Harald Schmidt
seeks
happiness.
When Harald Schmidt, the renowned German late-night icon, journeys through Upper Austria, he vividly echoes the footsteps of acclaimed Austrian novelist and playwright Thomas Bernhard. Schmidt’s culinary odyssey, marked by visits to various inns, reflects the route famously chronicled by Bernhard in his book, “In der Frittatensuppe feiert die Provinz ihre Triumphe”, which translates to “The province celebrates its triumphs in pancake soup”. We sat down with Schmidt to discuss Wurstsalat (sausage salad), the art of the sophisticated dirty joke and the unique charm of Upper Austrian inn culture.
Plenty. I sign everything — even toddlers if they’re hoisted up to me. I’m not picky about it. What truly captivates me is hearing what people have to say. I found myself deeply engaged in conversations. Many locals spoke of Thomas Bernhard as though he were a major football star. They recounted tales as if they personally knew him, describing what he would order at the inn, and how he would often sit quietly in a corner, simply observing the people around him.
Absolutely. It was my first visit, and honestly, I first had to look up where exactly Upper Austria even was. These research trips can be quite the eye-opener. I hadn’t realised that much of the Salzkammergut region is actually in Upper Austria. The landscape had me mesmerised, and the cuisine? Fantastic. And let’s not forget the people — remarkably hospitable and open. That was definitely my impression.
Oh, I definitely count myself among those too ugly to hitchhike. I love travelling by train, and you Austrians have got it down to an art. On my trip, I took a train to Lambach and found myself dragging my suitcase across the main square on a sweltering Sunday afternoon. The bemused expressions of people watching a madman with a suitcase in Lambach at noon were quite something!
Quite well. People generally spoke to me in what’s more or less standard German but with a charming accent, which I absolutely adore. Being from Southern Germany, it’s not too far from my linguistic backyard. I can’t say I’ve mastered Upper Austrian, though. At least a couple of innkeepers were quite amused — or perhaps a bit annoyed — by how we Germans butcher “Frittatensuppe”. It seems my pronunciation leaves much to be desired.
Absolutely, it’s palpable. The inn culture is deeply embedded in the people’s lifestyle here. The inns we visited are often run by the same families for generations. You can sense this tradition immediately upon entering. Regular patrons have their own designated spots, and there’s a genuine vibe — nobody’s dressing up like they’re on a folk music set. People are authentic, as they should be. That’s what guests expect: an inn that feels like it did back in the days when smoking indoors was still the norm.
It demonstrates his appreciation for the quality found in simplicity. I share the same sentiment. I don’t need elaborate presentations or fancy garnishes. For me, a Wurstsalat with farmer’s bread is pure happiness.
…that Thomas Bernhard (1931-1989) is one of Austria’s most significant post-war writers? His work is distinguished not only by virtuosic language use but also by a perennially grumpy and often misanthropic view of the world, particularly Austria. A notable feature is the frequent characterisation of people and their culinary preferences.
…that Thomas Bernhard purchased a traditional Austrian farmstead known as a “Vierkanthof” (four-sided farm) in Obernathal in the municipality of Ohlsdorf in 1965? He later acquired properties in Altmünster and Ottnang, making the Upper Austrian Salzkammergut one of his central living spaces.
I wouldn’t exactly say that. I mean, I’m practically a walking bastion of dirty jokes. But even so, I always preface them with a trigger warning: “Attention, the next joke might offend!” If someone opts out, that’s perfectly fine by me; though it’s their loss, really. As for the inn, it requires a certain fit. If someone walks in and starts fussing over their cutlery, immediately I know they won’t quite blend in. These are the same folks who might complain about the sauce in a dining car. Dining car food has its own charm, exactly because it tastes like it’s from a dining car. If it’s too fresh, it actually bothers me.
Yes, that’s true. I sometimes indulged in three lunches a day, all in the name of getting the right photos for the book. The Wurstsalat at Kirchenwirt in Ohlsdorf was exceptional. Then there was the Tafelspitz at Hotel Schwan in Gmunden — an absolute revelation with its beef in broth! And at Gasthof Klinger, I couldn’t help myself; I had three servings of Frittatensuppe. Yes, I might have gained a kilo, but thankfully, my genes are quite forgiving!
For me, it certainly is. I like to combine the two. I eat during sex.
I delight in anything that involves language. It’s the small, everyday moments that captivate me. Like overhearing a couple arguing on a train, their voices hushed yet intense — it’s simply marvellous! Or when people playfully say goodbye with words like “Tschüssikovski” or use cheerful neologisms like “tipitopi” to describe a meal. These linguistic quirks really tickle me. Whether I’m in an inn, on a train or at an airport, language fascinates me. And sometimes, on walks, when I overhear groups of women my age, the tone of their conversations can be quite telling. I’ll catch something like, “This time that jerk’s going to bleed dry...” and I think, “Ah, someone’s divorce lawyer is upgrading his car soon.”
Absolutely, the destination is intriguing, but it’s really the journey that captures my interest. Once I arrive, I fully embrace relaxation. I don’t need sports or vigorous activities. I enjoy long hikes, but only when they conclude at a mountain hut with a quirky owner.
Neither. The thought of squeezing into a diving suit has me losing interest before I even start. While I love the idea of sailing, I prefer to enjoy it in the style of Onassis — letting others take the helm. The combination of water and mountains really appeals to me. In Upper Austria, you have those magnificent lakes, like Lake Attersee, which is a favourite among many actors. For my next holiday, I can imagine taking a train to spend a few days by one of the Salzkammergut lakes, then perhaps venturing off to France. That’s certainly on my agenda.
It’s a region of breathtaking landscapes, superb gastronomy and exceptional hotels. The locals are incredibly welcoming. Plus, I find that Upper Austria isn’t as swamped with tourists as Vienna or Salzburg. I frequently visit Austria for work nowadays, and for me, it genuinely feels like a holiday each time, just with a bit of stage time in the evenings. Truly wonderful!
Haute or inn cuisine?
Inn cuisine.
Beer or cider?
Beer.
Du or Sie?
Sie - formal form of address. I use “du”, but like to be addressed as “Sie”, as in “Sir” or “Your Grace”.
Lake Garda or Traunsee lake?
TrauMsee (‘Dreamlake’) — for that pun, I’ll stay an extra week!
Gmunden or Genoa?
Gmunden.
Apple strudel or cream puff?
Apple strudel, because the cream puffs make it too obvious that I’m a Thomas Bernhard aficionado.
Roast pork or Leberschädel (liver loaf wrapped in caul fat)?
Leberschädel, because I can’t get that as often.
Gluten-free or vegan?
(laughs) I’ll take a wheat beer, please.
Harald or Franz?
My middle name is Franz. Sometimes I call myself “Francois” when I order coffee in France, and then they call my name. The French just can’t pronounce Harald. But by the time they call me, I’ve forgotten I went by “Francois”, and then I end up without coffee. Maybe I should just stick to Franz — it might make me more approachable. Andre Heller does that too. Everyone calls him “Heller Franzi”