basting it frequently. Take the ham from the oven and let it cool in the liquid in tinpan. Remove it from the pan and stud it with whole cloves, spaced about 3/4 inch apart.
Discard the pan juices and return the ham to the roasting pan. Pour over it a mixture of 2 cups red wine, 1 cup pineapple chunks in their juice, 1/2 cup each of orange juice and chutney, 1/4 cup broken walnut meats, 2 tablespoons tomato paste, a dash each of Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco sauce, and salt and pepper to taste. Bake the ham in a moderately hot oven (375° F.), basting frequently, for 40 minutes, or until it is heated through.
Halve 6 bananas lengthwise and lay them, flat side down, on a well-buttered baking sheet. Dust them with 1/2 Cup sugar and broil them for about 5 minutes, until the sugar is brown. Surround the ham with a border of duchess potatoes (October, 1958). Serve a banana half with each slice of ham and serve the sauce from the roasting pan separately.
Schinken Blamenkobl (Ham and Cauliflower)
Simmer 2 medium-sized heads of cauliflower in salted water until they are half cooked, about 10 to 15 minutes, depending on their size. Drain them well, cut out the stems, and separate them into flowerets as quickly as possible.
Grind enough cold boiled ham to make 2 1/2 cups. Butter an ovenproof dish and fill it with alternate layers of hot cauliflower and ground ham. Press the ham into the spaces between the flowerets. Sprinkle the layers with grated Parmesan as you fill the dish, using about 1/2 cup.
Beat 2 egg yolks into 1 1/2 cups sour cream and add 2 tablespoons finely chopped onion. 1 tablespoon chopped parsley, 1 teaspoon paprika, and 1/2 teaspoon salt, if the ham is very mild. Beat the mixture well and pour it over the ham and cauliflower, making sure it penetrates the whole mixture. Spread the casserole with 1/4 cup grated Parmesan, dot it with butter, and bake it in a moderately hot oven (375° F.) for 20 minutes, or until the top is browned. Accompany the casserole with a green salad.
Mandel Schinken (Ham with Almonds)
Bake a trimmed 8- to 10-pound precooked ham in a moderately hot oven (375° F.) for 1 hour. Cut the center section into slices 1/2 inch thick. Rub each slice with a cut garlic clove, dip the slices in beaten egg, and roll them in blanched slivered almonds until they are well coated. Pound the almond slivers firmly into the ham. Saute the ham slices very carefully in butter until the almonds are brown. As they are done, transfer them with a spatula to the center of a wide ovenproof dish and keep them hot. Border the dish with a ring of uniform cold peeled tomatoes stuffed with pink potato salad. Follow any potato salad recipe, adding enough tomato paste to tint it pink. Sprinkle the stuffed tomatoes with chopped parsley.
Schinken Fleckerdeln (Ham with Noodle Squares)
On a board break 12 ounces medium noodles into little squares. Boil the noodle bits in lightly salted water for 10 minutes and drain them well. The amount of salt will depend on the saltiness of the ham. Pour over the noodles 1 cup cold water and drain them again. Combine the cooked noodle bits with 2 cups finely ground ham and 1 cup finely diced Swiss cheese. In an ovenproof baking dish, cream 1/4 cup butter and spread it on the sides and bottom of the dish. Turn the ham and noodle mixture into the dish and pour over it 1 cup cream mixed with 3 well beaten eggs and salt, if needed. Sprinkle 2 tablespoons melted butter over the top and bake the mixture in a moderate oven (350° F.) for 1 hour, or until the top is well browned. Serve the casserole with tomato salad.