The first morning after we arrived, we ventured out into the German unknown and tried to buy ourselves some groceries. Some items inevitably were easier to identify than others. Bananas looked the same, so we picked up some of those. Grapes too. (That's a lie, the grapes are smaller and sweeter.) Off to the dairy aisle. Oh my God, they love their dairy. Yogurts, quark, creme fraiche, cream cheese, all sorts of other cheese, but no cream for my coffee. Shit, I'm lying again. There is cream, it's whipping cream. Like we're supposed to be smart enough to know that if you want less than 35% milk fat we should just mix in some milk. I'm not smart enough, so I buy evaporated milk, which is the norm. Tangent. Right, cherry tarts.
Off to the butter. So pretty, so many to choose from. "What the fuck is PIG BUTTER????" Gag. "Oh, it's lard. Okay then." I understand lard. Use it to fry your chicken or make your pie crusts extra tender. Right? Wrong!!
I decided today that I would do Babica proud and make the cherry tarts that sustained me through my childhood. So I went to buy that lard to make my pastry. Pastry terrifies me, by the way, so please be proud of me for even attempting to do this. So I bring the lard to "our" cashier, the one who speaks English, and she says "This is not butter." I explain that I know that it's lard and I'm going to make tart crusts with it. The customer behind me says, "No you only use this to fry stuff with." I say that at home you can use lard also for pastry. Because I am like some kind of cultural ambassador from Canada. That's when the cashier, our cashier, stands up, goes to the dairy aisle and grabs me some butter. "Maybe they do that in other countries, but we don't do that here."
Here's a picture of my finished cherry tart. With butter pastry crust. Cause that's how we roll here.
Post-Script*
On the phone with Babcia the other night she told me that it would make her very happy if I lost some (or 20) pounds by the time she sees me at Christmas. At this rate, I don't think it's going to happen.
Off to the butter. So pretty, so many to choose from. "What the fuck is PIG BUTTER????" Gag. "Oh, it's lard. Okay then." I understand lard. Use it to fry your chicken or make your pie crusts extra tender. Right? Wrong!!
I decided today that I would do Babica proud and make the cherry tarts that sustained me through my childhood. So I went to buy that lard to make my pastry. Pastry terrifies me, by the way, so please be proud of me for even attempting to do this. So I bring the lard to "our" cashier, the one who speaks English, and she says "This is not butter." I explain that I know that it's lard and I'm going to make tart crusts with it. The customer behind me says, "No you only use this to fry stuff with." I say that at home you can use lard also for pastry. Because I am like some kind of cultural ambassador from Canada. That's when the cashier, our cashier, stands up, goes to the dairy aisle and grabs me some butter. "Maybe they do that in other countries, but we don't do that here."
Here's a picture of my finished cherry tart. With butter pastry crust. Cause that's how we roll here.
Post-Script*
On the phone with Babcia the other night she told me that it would make her very happy if I lost some (or 20) pounds by the time she sees me at Christmas. At this rate, I don't think it's going to happen.
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