outside, the women in embroidered skirts and
blouses that billow at the shoulder, and the
men wearing traditional hats of green felt.
At the edge of this picture-perfect village
is a dainty farmhouse with a wind chime,
and a wooden balcony whose balusters are
as lat and neatly shaped as pieces of cut
gingerbread. The prettiest garden you’ll
ever see wraps around the farmhouse,
fragrant and busy with insects. But what
catches my attention are the jars. Dozens of
them sit in the sun on a raised patio, each
carefully labelled and illed with a diferent
coloured concoction. I bend to pick one up.
“Marjoram!” comes a call from nowhere,
and I straighten up guiltily. “It’s good for
sore noses.”
Rosi, the owner of the farmhouse,
materialises from behind a planter spilling
over with herbs. “Do you have a sore nose?”
she asks, and seems a touch disappointed
when I shake my head. “The lu?” She points
to a jar illed with an orange-red mush of
nasturtium leaves. “That will make a litre
of drops to cure you from lu aches.” I shake
my head again. “Ah, well,” she sighs lightly,
before brightening as a thought strikes her.
“How about this one? It helps if you’ve lost
your voice.”
Introductions made, Rosi invites me into
a cabin containing a pine dresser, a basket
of drying herbs and shelf upon shelf of her
potions. There are bottles tall and squat,
cakes of soap that soten the skin, tubs with
balms for noses and creams for hands, and
phials of oils and powders every colour of the
rainbow. It’s like a witch’s workshop.
This is Obersteghof, one of 16 so-called
‘herb huts’ along a special hiking route for
summer tourists. Hikers receive a sticker
when they visit a hut, and if they collect eight
stickers they are awarded cloth bags of herbal
products. A local lady has even written a fable
about each hut; the story of Rosi’s farm is
pasted to the wall, illustrated with cartoons
of a wolf licking his lips hungrily at a wide-
eyed deer.
“It’s always been my hobby to create things
from plants in the garden — and now it’s
my job,” smiles Rosi, who sells her remedies
and leads wild herb tours. “I make cordials,
too. Try this,” she adds, passing me a glass
of her latest work-in-progress. “I extracted
it from that feathery plant out there, which I
call ‘Coke cabbage’.” The liquid is yellow and
tastes like nothing I’ve ever drunk before,
combining lavours of lavender, lemon and,
yes, a hint of cola. It’s deliciously refreshing.
However, the true master of magical drinks
is to be found further along the herb hut
hiking route, in the forest above the village of
Dienten. Grünegg Alm is another impossibly
quaint farmhouse, built 500 years ago, with a
turning waterwheel and hens clucking about
the yard. Inside, Johannes — who lives here
with his parents — stands beside a still; it’s a
beautiful thing made of polished copper that
glows golden on his cheek. Two cylinders riseMaster gin- and schnaps-
maker Johannes Rainer tastes
his award-winning schnapsApril 2020 115AUSTRIA