Wednesday, 11 February 2009

Top Tier Fruit Cake

Baked in Australia with love. Transported to Germany with care. Eaten in Ulm with absolute delight!

This delicious looking fruit cake was the top tier of my wedding cake. Well, not exactly. On the day the top was a mock tier decorated to look like the rest of the cake. The wedding cake was a gift from a good friend and she baked the top tier and packed it separately for me to take back to Germany. I have read that it is considered good luck to save the top tier of your wedding cake and eat it on your first anniversary, so that's what we did. I can confirm that one year of storage had no adverse affect on the flavour. It was delicious.

Cake is a grand German tradition. One of my favourites. You will be hard pressed to find a 'hausfrau' worth her salt who doesn't produce a torte or a tart, at least once a week. I think it is fitting to begin this 'Cake of the Week' section with this very special fruit cake. 'Cake of the Week' will give me the burdensome task of trying a new variety weekly and sharing it with you. Enjoy!

Monday, 9 February 2009

Romance

This conversation took place at about 07:15am German time, after I had showered and was getting ready for work.

He: Hmmm... Is that you?
Me: Is what me?
He: That smell. Are you using something new?
Me: Yes. My shampoo and bath gel are new.
He: No, no. (sniffs the air) It's not that. I am sure it's not that. It's a different smell.
Me: Really? Like what? I can't smell anything.
He: I don't know. I think it's either you or there's something smelly in the pipes... you know the sink. There might be something stuck in there.
Me: Umm... Are you telling me I smell like a blocked sink?
He: I said it's you OR the sink...
Me: Right...

Rituals


A very happy one year paper anniversary to us! One year later and I am certainly older but none the wiser about how people get to their 10th, 20th, 30th... Hard work it is indeed! But I think we've done pretty well. No actual acts of violence though admittedly plenty of thoughts. Lots of bad words (expressed and suppressed), and plenty of brow furrowing moments. Through it all we have managed to recoup and come together and perhaps even like each other a little more than before. It has been rewarding too. Many lessons learnt and so many happy memories created that one wonders where the brain will find room to store a whole lifetimes worth. We have definitely earned our stripe. To celebrate we are treating ourselves to a trip to Berlin. This will be my third time to Berlin in less than a year (I think I'm addicted) but my first trip with Husband. I have travelled there by rail and by road but this time we are splashing out and going by plane! This sort of makes up for our very cheap but hopefully not too dodgy hotel. Now, our relationship doesn't really have much to do with a boiled egg, except for when it comes to our ritual of weekend breakfasts. This is something that, one year on, I realise has become a big part of our lives. Not every weekend is a lazy weekend, but a good few of them are and one of our favourite things to do is to set the table, inside in winter or on the balcony in summer and to have a proper breakfast. By proper I mean not the type of brekkie you would have during the week. Nothing quick and convenient. A proper German breakfast is quite different to what we do in Australia. It is mostly cold, like cheese and smoked meats. We often receive home made jams as gifts, our favourite at the moment is plum and whisky. Then there is of course bread (sourdough is very common here) or pretzels and danishes - bought fresh from the bakery. I guess, there is really no need for me to explain how or why this has become a regular part of our lives. It is just really relaxing - he eats, I talk, he nods - I keep talking. It's great. I usually like to have a boiled egg, mashed on buttered toast with salt and pepper. Not always, but sometimes when we have just been to the market and bought some good eggs from a local farmer. I really do think that these moments are what keep me sane. Mushing that egg on my toast, sipping my tea, talking about my week. A boiled egg is equivalent to therapy in my house. My theory is if we keep up our weekend breakfast ritual I'll see you back here this time next year...