One may point out that this is not a Brettljause but a Marende, which is something altogether different. On the other hand, a Marende – according to someone who knows – means nothing else but a Jause in Italian, and the Brettl it came on was wooden enough. Add to this the fact that the dish was served in a seriously “urig” hut on the top of a pleasantly high mountain (the Plose), and it becomes clear that by ordering this Marendebrettl one expects a Brettljause, so let’s evaluate it accordingly.
Actually, unlike the Austrian Brettljause, a South Tyrolean Marende has a well-defined minimum in terms of its ingredients that it must adhere to: it must have some Speck, some Kaminwurzen, usually some cheese of a non-prescribed type and some horseradish in the creamy form. I hate to admit that this particular Brettljause (sorry, Marendebrettl) did not go far from the minimum. A small slice of a tomato and a big pickled cucumber could not add much to what were basically a big slice of Speck, a whole Kaminwurzen sausage and three slices of a tasteless cheese.
The location would normally add a lot of points to the authenticity, but this was sadly not the case: nothing at all gave away any indication that the ingredients didn’t come from a supermarket. Moreover, if they did, it must have happened quite some time ago, as evidenced by a rather tough Speck and some white spots on the Kaminwurzen. If the Ochsenalm were a super-hard-to-reach place, this would almost be forgivable, but seeing a car parked neatly next to the hut, I can’t help feeling disappointed. And the wine they brought me was actually a small bottle with a metal screw cap – boo!
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