Linz, Austria This poster seemed out of place in the modern art museum of Linz, which mostly features Austrian artists. If the headline were in German, I might see it as a Nazi propaganda poster. What’s the story? The artist, Herbert Bayer, was indeed Austrian. Having studied at the Bauhaus in Weimar, he was quite noted in Germany, where he moved to be the art director of Vogue in Berlin in 1928. But when works of his were identified by the Nazis as “degenerate art,” he fled Germany and was able to relocate to the U.S. in 1938.
His career as a graphic designer, painter, photographer, sculptor, art director, environmental and interior designer, and architect gave him a very comfortable life in Montecito, California, and his plea for eggs was an American propaganda poster made in 1942. Funny. We are now certainly in need of (cheaper) eggs ourselves.
The museum sits on the Danube and is of course very modern in design,
It begins with an explanation of what the museum is doing to authenticate and restitute works of art that were looted by the Nazis. Since they began this effort – 50 years after the war – 13 paintings have been restored to families of the rightful owners. Better late than never.
Here is a sampling of works in their permanent collection.
The river tour boats must be quite busy in better weather, but today was as gloomy as yesterday, without the rain.
We started our day with one of those ‘petit train’ rides around town, and then walked some more. We saw the cathedral, which is quite lovely, even though it has the distinction of being the church where young Hitler was confirmed.
One place we noticed was a meat loaf specialty restaurant, which is mostly take-out. It was packed and the variety seemed overwhelming.
The customers looked very passionate and very specific about how they wanted their meatloaf. You had to be there.
Don’s Food Corner
Our refreshment after the “petit train” experience was a sweet and some tea (for me) and hot chocolate for Jo. This charming charming bakery claims to be the oldest in Linz, with origins dating back to the 14th century. A beautiful little café.
We had what I would call “bear claws,” but I think they really have something to do with looking like a crown. Either way, I had one that was filled with poppy seeds, which I always associate with baked goods from Eastern European countries, and Jo had one filled with ground nuts. Both featured lots of cinnamon and some very nice icing on top.
For our main meal, we went back to the place that turned us away the other day because we didn’t have reservations. We learned our lesson and booked for tonight.
Like Vienna, this menu featured the five or six standard things you see on any menu at a traditional Austrian restaurant. Except here, the main protein source was pork. So, it was wiener schnitzel made with pork. Jo decided to pass on that version. Instead, she had a fried chicken cutlet, which was basically a chicken schnitzel. It was fine, but compared with the real thing, it could only earn a B or maybe a B-.
She started with a cup of cream of potato soup. There was very little cream in evidence. But it was hot, which was welcome in today’s cold and wet weather, and it had hearty potato flavor.
I started with a cup of beef broth that promised to have some type of dumplings in it. But it looked like a lot of noodles to me. I could tell the noodles were homemade because they were cut so unevenly. The broth was unusually rich tasting, although it was a clear broth.
Then, I went on to beef goulash. It was fairly standard. But instead of the usual mashed potatoes, it was served with a large portion of spätzle. You don’t see spätzle very often in Vienna, but we’re closer to the German border here and I think the German influence is more strongly felt here than in Vienna.
We tried a dessert as well. The English translation was plum jam in a fried sandwich. Well, why not? It actually was two slices of white bread with plum jam in-between and fried like French toast. It was nestled in a generous amount of vanilla sauce. The sandwiches were hot, but the sauce was cold. It was a little weird. I will not be trying to replicate it. Let’s just call it a memory of Linz.
