Spiel mit deinem Essen!

As (food) shopping (basically the only kind I practice) goes, Lidl (a fairly down-market grocery store chain) doesn't provide for the most satisfying experience: the place smells funny (like rotten chemicals), the food is frighteningly cheap, and though I lack a television, I'm told there are constantly stories about employee mistreatment (a la Wallmart), etc. Still, if you remember last year's Amerika-Woche (America Week - actually an anual event), you might remember how hysterical the place can be. Every week or so they have a different theme (various countries, grilling, beachtime, etc.) and temporarily sell a few related products (both food and random junk). Apparently Lidl is about to host or throw or sponsor (I'm fuzzy on the details) some sort of soccer event and thus, has all these bizarre soccer thingies. My favorite is this package of hard-boiled eggs decorated like soccer balls!
And the most disgusting offering (by far): "black, red, and yellow" (the German colors) marinated sausages for grilling (I keep telling you how much the Germans love to grill?)

Other delights include soccer ball-shaped sugar packets, sprinkles in the colors of major European soccer countries (Germany, France (star-shaped fourth of July cookies!), or Italy (aka Christmas colors)), or soccer ball chocolates that come in a little cardboard playing field with a little plastic player... like Foosball only, less functional!

And while we're talking about Lidl, I just used my last bag of marshmallows (leftover from Amerika-Woche last year) for a batch of Rice Krispy Treats (thanks to the recent acquistion of Rice Krispies and other things I can't find in the Fatherland when the 'rents were here earlier this month). Maybe it's because my German has gotten so much better, but this time I noticed the highly comical instructions for how to make s'mores (including how many centimeters to hold the marshmallow away from the heat source and a warning (Achtung!) not to let children eat the hot marshmallow before it cools for three (I think that's what they specified - I've already thrown away the bag!). Anyway, the Germans found the Rice Krispy Treats highly amusing ... if not highly delicious (but they taste like American childhood to me, so I'm happy to have them for myself!).

Do the Heirat! (und der Einbruch)

It took me a long time to come to terms with my civil ceremony marriage. I thought I was more level-headed (and so I've been told), but officially getting married months before our actual wedding (as many Germans do), felt wrong and certainly didn't match up with any of the (admittedly Hollywood-originated wedding images in my head). We were getting married for all the good old-fashioned reasons, but with my visa running out, we had to be about it. Scheduling the marriage to suit the Auslaenderbehorde (Foreigner's Bureau -- If crankier, less helpful people exist, I don't want to know about it) may not sound romantic, but I think you'll agree getting deported would have been even less so. (Full disclosure: the other option was to pretend to enroll in one of the local universities: expensive, and it's not as if I need another degree I won't use...). In the end, I've come to view getting married as a process, which whether I like it or not, is the way it is here. We did the marriage part, but haven't had the wedding yet. It still sounds funny to my American ears, but I'm no longer losing sleep (embarrassing, I know...) over how many weddings we'll need to organize on how many different continents (Allison suggested we could pen our own chick lit novel, "Never a Bridesmaid, Three Times a Bride") and exactly what each of them should mean. Anyway, the civil ceremony, conducted in the shadow of Berlin's famous TV tower was surprisingly nice for a government-mandated affair. I find it highly amusing that they pay someone to conduct these ceremonies ... sort of like religious services without god in an office setting with slightly nicer furniture and light fixtures. The godless priest/minister/rabbi also spoke crazy fast and thanks to my slightly fluttery state, I couldn't tell you what she said to to save my life, though I do remember she recited a poem that I couldn't understand. I have to add that it seems on the cruel and unusual side to have to sign documents written in a foreign language during your the ceremony. I've possibly sold myself into white slavery...I really don't know. I do, however, have relatively full recall of the after-picnic (I'm always tuned into what matters): we retired to the closest green spot, a churchyard across the street where we drank delicious sparkling Riesling alongside a selection of fairly ugly sample gravestones, and enjoyed a few nibbles snagged during a marathon Saturday market session -- pictured here (and look, I got a nephew - the kid picnics with the best of them) and the perfect spring weather. In the evening, we had a little family and witnesses (unflowery German version of maid of honor/best man) gathering at home ... cold side of salmon and grilled spice-rubbed pork loin with tzatziki sauce, arugula salad with grilled marinated mushrooms and shaved Parmesan, asparagus vinaigrette, potato salad with herbed homemade lemon mayo, rolls, and strawberry shortcake. All's well that ends well, but let's just say this was good reminder that catering your own party is not the same as catering someone else's party ...

If Tuesday was the high point of the week, Friday might have been the low. I returned home to find bash marks on our front door and that the key no longer worked. I called mein Mann (formerly known as mein Freund) who ran home, and the neighbor helped us bash in he door (which hadn't really been locked, but slammed extra hard). Who knows what the perpetrator thought when s/he burst into our studio apartment adorned with at least seven bouquets of flowers (the Germans are into flowers and we were given a lot this week), but s/he took a fancy to my relatively new laptop (though not to my passport or (new, borrowed, and old) civil ceremony jewels, which were lying in plain sight) (or to the fridge full of tasty civil ceremony party leftovers). I was going to take a picture of my bashed in door, but then I realized my camera was missing. Hmmmm. The camera was so prone to bouts of nonfunctioning, I *almost* pity whoever ends up with it.

Heitraten: Kein Witz

I wasn't sure whether or not to write about this whole wedding/marriage thing here, it can get a little "fluffy" (for lack of a better word), but there are just to many oddities in the process here, I can't keep it all to myself. Up to now, I have had to swear twice (first, way across town at the US consulate to the tune of $30) that I am not currently married (the consulate gave me a certificate and threw in the fact that I'm not a member of the armed services, which is true, but I didn't swear it like they say I did). Despite demanding this certificate (charmingly titled, the Certificate of Eligibility, which sounds like it should list how many camels I'm worth, no?) the German Standesamt or Bureau of Status made me re-swear it (mein Freund didn't have to swear even once....). We also had to attest to the fact that we are not each other's parents or (half-)siblings, though the Official commented that seeing as how we are from different countries, this was unlikely (???). Anyway, my favorite part of the Standesamt is the xeroxed article they have posted on the wall, telling of an Austrian (same-same, but different) civil ceremony in which the bride jokingly answered no when asked if she took this man...The ceremony was therefore postponed for 10 days! At the bottom of the sign is noted: "This applies to Germany too!"
As a foreigner, my documents had to undergo a special inspection, which the efficient Germans completed in less than half the time promised (got to give credit where credit's due). It's hard to believe, but either they missed the teeney discrepancy in my birth certificate (long boring story) or didn't care. In sum, after all the swearings and paying of various fees based on my lack of official income, and being inspected, we have now been cleared to wed by the German government (only the official ceremony, the real fun comes later)...assuming we can both keep a straight face.

Kühlschrankausputzen

Apologies to my few loyal readers for the little pause here. Much has happened, but not not all of life lends itself to blogging. In any case, here and now for your viewing pleasure...

A friend left a bottle of elderberry syrup at my apartment after our last party and while it is delicious splashed into sparkling wine (Sekt as they say in these parts) and I do plan to drastically up my consumption of such beverages in the coming year and a half or so (it's my duty being recently engaged and all (or verlobt as they say in these parts)(serious apologies if I should have told you in person or personally via email -- I have been far away from Miss Manners (and probably you) for a while now)), I must admit that I prefer my Sekt/Cava/Champagne (call it what you will) straight up. I made a half-hearted effort to return the bottle of syrup to its owner, but she politely refused. To make long story short, the syrup (diluted ever so slightly) joined up with some leftover agar agar to became these pretty (if a bit toothy (I'm still figuring out the proper agar agar to liquid ratio) gelees.

And! The first rhubarb of the season: getting reading to be cooked into compote (a requisite springtime granola accompaniment).

Eine Rose mit eine andere Füllung

Some of you may recall the Great Poppyseed Hamantaschen Craving of 2005-6. Those were dark days: Barcelona while culinarily plentiful in many ways, is severely lacking in the poppyseed department). Poppyseeds and especially poppyseed-filled desserts are easily found अरेin the Vaterland (though I've yet to find a match for the Eastern Market bakery poppyseed hamantaschen (with just a hint of almond extract in the crust) -- alas the market burned down a year or two ago!) Anyway, with Purim taking place this week, I had hamantaschen on the brain and was really excited to spy these cookies in a bakery in Essen last weekend. They looked exactly like my beloved hamantaschen, but I couldn't be sure of the filling? Prune or Poppyseed?! They turned out to be filled with a date-marzipan mixture, which although delicious, is no match for the concentrated nutty poppyseediness of poppyseed filling (to be honest, the crust in this cookie is just a vehicle for the filling). Despite Hamantaschen's German name (meaning Haman's pockets), these were labeled as Kapuziner as in the Capuchin order of monks (and nuns, I think???) just like cappuccino, both so named for their supposed similiarity in shape to the Capuchin monk's hoods. Wikipedia says that the name Hamantaschen is popularly believed to be "a reference to Haman ... the villain of Purim, as described in the Book of Esther. A more likely source of the name is a corruption of the Yiddish word מאן־טאשן (montashn) or the German word mohntaschen, both meaning poppyseed-filled pouches. Over time, this name was transformed to hamantashen, likely by association with Haman." In any case, if you want to be cool, and you can limit yourself to a single cookie, you should refer to it as a hamantasch (the hamantaschen is plural)...just in case you are celebrating Purim with some German grammar fanatics.

Der Frühjahrsputz: Löffeltrüffel

My third attempt to find Berlin's food-obsessed side by inviting the city into my apartment took place last Saturday. I must admit to a bit of (continued) frustration with these events, with this city...I know my interest in food is extreme and don't expect everyone on the planet to share it, but when you have parties that are blatantly all about the food, it's somewhat discouraging when the majority of party-goers aren't really there for the food (or maybe they are and I'm confused/a snob). I've felt the frustration in other cities before, but I find fewer outlets for my obsession (passion is a nicer word, no?) here. Still, GrubBerlin is new and has already opened some interesting doors leading to some remarkable people. It has also been a place for me to try out recipes and a good excuse to make things that require something of an occasion/crowd (last time's cocktail tamales, zum Beispiel). In any case, this weekend's crowd was slightly smaller than usual(not entirely a bad thing in terms of elbow room or my ability to talk to everyone) due (at least partially) to a quaint Euro-style transit strike we're experiencing. Our theme was "Spring Cleaning," with the idea that
we cook based on what's in our cupboard...Lucky girl that I am, I received a little envelope of vanilla salt (as in salt with vanilla bean seeds) for mein Geburtstag. I really wanted to make ceviche, but as Berlin isn't exactly the shellfish capital of the world, I settled on chocolate caramel truffles with vanilla salt (based on this recipe from Bon Appetit. I must say they were quite tasty, but I cooked the caramel for about ever and even after a good while in the shoe box that is my freezer, couldn't get it firm enough to form balls. I could have resolved this dilemma with lots of glamour if I had a collection of about 50 pretty silver coffee spoons. Alas, I do not, and after throwing a nice little kitchen fit, which mein Freund has mostly learned to ignore, made chocolate caramel spoon truffles with vanilla salt....which worked perfectly fine. Now, what to do with my remaining vanilla salt....should I rework the truffles because they were really so yummy or make something else exciting?! Ideas please!

Einjähriger mit Pumpernickel

It's hard for me to believe it, but today is the one-year anniversary of my relocation to Germany. I certainly never imagined that I'd be living the life I'm living (in Germany of all places!). I could go on about the things I can do now, have seen over the past year, have adjusted to, have still not adjusted to, etc., but I'll just summarize by saying that mein Deutsch has grown from about 50 words (we counted (and most of them also exist in English)) to more than I can can count (especially if you include the words I can understand, but can't remember when I need to say them). I have developed a particularly good food vocabulary (seriously, I sometimes have to translate the menu for mein Freund) and a pretty good map of which "exotic" ingredients can be bought at which random stores...but many things still puzzle me. For example, this package of pumpernickel bread. There is plenty of good bread here, so I don't entirely get these little packages, which last for months, but I do generally understand the idea behind the use of sex in advertising. Only, I've mostly seen it used on/for products that are associated (logically or not) with sexiness: cigarettes, chocolate, perfume....I don't understand the connection to pumpernickel bread at all. Anyway, I guess the fact that I don't even begin to understand the logic behind this packaging is proof that there are still many things I don't understand about the Vaterland....