奥地利施蒂里亚欧洲美食考察手记

“此处万物都让我保持完整，我不曾舍弃任何部分，也不戴任何面具。”

——阿尔贝·加缪

九月的清晨，细雨将清凉均匀地洒在踏马石铺就的古老街巷上。我们到达奥地利维也纳，也到达了秋天。

金色大厅门口，工作人员正揭下昨晚音乐会的海报，晚到一天竟然就错过了爱乐乐团本季最后一场维瓦尔第《四季》的演出。我带着这样一点遗憾从这里出发——谁又能不带一点遗憾地离开维也纳呢？那未免也太遗憾了。接下来的几天，我们将穿过阿尔卑斯山东麓，进入奥地利的施蒂里亚地区，在中文世界它更常被译作施泰尔马克州。

地图上的距离很容易让人放松对行程强度的警惕。绕来绕去，也不过相当于我每年一回的成都到泸沽湖。真正提升这段旅程浓度的，不是车程，不是农庄访问的密度，甚至不是地貌与饮食风情的骤然转换，而是它不断迫使我重新定义一些自以为早已谙熟于胸的概念：土地究竟应该怎样理解？拥有究竟应该怎样定义？生产力如何在释放的同时保有必要的克制？一套共同标准又怎样把善意与秩序，注入每一件看得见的产品？

品质的起点：让土地、工艺与标准彼此作证

在国内食品行业，我们习惯于泛泛地谈论欧洲食品，“高品质”仿佛是一种共识。一方面，那是“虽不能至，心向往之”的仰慕；另一方面，它也常常留下来历不明的空洞感：如果高品质在欧盟范围内确有某种普遍性，它究竟从哪里开始？难道只是经济发达、消费成熟所形成的需求倒逼？

一路上带着这个问题的探寻，使我更新了对“在地性”的理解。

原来，在地性并不只是某一片区域独特风物与专属无形资产的表达，它首先是一个可以执行的系统。除了土壤、气候、种子或树种等自然属性，除了历史、人文、民族与信仰等文化属性，它还包括农人的判断、取用的节制、工艺的谨慎、可追溯的记录，以及能够约束每一环节的制度。它是物质、文化与行动的总和。

对于这样一个系统，高品质甚至不是最显眼的目标，而是必然出现的结果。

人们最终看到的，是一瓶油、一块巧克力、一杯酒；它们真正的起点，往往是一块没有被轻易允许翻动的田边草地，或一张必须如实填写的生产记录。欧盟的地理标志与有机制度，恰好为这种关系提供了一种可靠的语言。

地理标志首先讲述的是真实性：产品与产地之间获得认可的联系，以及与那个地方相关联的传统与技艺。原产地保护（PDO）要求食品的生产、加工和制备全部阶段都在指定区域完成，其品质或特征须与当地自然环境和人文技艺相关联；地理标志保护（PGI）则确认产品的品质、声誉或其他特征与某一地区相关联，至少有一个生产、加工或制备阶段在该地区完成。

欧盟有机标志讲述的则是生产方式。它不认证本地原产地，而是表明符合有机规则：禁止转基因，严格限制化肥和农药，支持土壤肥力和生物多样性，并要求在生产、加工和处理全过程实施管控。涉及动物时，有机规则还包括对动物福利的要求。

严格的条款与清晰的核查，让它们不只是可能沦为营销工具的标签，而是一份可以追问的承诺：你从哪里来，为什么具有这样的性格，又以什么方式持续生产。

在奥地利的农庄，主人当然会带我们看流程、仓储和检测，但在这之前，常常先去看坡向，看水从哪里来，看覆盖土地的作物、昆虫和野草，看草地上奔跑的孩子与动物。于是，游历的最后一环——产品鉴赏——突然变得丰厚。味道只是最后一页，不是全部故事，更不是唯一答案。

南瓜籽油：一滴油里的产区秩序

离开维也纳不久，起伏的施蒂里亚就铺展开来。它不像远处的阿尔卑斯那样凌厉，更多是被耕作的耐心磨缓的丘陵。南瓜田随季节延展，丰实的果肉并不是这次探寻的主角；真正被珍视的，是深藏其中的裸籽。这里的南瓜籽油，是欧洲餐桌上一种极具辨识度的风味。

我们参观了老旧的石磨和木柴加热的烘焙设备，了解生产从何开始、工艺如何发展。老磨坊是讲解与记忆之所，如今的生产则在新车间进行。然而它所代表的知识并未过时。火候决定坚果香如何舒展，也决定油脂能否保有应有的平衡；经验因此不是工艺的旧影，而仍是工艺本身的一部分。

清洗、干燥、筛选、去石、重力分选、色选，继而研磨、烘焙、压榨——这一长串词汇听来像冰冷的工业术语。可亲临现场，最能感到的却是人的温度：对每一批原料状态的判断，对火候的守候，对速度与力度的取舍。

施蒂里亚南瓜籽油的地理标志保护（PGI）以及有机生产规范，界定了原料、工艺与产地之间的关系，让消费者能够理解这瓶油的来处与边界；对生产者而言，它们则是一份必须长期遵守的规格书。

在油坊里，我们也更具体地理解了认证产品的另一项重要尺度：可持续。压榨后的残余被用于植物蛋白粉、个人护理成分等新的用途；太阳能与水力等可再生能源提供生产动力；稳定而公平的收购关系，使周边有机种植户获得长期合作的可能。所谓可持续，在这里不是“少用一点资源”的节约口号，而是一种经营闭环：土地不被透支，农户得以共生，副产价值再次转化。

这一切都与消费者最终感受到的品质，构成坚实的因果关系。品质不是某一季的高分，而是下一季仍能生产的能力。

从可可豆到巧克力：有机生产，可触可感

离开南瓜籽油农庄，一个小时后，我们走进一座充满奇幻色彩的巧克力工厂。空气也从油脂的浓香，转向可可、坚果与焦糖交织出的香甜。

一段精美欢快的影片，带着我们和巧克力一起回到远在非洲的可可产地。可可生长在热带，无法在奥地利本地种植。然而，对于本地可获得的原料，公司优先从本地采购，尽可能将周边农业生产纳入巧克力制作流程。在这里，产地问题遇到了另一个问题：原料在成为巧克力之前，是如何种植、筛选和处理的？

欧盟有机绿叶标志为承载它的产品提供了清晰的框架。有机作物生产采用维持土壤肥力和帮助管理虫害的做法，如堆肥、绿肥和鼓励自然天敌。禁止转基因，化肥和农药严格限制为有机生产授权使用的物质。添加剂和加工助剂受到限制，有机原料必须与非有机原料分开存放，在处理和加工全过程中保持记录和检查。因此，这个标志将成品巧克力与一条受控的生产链条连接起来。它不意味着每种原料都产自欧洲，而是意味着产品符合适用的欧盟有机要求。

有机不等于任其自然生长，更不等于不需要管理。恰恰相反，它要求更精确地安排采购、仓储、虫害控制与生产节奏。每一季可可要在下一季收获前完成加工，看似朴素，背后是库存、品质与资金安排的协同。

工厂之所以令人难忘，也在于它背后那片广阔起伏的农庄。各种植物丛生遍野、千姿百态，据说“95%都可食用”；草地覆盖的山坡上，鸡、鸭、牛、羊和驴子自在散步。周日，人们在工厂门口排起长队，品尝多种巧克力，农庄则变成了周边家庭的亲子乐园。生产、教育、体验与休闲在这里并置，既不互相遮蔽，也不必互相牺牲。

可持续当然需要投入。但让可持续成为现实的投入，最终会带来更健康的土地、更稳定的供应关系，以及消费者愿意反复信任的味道。它的价值超越下一批巧克力，延伸至让生产得以延续的条件。除了有机认证，公司的公平贸易承诺与商业关系回应了责任的另一个面向：种植原料的人们。直接采购、长期合作和支持种植者的价格，都属于这个故事的一部分。它们与有机生产互补，同时回答一个不同的问题。在生产端，小批量加工、清洁能源和环境管理进一步丰富了公司的做法。这些选择共同让责任在工厂的日常工作中可见。

在施蒂里亚，我所见到的是一个不可战胜的秋天。

它的不可战胜并不意味着永恒的丰收。相反，它承认藤蔓会凋落，承认烘焙之火有它需要照看的情感，承认来自远方的果实有需要抚慰的乡愁。它承认自然有自己的节奏，人只能在其中尽责，不能妄称主宰。它承认田野终将在收获之后休养生息，才可能温柔地去守候下一个四季。

欧盟的地理标志与有机制度为这种责任赋予了具体形态：保护区域产品的真实性，为有机生产设定可核查的要求。那种不肯被轻易击败的东西，来自土地的厚实，来自生产者的克制，也来自为后人守护知识与资源的承诺。

“Irresistible Europe, Countless Combinations” Press Trip Notes

In Austrian Styria, There Is an Invincible Autumn

“Everything here keeps me whole; I have abandoned no part of myself and wear no mask.”

Albert Camus

On a September morning, a light rain spread its coolness evenly across the old streets paved with cobblestones. We arrived in Vienna Austria, and we arrived in autumn.

Outside the Golden Hall, staff were taking down the posters for the previous evening’s concert. Arriving just one day late meant missing the Vienna Philharmonic’s final performance of Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons this season. I set off from here carrying that small sense of regret, who could leave Vienna without a little regret? And that, perhaps, would be the real regret. Over the next few days, we would travel along the eastern foothills of the Alps into Styria, the Austrian region also commonly known in Chinese as “Steiermark.”

Distances on a map can easily make us underestimate the intensity of a journey. Winding our way around, the distance was little more than my annual trip from Chengdu to Lugu Lake. What truly gave this journey its intensity was not the time on the road, nor the density of farm visits, nor even the sudden changes in landscape and culinary culture. It was the way the journey continually forced me to redefine concepts I had thought I already understood: How should we understand land? How should ownership be defined? How can productivity be unleashed while retaining necessary restraint? And how can a shared set of standards bring goodwill and order into every tangible product?

Where Quality Begins:

Letting Land, Craft and Standards Speak for One Another

In China's food industry, we are accustomed to speaking of European food in general terms; "high quality" seems to be a consensus. On one hand, it is an admiration of "though unable to attain it, my heart yearns for it"; on the other, it often leaves a vague sense of emptiness: if high quality does have a certain universality within the EU, where does it begin? Is it merely demand driven by economic development and mature consumption?

The search for this question along the way updated my understanding of "localness."

It turns out that localness is not merely the expression of a region's unique features and exclusive intangible assets. It is first of all an executable system. In addition to natural attributes such as soil, climate, seeds or tree species, and in addition to cultural attributes such as history, humanities, ethnicity and belief, it also includes farmers' judgment, restraint in use, caution in craft, traceable records, and institutions capable of constraining every link. It is the sum of matter, culture and action.

For such a system, high quality is not even the most conspicuous goal, but an inevitable result.

What people ultimately see is a bottle of oil, a piece of chocolate, a glass of wine; their true starting point is often a patch of grassland at the edge of a field that is not easily allowed to be turned over, or a production record that must be filled in truthfully. The EU's geographical indication and organic systems happen to provide a reliable language for this relationship.

Geographical indications speak first of authenticity: a product’s recognised connection to its origin, and the traditions and know-how associated with that place. Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) requires, for food products, that all stages of production, processing and preparation take place in the designated area, with qualities or characteristics linked to its natural environment and human expertise. Protected Geographical Indication (PGI) recognises a product whose quality, reputation or other characteristic is linked to a particular region, with at least one stage of production, processing or preparation taking place there.

The EU organic logo speaks of production methods. It does not certify local origin. Instead, it indicates compliance with organic rules: prohibiting GMOs, strictly restricting fertilisers and pesticides, supporting soil fertility and biodiversity, and requiring controls throughout production, processing and handling. Where animals are involved, organic rules also include requirements for their welfare. Strict clauses and clear verification make them not merely labels that might be reduced to marketing tools, but a promise that can be questioned: where do you come from, why do you have this character, and by what means do you continue to produce?

On Austrian farms, the owners would of course show us processes, storage and testing, but before that, they often first took us to look at slope aspect, where water comes from, the crops, insects and wild grasses covering the land, and the children and animals running on the grassland. Thus the final link of the visit—product appreciation—suddenly became richer. Taste is only the last page, not the whole story, and certainly not the only answer.

Pumpkin Seed Oil:

The Order of a Region in a Single Drop of Oil

Soon after leaving Vienna, the rolling landscape of Styria unfolded. Unlike the distant Alps, it is not sharp and severe; it is a landscape of hills softened by the patience of cultivation. Pumpkin fields extend with the seasons; the abundant flesh is not the protagonist of this exploration; what is truly treasured is the hulless seed hidden within. The pumpkin seed oil here is a highly recognizable flavor on European tables.

We were shown the old stone mill and wood-fired roasting equipment to understand where production began and how the craft developed.

The old mill is a place of explanation and memory, while today’s production takes place in the newer facility. Yet the knowledge it represents remains relevant. The heat determines how the nutty aroma unfolds and whether the oil retains its proper balance; experience is therefore not a shadow of craft, but still part of craft itself. Cleaning, drying, sieving, destoning, gravity separation, color sorting, then grinding, roasting, pressing, this long string of words sounds like cold industrial terminology. But on site, what one feels most is human warmth: judgment about the condition of each batch of raw materials, attention to the fire, choices about speed and force.

The PGI status and organic production standards for Styrian pumpkin seed oil define the relationship between raw materials, craft and origin, allowing consumers to understand the origin and boundaries of this bottle of oil; for producers, they are a specification that must be observed over the long term.

In the oil mill, we also understood more concretely another important dimension of certified products: sustainability. The residue after pressing is used for plant protein powder, personal care ingredients and other new purposes; renewable energy such as solar and hydropower provides production power; stable and fair purchasing relationships give surrounding organic growers the possibility of long-term cooperation. Sustainability here is not a slogan of saving "use a little less resource," but a closed business loop: land is not overdrawn, farmers can coexist, and by-product value is transformed again.

All this forms a solid causal relationship with the quality consumers ultimately feels. Quality is not a high score in one season, but the ability to still produce in the next.

From Cocoa Bean to Chocolate:  Organic Production, Made Tangible

After leaving the pumpkin seed oil farm, an hour later we entered a chocolate factory full of fantasy. The air also shifted from the rich aroma of oil to the sweetness of cocoa, nuts and caramel.

A beautiful and cheerful film took us, together with chocolate, back to cocoa origins far away in Africa. Cocoa grows in the tropics and cannot be grown locally in Austria. For ingredients available locally, however, the company prioritises local sourcing, bringing nearby agricultural production into the chocolate-making process wherever possible.

Here, the question of origin met another question: how are ingredients grown, selected and handled before they become chocolate? The EU organic green-leaf logo provides a clear framework for the products that carry it. Organic crop production uses practices that maintain soil fertility and help manage pests, such as compost, green manure and encouragement of natural predators. GMOs are prohibited, and fertilisers and pesticides are strictly restricted to substances authorised for organic production.

Additives and processing aids are restricted, and organic ingredients must be kept separate from non-organic ones, with records and checks throughout handling and processing.

The logo therefore connects the finished chocolate to a controlled production chain. It does not mean that every ingredient was grown in Europe; it means that the product meets the applicable EU organic requirements.

Organic does not mean letting nature take its course, nor does it mean no management is needed. On the contrary, it requires more precise arrangement of purchasing, storage, pest control and production rhythm. Each season's cocoa must be processed before the next harvest; seemingly simple, behind it is coordination of inventory, quality and financing.

Sustainability certainly costs money. But the investment that makes it real can contribute to healthier land, more stable supply relationships and flavours consumers are willing to trust again and again. Its value extends beyond the next batch of chocolate, towards the conditions that allow production to continue.

Alongside organic certification, the company’s fair-trade commitments and commercial relationships address another part of responsibility: the people who grow the ingredients. Direct purchasing, long-term cooperation and prices that support growers belong to this part of the story. They complement organic production, while answering a different question.

On the production side, small-batch processing, clean energy and environmental management add further dimensions to the company’s approach. Together, these choices make responsibility visible in the everyday work of the factory.

What makes the factory unforgettable is also the vast rolling farm behind it. Various plants grow densely and in myriad forms, said to be "95% edible"; on grassy hillsides, chickens, ducks, cows, sheep and donkeys stroll freely. On Sundays, people line up at the factory entrance to taste various chocolates, and the farm becomes a family playground for surrounding households. Production, education, experience and leisure are juxtaposed here, neither overshadowing nor sacrificing one another.

In Styria, what I saw was an invincible autumn.

Its invincibility does not mean eternal harvest. On the contrary, it acknowledges that vines will wither, that the fire of roasting has emotions that need tending, and that fruits from afar have homesickness that needs soothing. It acknowledges that nature has its own rhythm, and that humans can only do their part within it, not claim mastery. It acknowledges that fields will finally rest after harvest, and only then can they gently wait for the next four seasons.

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The EU’s geographical indication and organic systems give concrete form to this responsibility: protecting the authenticity of regional products and setting verifiable requirements for organic production.

That which refuses to be easily defeated rests on the solidity of the land, the restraint of producers, and the commitment to preserve both knowledge and resources for those who come next.