Unsicht Unseen

Written by: Jennifer Justice
Today I received an email from a friend who is working in Germany. He wanted to know if I'd like to dine at Unsicht - Bar in Berlin during my vacation, scheduled for late fall. For some reason, I'd thought this restaurant was located in the UK - perhaps there is one like it there. I believe there's one located on the west coast too - owned and operated by a blind chef if my memory serves.

By "like it" I mean a restaurant with a truly unique twist. Patrons dine in total darkness, experiencing elegant three - and - four course meals elegantly served by blind/ visually impaired waiters.

Unsicht- Bar (meaning invisible or unseeable) has locations in Berlin, Hamburg and Cologne and should not be confused with Blindekuh (the Blind Cow), a restaurant with locations in Zurich and Basel. According to Wikipedia, Blindekuh was established by the Swiss - German Blind- Leicht Foundation to create employment opportunities for blind people in the food service industry. The name comes from the German equivalent of the game Blind Man's Bluff. I've yet to translate the German language press releases about Unsicht - Bar to determine if it too is a Blind - Leicht project. Obviously this is a story which begs more research and a first- hand account (I love it when research involves food)!

The Unsicht - Bar website explains that meals and table settings are arranged to coordinate to the numbers on a clock face. Fair enough, I can see how this might help the uninitiated sighted person to navigate their first meal in the dark. However, the site also notes that the food is prepared in bite- sized portions so that visitors don't have to worry about cutting their food!

As someone with a vision impairment, I find this consideration amusing as well as a wee bit troubling. It reminded me of a time hanging out at a friend's house when I was nine. My friend's mom made us lunch. Setting the plate in front of me, she picked a knife and began cutting the food for me! We tried to laugh it off- my friend had certainly eaten with me enough to know I could cut my own food. But her mom made an assumption based on damaging misconceptions of what blind/ visually impaired people are thought to be able to do.

I remember her mom getting really embarrassed and hurriedly saying something like, "Oh I'm so used to cutting other people's food, I don't know when to stop!" My friend offered that she still tried to cut up her food at times as well, but it was a weak cover up.

I'm quite sure I could cut a steak or debone a fish without looking. But then, I've relied on my sense of touch much longer than Unsicht - Bar's sited patrons. For me, touch has always been an integral component and ally to seeing. For years I thought that everyone linked sight to touch like I did, that if you love art and aesthetics then you're a sensualist to boot. I now know that isn't necessarily the case. Perhaps Unsicht's boneless/ knifeless policy is nothing more than a bit of hand- holding intended for ambivalent guests, the clock face analogy extended to touch- phobic foodies who want to know exactly what they're putting in their mouths.

It just so happens that Eastern Europe is flecked with diamonds- in- the- rough tourist attractions of particular interest to PWDs and "With-" minded folk. Other sites on my Hit List: the Kasper Hauser Museum in Ansbach, Germany for a peak into a decidedly intriguing passage in the history of early specialized education. Too bad I won't be there in time for the festival held in Hauser's honor each September.

I'm beginning to think that Ansbach just may be my spiritual home, as their other major attraction is none other than the extravagant Rococo Festival held in July. I'll take any excuse to dress up in skirts and big hair! I am a southern girl at heart.

Visual description: A double portrait of Kasper Hauser, in bronze or possibly iron, stands in a cobble stone square. The figure in the foreground has a disheveled appearance and stands with head cast downward. He holds a battered satchel in one hand and a letter in the other. The companion figure in the background is poised and finely dressed. His hat lies on the ground at his feet, as if knocked off or lost in some unseen disturbance.

Cross-posted at Pedestrian Hostile