Crema

Breakfast places, TopPot Donuts (even with your bad coffee and not-the-best donuts), Americanos, hair-dressers in good taste who know what your doing, friends who live upstairs, and bacon…I miss you and am coming back to you in 3 months and we are going to party like I never left. 

But for now, I will embrace the fresh bread that is baked under my apartment everyday, the high schoolers with cellos who practice in the street outside my front door, the quacking ducks outside my window, the different light, the different rain…Don’t mistake me when I say it’s beautiful, but some things are just better at home :) 

I heard the following song streaming through someone’s 2nd floor window on an obscure street, while walking through town around 7 am. Early rising hasn’t been the norm for me recently, but as my backache wasn’t allowing me to lie in any comfortable position, I had no choice but to get up and do something else. The spring morning is beautiful and green, the air incredibly fresh, and I thought maybe I’d go look for a coffee. Nothing was open. Not the Illy shop, or the Lavazza cafe, or even the Gelateria San-Marco whom I thought I could count on if nothing else. 

Feeling a little dejected, I thought I’d walk all over town anyways, though nothing else was likely to be open. After turning down a hidden ally, I heard some music, which sounded at first as if it might be live: some lovely soul up at dawn playing the guitar and making something rather beautiful. Having nothing better to do, I sat on the bench conveniently located right below the window, listening. The possibility of its being live was eliminated when I heard the sound of water; someone was in the shower, starting their day with this awesome music, which I listened closer to so I could try to figure out who it was later. 

My best guess was that is was David Gray. Having noted some of the key lyrics, which I looked up, it turns out it is Ben Howard, whom I have never heard of before now, but can feel thankful that although my back hurts, and I couldn’t sleep, or find a coffee…I found some new music, or least one song, that today anyways, was meant for me.

Keep your head up, keep your heart strong.

Keep your mind set, keep your hair long.

Oh darlin’ keep your head up, keep your heart strong.

Keep your mind set in your ways .

Keep your heart strong.

(Listen)

The bread is fantastic in these parts, as are the cakes, the bretzles, and other unique pudding-filled baked goods and such that one wouldn’t be able to get in the States, not to mention daily and right down the street…but sometimes, you just need a cookie. And aside from at Christmas time, when families gather to decorate small star-shaped shortbreads, this is not something easily obtained in this Swabian town, as no one seems to make or sell them anywhere near here. The closest thing I have seen to a “real” cookie, was sold at the supermarket in a stale package shipped months ago from the other side of the planet from Pepperidge Farms. 

My husband and I, who spend much of the time cooking great and successful meals together, often makes jokes at ourselves…because when it comes to making cookies, we don’t know where to find the magic. We’ve tried the following-recipes-method, and not…but our cookies usually turn out a little less than perfect. Yet, cookie-craving called this weekend…and it was time to try again. Chocolate chip was in mind, but they also don’t have those around here. Shockingly, I found a bag of M&Ms, and also bought the small packets of “vanilla-zucker”, which I can only assume might be the closest thing to the powdered form of vanilla extract a friend told me about when I said I couldn’t find it anywhere.

Back in the kitchen, we had a fun time mixing and baking in our almost Easy-Bake sized oven. I wouldn’t call the products a failure, and although tasty, they still fall short of the epitome of what a cookie should be, which leaves yet another thing we are looking forward to when returning to America, now only 3 months away. It’s funny what you come to appreciate about home once you’ve left it, and I suppose that growing list is one of the gifts about our being here. 

Surely we all have experienced, at some point or another, the surprise of walking into that store you pass by (and have ignored) almost every day, to find that it is the most wonderful place on the face of the Earth. Such was my luck yesterday, having decided for really no good reason, while I was on my way to get a few groceries at the mini-mart, to  take a peak inside the cave-like winery store just across from it. 

I suppose I never went in before now, either because a) I assumed it was through-the-roof expensive or b) for its being located across from a dumpy grocery store in an alley that has pretty much been under construction all year, making it not the nicest path to be on, let alone leave one enough room to consider entering into more of its shops. 

We were sold within a minute of walking inside the door, looking to the left at the shelves of beer, and seeing for the first time since leaving Seattle the word “Porter”, across a richly colored brown bottle. It got better when we took three more steps and on the right were caskets filled with grapeseed oil, balsamic vinegar, and olive oil to buy in bulk…and even better 5 steps in, where there was a wall covered in glass balloons filled with locally made schnapps and liqueurs, and yet even better that it was very very reasonably priced. 

What really sent it through the roof was finding at the very back, a rather attractive stone wall, which dispensed wine, ordering a bottle of the Spanish Red (for only 5 Euro) which was poured and sealed in front of my very eyes. 

We left with a bottle of rose, one of red, a peach liqueur, and some extra virgin olive oil, for 16 Euro…In America, I would spend that amount on a bottle of good Olive oil itself…Talk about a good deal. I’m so thankful we discovered this place before we’ve left! Now, if only all our friends would come over to share it all with us. :)

On a slightly different topic, the main reason we left the house in the first place this day was to get a Bratwurst from the stand that’s been sitting outside of our front door for the last two days, along with several other vendors selling things from candied almonds, to fingernail clippers, sheepskins, plastic spatulas, suspenders, wool socks, giant long underwear…

Tuebingen hosts a number of festivals all throughout the year, but this specific one only happens twice a year for two days…thus we ate hotdogs two days in a row, as did I buy candied almonds(mandeln)  yesterday, and then again today…and since it was only one Euro more, I said “I’ll take that chocolate apfel too…”

(The chocolate covered grapes were really not my fault, the lady through them in as gift.)

When we first came to Tuebingen, we were invited upstairs to attend a birthday party of one of our neighbors, where we had our first experience of the “Black Forest Cake,” which was made by our host’s mother. This was the best concoction of cherries, chocolate and cake I’ve ever had, I was left daydreaming about it for days afterwards, and drafting up excuses to go knocking upstairs in hopes of being offered some of the leftovers I imagined there were…

The way they do cake here is extraordinary. If, it happens to be involved at a party, there are many kinds rather than one big one…like the typical Safeway cake smothered in plastic-tasting frosting. Instead, there are triple-layer boysenberry cakes, cheesecakes with raspberries, apple pies… It’s heaven.

Such was my fortune to have had a birthday at the end of March, in which I got to have my very own German birthday cake, which was something like a creme-filled bunt cake with crumbly goodness on top, and was accompanied by not one, but several German birthday songs, sung by our guests whom we had invited to our flat for drinks. 

Which brings me to something else these Swabian Germans are quite good at: schnapps. In our town, we have what might be considered in America the equivalent to a liquor store, except that this one is quaint and beautiful, and sells things only made in Baden-Wurttemburg. For the party, we bought a bottle of “Kirschwasser,” which is a vodka-tasting-like liquor extracted from cherries, and a bottle of “Pomellowien,” which was my favorite: an effervescent wine made from apples. As it turns out, many people make their own schnapps here (must get that recipe), and one of our guests brought me a small bottle of his specialty. This was a rich and sweet one concocted from elderberries, anise seed and spices. 

I had pictured my birthday party to be more of a quiet affair, as we don’t have tons of friends here, but it turned out instead to be rather lively, with the people who accumulated from the dance studio, the writers group, and our neighbors. Every one brought their favorite German wine, or box of chocolates, and flowers: what a decadent week we had after!

It was a wonderful end to a day, which started with yoga, that was interrupted by a delivery of flowers sent from my family, which were followed by pancakes, and some shopping around town (specifically for some cute-but-more-importantly-comfortable sandals for our upcoming trip to Italy-mission was accomplished), a giant gelato-sundae, and a ballet class in the evening, to which I was late but it was okay because it started late. Nothing could have been more lovely, thanks to my friends and family, near and far, and my darling husband who spent the whole day playing with me (and surprising me with the very cute jeans later, that we didn’t buy while we were out :) ). 

Coffee and cosmetics anyone? With this sugar-scrub recipe, you can wake up with your coffee besides just in your cup, while putting good use to those used coffee grounds. Today I mixed up this invigorating concoction with ingredients I already had in my home.  The original recipe came from Wholeliving.com, which has great beauty and health tips, as well as great recipes.  All you need is some olive oil, sugar, and a touch of essential oil. I didn’t have vanilla extract (can’t seem to find that in Germany) or peppermint oil, so instead I went for a more spicy mixture using a cinnamon-orange essential oil I already had. I aslo happened to have a bit of orange-blossom massage oil lying around, so I substituted some of that for the olive oil. To spice it up even more, I added extra cinnamon and cloves to the mix. It’s amazing how easy it is you make your own sugar-scrubs, be creative with other ingredients such as lime and lemon juice…just add some olive oil and sugar and you can moisturize and exfoliate without having to make a trip to the Body Shop!

I wandered into the Deutsch Walgreens just after lunch time, not feeling too inspired about how to spend the afternoon, but thought perhaps buying a pair of haircutting scissors might be a fun place to start. Instead, I let myself be distracted by the Essie nail polish display, and in result spent the next half hour trying on as many colors as ten nails could hold (I would have tried more on my toes, but thought that might be pushing the lines of sampling etiquette). 

Mind you, I’m not the type that can’t make a decision, I just take me sweet time making it, even if it’s an impulsive one. (You should see me try to pick out juice at the supermarket…”Do I want Pineapple-Orange? Or Pomegranite-Grape….but Pineapple-Coconut is 39 cents cheaper….”). Thus was the case deciding which color pink (or should I get some kind of orange?) was the perfect use of my resources, and with such a wonderful collection, this decision wasn’t easy, so I decided to chose by which name a liked best, which turned out to be “Funny Face.” 

My face left the store with a smile, a new bottle of pink, and no scissors. The day seemed to be shaping up just swell, so I thought I’d help it along by trying on some shoes. Trying on new shoes is fun, even if you know you are not going to buy them…sometimes just looking at shoes makes me happy! (Last year when I was looking for some wedding shoes at Nordstrom, the few pairs I picked out to try on inspired the clerk to aslo bring out a pair of Louis Vuitton 6 inch pumps. “I thought you might like these, too” he said. “Why, sure I’ll try on those $700 shoes. Don’t mind if I do.”) 

I don’t know how it turns out that someone who’s spent half their life dancing on their toes in pointe shoes, can’t seem to walk two blocks in heels. But today, those 4 inches in the window called, even from a storefront with as terrible a title as “Jay-Z.” I approached carefully, trying to debate whether that color was rose or mauve (the latter having been the trim paint of my childhood house, and the color of the carpet in every room inside it)…I didn’t expect this to be comfortable but BAM! “These are the most comfortable…” I walked in as many circles as possible in the 10 square foot space, to determine if I could really walk in these things…”Why, yes, I think I can.”

For reasons mentioned above, I didn’t buy them right that moment, and instead told the lady who asked if “anything worked” (I hate when they do that) that I’d probably be back later with my husband. I went home, painted my nails and watched a few youtube videos on how to cut your own hair. In the end, that didn’t happen, and assuredly for the better, though I would still like to know how. And then I marched back up to the store, got the shoes, thinking, “He really won’t mind. I’ll surprise him!” The lady assured me as I left, “I’m sure your husband will love them.”

He came home in time to see me prancing about the flat in my new beauties and was just as surprised and delighted as I hoped he’d be about my new purchase. On Saturday, we went into Stuttgart for a friend’s birthday party, and I’m pleased to say…I walked all over town in my new 4 inches. :)

This week I saw Frida, a biographic film about Mexican painter Frida Kahlo, directed by Julie Taymor (who also directed the films Across the Universe, Titus, The Tempest and musicals including The Lion King). The incredible direction, cinematography, and performances by Salma Hayek and Alfred Molina make it a film much worth seeing.  

The film cleverly incorporates her paintings into her biography, which further help us understand them. Many of Kahlo’s works are self portraits, and often confront the physical and emotional pain she endured throughout her life, much of which was due to the terrible accident she was in as a teenager. Frida married famous Mexican painter and muralist, Diego Rivera, who acknowledged and encouraged her talent. 

Watch Frida movie trailer here

On a different note, I saw something else this week which I find worth watching. It is only 20 minutes long (and without commercials!), quite funny, while at the same time heart wrenching.  Watch it here. 

The coffee in Paris was fantastic everywhere we went. I’m sure that being to close to Italy, the espresso metropolis of the world, Germany must have its own fantastic-ness lurking around some corner or the other. We, however, being confined to Tuebingen, just haven’t found it yet.

The typical German coffee, in my experience, looks (and tastes) more or less like this: a small cup of tan-colored milk, a large cup of overly-foamed espresso-tinted milk, or if you really want a treat, espresso-tinted overly foamed burned milk in a glass. They prefer to give these things names like milch-kaffee, cappuccino, and latte-machiatto, but they are all essentially the same thing: a big cup of milky watered-down coffee.

Normally, when the espresso-drink making skills fail, I take the safe route in ordering a drip coffee. But, as I explained in The Drip Refill, that doesn’t exist here. Except for on the rare occasion in which we take the hour-long train ride into Stuttgart and go to Starbucks. After living in our postcard-picture town for six months, we decided it’s time to see some more of the country. And that we did, with an 8-hour train ride to Dresden, and then to Berlin.

Berlin was a dream come true, or half of it at least. It wasn’t particularly beautiful, as one might immagine a European town to be, but it was certainly a real city. Much of which reminded me of Chicago, minus the grand skyline and overweight citizens from a diet whose main staples are Dunkin Doughnuts and deep-dish pizza. By “real city,” I mean it has everything any real city should have: great bookstores and restaurants, art-museums, theatre, and most important on my list: good coffee. 

We looked up the best rated coffee-shops in advance, so as to make the most of our brief visit, but as they were miles away from our main destination (or one of them anyway…as my first main destination is always the coffee), we decided to trust that there would be something stellar on the way. I was doubtful, but sure enough, we only had to walk a block from the underground transit before seeing in bold black letters, “Estate Coffee.” I got the “I told you so” glance from my husband, which I’d prefer over his being proved wrong about leaving our fates up to the gods in this case. 

It was wonderful. Great interior, friendly and skilled baristas, carrot cake and scones, delicious paninnis, and to my great relief a menu upon which the items “milch-kaffee” and “latte-machiatto” were nowhere in sight. And more to my pleasure, in it’s place, “Americano.” It felt like home; Mischa ordered an Americano, by which his response was, “The best since Paris,” and I a caffe-latte which in all truth was still heavy on the milk, but was at least perfected by an artfully-drawn heart on top.

Since I am in fact, not in Seattle, I’ve had to restructure my standards. Taste diffrentiates by so many factors; even the scrambled eggs we eat in the morning taste different when I make them from when Mischa does. Thus, I can’t expect the coffee to taste the same everywhere, but I certainly value those who are artful about it…rather than merely serving it on the menu because people are gonna buy it anyway. 

Berlin was artful about many things: from the interior design of the chinese restaurant we ate in, to the grand Hauptbanhof (train station) that was from the future, to it’s thorough selection of art books including photography and dance in the bookstore we could have spent the whole day in.  Such things make life, cities, and one’s experiences thereof so much more enriching.