I have one superpower. I can shop — anywhere. For example, I once went to the quaint Bavarian town of Berchtesgaden and took a stroll around the limpid Königssee. On return from the Malerwinkel — the painter’s corner on the Bavarian mountain lake — I happened across a stall. Well, I had to stop. After all, here was a picnic table covered with white plastic tubs of varying sizes. “What’s in them?” I asked, as my husband collapsed onto a rock. “Aber es ist Murmeltier Salbe,” the woman in a dirndl said, as if surprised I didn’t know this famous local product. She mimed slathering it on her arms. Then she said in a louder voice, “Cream from the FETT,” she said, “of the marmot! Murmeltier Fett!”
Need you ask, reader, whether I wanted a small, medium or large pot of marmot fat ointment? Nein! I went large.
