Wannsee ahoi

I'm so sorry about my recent absence on this blog but to be honest, I've found it a little hard getting back into a regular rhythm again after so long away from work and this may come as a shocking revelation to you but: I haven't been cooking so much. Of course, I still make things but it's often simple and when the light's no good for photographs. I also missed another Daring Bakers' Challenge and promise to do better with that for the rest of the year.

These past few weeks, Berlin has been cold and I don't just mean that you need to wear a hat and gloves. There's the kind of cold wind that blows against your face and makes you feel someone's cutting into your cheeks with a knife. Your hands get numb the second you take off your gloves. The streets have become like an ice skating rink and even though I've now invested in a pair of boots that keep my feet dry, it's not so easy to go for long walks in and around Berlin. Ten days ago though, I decided to brave the arctic conditions and head for Wannsee, the large lake in the west which Kitty Hoff charmingly compares to the sea for Berliners. In summer, it's packed with bathers but I've always preferred its melancholy desertedness out of season. The ferries which carry passengers across to places like the Peacock Island stand empty and stranded on the edge of the white shore. Setting off alone, I looked across to see two figures walking alone into the distance on the ice, so fragile with only a layer of frozen water to support them and the endless winter landscape before them. I wondered if they felt alone or liberated to leave the stress of city life behind for a few moments. I've always been afraid of walking on the ice myself, especially after seeing part 1 of Kieslowski's Dekalog but I would love to travel to the Baltic Sea in winter with a strong breeze, the cries of the seasgulls flying overhead and the restless breaking of waves which carry my thoughts further and further away.

For walking, perhaps Wannsee isn't the best because most of the shore is occupied by boat clubs and villas and by the time I had been walking for a couple of hours, the damp cold seemed to have gotten inside my skin and I perhaps felt colder than ever. Luckily, one of the loveliest places to go is the Liebermann villa where the Berlin artist Max Liebermann used to spend his summer holidays. As I pushed open the door to go inside, I found a girl reading in front of a roaring fire and sat next to her in one of the large armchairs with only the sound of the crackling logs as I closed my eyes and felt the warmth returning and thought of Jane Austen's characters coming in after their carriage rides on a frosty day. I had already heard about the charming café there and I wasn't disappointed. I ordered a hot chocolate with cream and was asked to choose from a stand with little blocks of all kinds of solid chocolate which you then whisk yourself into a steaming glass of hot milk. On such a biting cold day, I felt I really needed dark chocolate with chilli and was also given a small dish with a large amount of fresh, whipped cream to spoon on top. I would have preferred a large slice of warm apple pie for the ultimate comfort food experience but settled for a piece of poppyseed cake with cream. The large bay windows of wood panelled room with its green walls look out onto the garden by the lakeshore. Afterwards, I walked across the deep snow with no other footprints but mine. On the lakeshore, I could hear the laughter of families iceskating and playing games and watched a boat slide whizz by at regular intervals. I would love to return there when the spring colours have started to appear and there are the gentle sunrays glittering on the water.

Returning home, I found it hard to get warm again and settled down on the sofa with a good book and some cinnamon spice tea. The long winter evenings are truly the best time to read. Before going to sleep at night, I take Willy Ronis' Ce Jour-là, brought back from Rennes, a charming book in which he describes what inspired him and the story behnd some of his photos. Ronis' photography has always enchanted me with his timeless pictures of another time and his romantic visions of Paris.

The Zupfkuchen I remade for a film evening last weekend (recipe here)

Winter is also the best time for soup and I decided to try my first recipe from the new favourite cookbook, Nigel Slater's Kitchen Diaries which I found in my favourite remained bookshop in London. Nigel is officially my new guru; I know that Abbie is already a huge fan and I remember the amazing fish recipe of his she used at one of the lovely evenings in her apartment in Friedrichshain. The Kitchen Diaries is such a pleasure to read, as well as to bake from. It's basically a year's enjoyment of food and flavours throughout the different seasons and I think it's a book I'm going to return to again and again this year. This soup is so easy to make and even if it's not one of my most photogenic creations, it was certainly one the tastiest. Another key advantage is that you don't have the chop the onions, just cut them in half so you don't need to shed a single tear!

French Onion Soup from Nigel Slater's Kitchen Diaries

Serves 4

About 8 medium sized onions

3 tbsp butter

Some salt and pepper to season

1 glass dry white wine

6 cups vegetable stock

1. Peel the onions and slice them in half. Place them in a roasting tin with the butter and some salt and pepper. Cook at 180°C until soft and golden (you may need to turn them regularly to stop them burning).

2. When they're done, remove from the oven and cut them into large segments. Bring them to the boil in a large saucepan with the wine until the wine has almost evaporated then pour in the vegetable stock and bring the boil again. Leave to simmer for about 20 minutes then serve with fresh, crusty bread and some cheese if you like.

Heimweh nach dem Kurfürstendamm

My return to Berlin has in many ways seemed like a strange and beautiful dream. The masses of snow, rediscovering my room with its piles of books, coming home every day with wet feet because of my hopelessly inadequate boots but having the comforts of cheese on toast, large mugs of cocoa or tea and settling down with a Woody Allen film or getting around to the book someone gave me for my birthday last year. It's almost as if I was never away at all and yet I feel I love the city more than ever. Before my trip to Paris, I was afraid that I wouldn't want to come back here because it would seem cold and ugly in comparison. But although I still love Paris, it was hard to describe the emotion of getting into the TGV headed for Frankfurt and hearing the announcements in German once more or changing in snowy Mannheim to the familiar high speed ICE trains. Just little things but they gave me the impression I was getting closer to home. There's something inside of me that clicks with the imperfection and the solitude of Berlin. Reading Caroline's wonderful post the other day made me realise how much this city is part of me, how much I need it.

Late breakfasts at the weekend

Last Sunday, I set out to explore the snow in Tiergarten. Early in the morning, there was still a grey mistiness hanging over the trees, the heels of my boots sunk a little into the solid white ground with each step and I met only occasional joggers and dog walkers on my long walk through this special place filled with so many memories. I had never seen so much snow in Berlin before and it reinforced the silence and magic of it. Later on, there were children being pulled along on sledges and cross country skiers keen to take advantage of the winter landscapes while they last.

Later on, I decided to walk back all the way to Charlottenburg along the Kurfürstendamm, the rough equivalent of Oxford Street, although it's no longer as important as it was in divided Germany when it was realy the centre of West Berlin. The title of this post refers to a famous song by Hildegaard Knef and can be translated as "I'm homesick for the Kurfürstendamm" or Ku'damm as everyone calls it. I've always had a special affection for it, even if most of my friends can't understand why. I remember going to a vernissage with Justine at the Maison de France. The organiser described Ku'damm as the Champs Elysees of Berlin and outside passers by stopped to look in at us through the large glowing windows like those of an aquarium which made me think of the restaurant in Balbec in Proust. Afterwards we went to the most adorable little pizzeria in Uhlandstraße where you sit on wooden benches and they announce when your order is ready over loudspeakers in Italian. Coming out into the cold, we looked up at the beautiful buildings opposite with their iron balconies and strolled back to Savignyplatz past the nocturnal displays in the chic, deserted boutiques.

There is still so much I want to discover here and maybe the optimism I'm feeling right now is just that "fresh, new year's effect" which will melt away with the snow but I know that even though it's good to go away, the best part is when you come home.

Before I give you my late recipe for Christmas cake, I know that many of you will be sick to death of Christmas, overeating and seriously rich food. It also seems terrible to think of the festive period after seeing all the heartbreaking images from Haiti. All I can say is that nothing really seems that important anymore in comparison. The only appropriate thing to do is to give a donation and most of all not forget.

Christmas cake (makes a 110g cake) - from Nigella Lawson's How to be a Domestic Goddess

350g sultanas

110g raisons

50g glacé cherries

60ml brandy

110g butter

90g brown sugar

2/3 tsp lemon zest

1tbsp marmelade

2 large eggs

250g plain flour

1 tsp mixed spice

pinch of salt

Fits an 18cm round tin.

1. Place all fruit in a large bowl and pour in the brandy. Cover and leave to soak overnight.

2. Pre-heat the oven to 150 °C. Line the baking tin with a double layer of baking paper - it should reach about 10cm above the edge of the tin.

3. Cream the butter and sugar, then add the lemon zest.

4. Add in the eggs, then the marmelade, beating well.

5. Sift the dry ingredients into a bowl then add them alternately with the brandy soaked fruit.

6. Pour the mixture into the tin and bake for about 2-2.5 hours or until a cake tester comes out clean.

7. When the cake is cool, brush with brandy and wrap in extra thick tinfoil so it stays moist. When it's 100% cool, remove the foil, remove the cake from the tin, re-wrap it in foil and store in an airtight container for at least 4 weeks before you plan to eat it. I like to pour over some extra brandy every couple of weeks to make sure the cake doesn't dry out.

To decorate

1 large block of marzipan - about 500g (preferably white, but they'd sold out when I went to buy some which explains the yellow snowman, and from an organic shop so it's free of E-numbers!)

300-400g icing sugar

3-4 lemons

1. Dust your work surface with icing sugar and roll out the marzipan so it will fit the cake but still be a good, thick layer. Brush the cake with a little warmed jam to make it stick and gently place the marzipan over the top and sides of the cake.

2. Sift the icing sugar or put it in a mixer to get rid of the lumps. Add in as much lemon juice as you like to get your desired consistency - I like my icing a little bit runny. Carefully smooth it over the marzipan using a palette knife. Leave to set for a few hours before placing any other decorations on top.

My marzipan birds - I can be artistic too sometimes.

Holly from our garden for a finishing touch!

The trifle recipe is the same as the one I posted here, expect that instead of panettone, I used trifle sponges for a more English touch.

Les dernières nuits de Paris

Travelling by train always makes you feel you're leaving a place much more intensely than by plane when the landscapes disappear under a layer of cloud. It had been years since I'd last taken the Eurostar from London to Paris, passing by the oast houses of Kent and the breathtaking landscapes of southern England. While other passengers were slumbering, I felt the last rays of sun pouring onto my face until it finally started to set and the sky was cracked with the most intense scarlet. Gazing out of the window, lost in thought, I remember before I lived in France how melancholic the sight of cars on the roads used to make me because all of these people lived in France and I didn't.

When I arrived in Paris, it was already dark and the old, familiar platforms of the Gare du Nord were waiting for me. Being a book lover has it's good points but it also means that you're constantly weighed down by luggage, so you can imagine my case stuffed full of Christmas presents and how heavy it was. After hauling it up and down the steps of the métro and along narrow streets cursing loudly and wishing my hobby was stamp collecting, I finally opened the door to Ju's charming little apartment in Montparnasse, an old artist's studio with enormous windows, caressed by the beams of the Eiffel Tower as soon as darkness falls.

But Paris would still have to wait a little longer until I had returned from Rouen, the home of .....Rose. As the train was pulling out of the Gare St. Lazare early the morning, there was still a half-moon visible in the sky and at the same time, the clearest, most beautiful day was beginning. The windows of the buildings we passed shone with a pinkish, golden light and little by little, the sky became a dazzling mix of gold, cream, grey and blue. The journey was so beautiful, yet I tapped my feet with impatience to reach my destination. Rose was waiting for me at the station, my guide through the winding streets with their half-timbered houses in this wonderful place. The day was bright, but cold, we stopped to warm our hands with a hot chocolate in a café where Simone de Beauvoir used to go when she was a teacher in Rouen.

The garden of the musée Flaubert

Simone's café as mentioned in La force de l'âge

The name 'Rose' makes me think of the ageless beauty in Aragon's Aurélien or the capricious but charming sister of the heroine in Dodie Smith's I Capture the Castle but nothing can match the real one. She talks of books like old friends, shares my passion for the works of Boris Vian, makes me want to lose myself in Greek myths and discover the early writings of Raymond Queneau and can show you the most wonderful bookshops where you can buy second hand editions of Tokyo Sanpo at a bagain price. Then there was the most amazing lunch at a Korean restaurant and talk of trips to Italyand Germany, learning Asian languages and of course, books!

The école de beaux arts, located in a former mass grave.

Some of the wonderful, old houses in Rouen

Later on. we climbed higher and higher up the steep slopes above Rouen to reach the cemetary where the the sunlight still warmed us with its rays and the tombstones were covered with the remains of the last snowfall. Cats scuttled in between narrow alleys as we searched for the graves of Flaubert and Duchamp.

The family Duchamp's grave. The inscription reads "In any case, it's always the others who die."

The flowers reminded us of the waterlily in Boris Vian's L'écume des jours"

That same evening, in the charming house high above the city, Rose made us a wonderful fennel gratin and to finish the most beautiful cake with pralines roses. There was also the music of Satie, the voice of Juliette, frequent glasses of delicious wine and my first ever Neufchâtel cheese. I slept in her study, full of books which reminded me how little I've read but which also seemed to watch over me like Rilke's angels. The next morning, I opened the shutters to discover that the deepest layer of snow had transformed everything completely and as we said our farewells at the station, thick flakes were still falling. I wished I could stayed a little longer in her street which seemed so English, where cats curl up beside you and where you can flick endlessly through all the books you've always dreamed of with the distant sound of a piano playing in the background.

Luckily there is also another place where you can find a different study piled high with books, where you arrive to find a magnificent goûter of perfect chocolate and chestnut tartelettes accompanied by a comforting pot of exquisite tea by Mariage Frères. This place is, of course, called Patoumiville, or just Rennes for those who have yet to discover her beautiful blog. As we sat in the lovely, luminous apartment whose walls are covered with pictures of writers, film posters and scenes from Annie Hall and Rohmer films, the only sound was that of the spoon clinking against the beautiful cups and plates as we talked about all the things we have in common. Later that evening, we ventured out into the cold to walk the short distance to the Japanese restaurant where you can order a tartatre du thon which melts in your mouth and to finish, exquisite Daifuku with vanilla ice cream which made me want to consult Julia's blog and make my own soon.

The tartare au thon

Perfect daifuku

The next morning, I awoke to find the most amazing breakfast laid out on the table; white bread from the boulangerie Cozic, a huge jar of chocolate spread sent by Mingou, blackcurrant jam, tome cheese and a large pot of green tea.

To work off some of the calories, we set out to explore Rennes on a crisp and golden morning, wandering through the snowy, deserted park where a man was taking pictures of squirrels, pausing at Patoumi's favourite bookshops before we finally stopped for a delicious vegetable tart in a café where you can not only choose from an astonishing range of teas with exotic names like gin fizz and sous la véranda but also choose from a list of desserts which all look equally delicious. Crumble with crème anglaise, coffee and walnut cake and so many more but we both decided on the rich English cake which managed to be both rich and light. The hours slipped by too fast and then it was already the moment to take the train back to Paris where I left with a goûter of croissants, oranges and macaroons. There was a dreadful feeling of sadness as I saw her beautiful boots and Madame Mo bag for the last time and darkness began to fall around us in the TGV.

And Paris? It's so difficult for me to sum up the last few days and the whirlwind of impressions I had. There were the walks in the Luxemburg where children were having snowball fights under the marble gaze of the statues of kings and queens, the frustration at not being able to visit all the wonderful cemetaries whose gates remained closed for days with the snow when they would have looked so beautiful, the galette by the Odéon that Patoumi had recommended, the walks in the footsteps of Simone de Beauvoir on the left bank and the visits to all the amazing bookshops.

Deserted alleys of the Luxemburg gardens

The statue of Bacchus with the Panthéon

Anyone for tea?

A sheep lamp in the streets near the Odéon

Evening in Paris

As close as I could get to a cemetary from the footbridge in Montmartre

View across to the islands

Salon des antiquitaires close to the Champs de mars

La Rotonde in Montparnasse which Simone de Beauvoir's family lived above for a while

There was also a chance to meet Julia at l'Entrepôt and consume plates piled high with the most delicious food, discussing Sweden, Wild Strawberries, life in Berlin and Paris, photography and so much more.

Some pastries at l'entrepôt

Travelling back to Berlin where the whitest, most magical landscapes unfolded before my eyes and delicate, little flakes were falling, it felt good to be going home but there was also disappointment at not being able to meet you all; Mingou, Pia, Sarah Lou, Gracienne, Sarah and so many others. I guess though that will have to wait until next time...

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, plus the Daring Bakers

Although the snow has almost melted, there is still so much about the festive season to savour. The days blend into one another and I sleep longer in the mornings, often forgetting if it's the weekend or not it is. The time is going fast though and unbelievably, this is already my last week in Derbyshire. My normal life in Berlin seems so far away which can make it hard to return. When I think back to the past few days since London, it's not so easy to remember exactly what I've done. The icy road conditions meant I had to abandon my plans to visit places and spend the days at home instead which I actually didn't mind. There was plenty of baking to do - mince pies, a trifle, a Christmas cake among other things (I'll post the recipes for the last two sometime next week) and in the evenings, we sat around the fire reading aloud to each other from Pepys' diary, Saki's stories, Alice in Wonderland, P.G Woodehouse followed by some poems and afterwards watched films like Charade, It's a Wonderful Life, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, How to Marry a Millionaire and Gigi.

A snowy Rudolph

I've settled back into my old room where everything is almost as I left it five years ago - the same movie posters, the postcards by artists stuck around the mirror, the piles of French classics - yet I relate to them differently now and feel it's more a reminder of who I used to be. But then there's something about Christmas that brings back the excitement of childhood. I can't resist watching the Snowman every Christmas Eve and then listening to Carols from Kings while I make mince pies which my Dad always comes in to sample as soon as the first batch is ready. Christmas Day morning always seems so fresh and exhilerating and I rush downstairs to admire the huge pile of presents I can't wait to exchange. More than just opening my own, I love to see other people's face as they tear open the paper impatiently. Afterwards, there's the preparations for the Christmas meal and the non-stop eating for the rest of the day. As a child, I was always sad after the two Christmas days were over and found the time up to New Year a little depressing and empty but now I love having some quiet moments to reflect on the past year and on the new decade to come.

A Christmas meal at a local restaurant called the Dog - I chose Stilton and Broccoli soup, served with baguette and melted cheese

Of course, I also couldn't forget the Daring Bakers' challenge which I completed more than a month ago because otherwise, I knew I'd never have enough time. When I saw it was a gingerbread house, I felt incredibly excited, thinking back to the one Hansel and Gretel which enchanted me so much growing up, but also a little intimidated because the idea of designing, assembling and decorating one seemed beyond me. As usual, I threw myself into the challenge and tried to be creative. Actually, it wasn't as tricky as I'd feared, although getting the different pieces to stick together was far from simple and the icing glue was a bit runny for decorating. When I'd finished though, I felt proud of my first attempt and found my house quite charming, even if it wasn't perfect. So if you're feeling brave, why not try it?

This month's Daring Bakers' challenge was chosen by Anna of Very Small Anna and Y of Lemonpi. I decided to use Anna's recipe from Good Housekeeping which produced incredibly tasty gingerbread.



Gingerbread house

Equipment Needed:
Stand or handheld electric mixer (not required but it will make mixing the dough a lot easier and faster)
Plastic wrap
Rolling pin
Parchment paper
Baking sheets
Cardboard cake board or sheet of thick cardboard
Foil, if desired
Small saucepan
Small pastry brush (optional)
Piping bag with small round tip, or paper cornets if you're comfortable with them

Anna's Recipe:
Spicy Gingerbread Dough (from Good Housekeeping) http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/recipefinder/spicy-gingerbread-dough-157...

2 1/2 cups (500g) packed dark brown sugar
1 1/2 cups (360mL) heavy cream or whipping cream
1 1/4 cups (425g) molasses
9 1/2 cups (1663g) all-purpose flour
2 tablespoon(s) baking soda
1 tablespoon(s) ground ginger

Directions

1. In very large bowl, with wire whisk (or with an electric mixer), beat brown sugar, cream, and molasses until sugar lumps dissolve and mixture is smooth. In medium bowl, combine flour, baking soda, and ginger. With spoon, stir flour mixture into cream mixture in 3 additions until dough is too stiff to stir, then knead with hands until flour is incorporated and dough is smooth.

2. Divide dough into 4 equal portions; flatten each into a disk to speed chilling. Wrap each disk well with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 4 hours or overnight, until dough is firm enough to roll.

3. Grease and flour large cookie sheets (17-inch by 14-inch/43x36cm)

4. Roll out dough, 1 disk at a time on each cookie sheet to about 3/16-inch thickness. (Placing 3/16-inch dowels or rulers on either side of dough to use as a guide will help roll dough to uniform thickness.)

5. Trim excess dough from cookie sheet; wrap and reserve in refrigerator. Chill rolled dough on cookie sheet in refrigerator or freezer at least 10 minutes or until firm enough to cut easily.

6. Preheat oven to 300 degrees F (149C)

7. Use chilled rolled dough, floured poster board patterns, and sharp paring knife to cut all house pieces on cookie sheet, making sure to leave at least 1 1/4 inches between pieces because dough will expand slightly during baking. Wrap and reserve trimmings in refrigerator. Combine and use trimmings as necessary to complete house and other decorative pieces. Cut and bake large pieces and small pieces separately.

8. Chill for 10 minutes before baking if the dough seems really soft after you cut it. This will discourage too much spreading/warping of the shapes you cut.

9. Bake 25 to 30 minutes, until pieces are firm to the touch. Do not overbake; pieces will be too crisp to trim to proper size.

10. Remove cookie sheet from oven. While house pieces are still warm, place poster-board patterns on top and use them as guides to trim shapes to match if necessary. Cool pieces completely before attempting to assemble the house.

I found it tricky to keep the house together and stop it falling apart so tied ribbon around it and propped it up with some tins until the next morning when it could stand alone.

Royal Icing:

1 large egg white
3 cups (330g) powdered sugar
1 teaspoon white vinegar
1 teaspoon almond extract

Beat all ingredients until smooth, adding the powdered sugar gradually to get the desired consistency. Pipe on pieces and allow to dry before assembling. If you aren't using it all at once you can keep it in a small bowl, loosely covered with a damp towel for a few hours until ready to use. You may have to beat it slightly to get it an even consistency if the top sets up a bit. Piped on the house, this will set up hard over time.

Simple Syrup:
2 cups (400g) sugar

Place in a small saucepan and heat until just boiling and the sugar dissolves. Dredge or brush the edges of the pieces to glue them together. If the syrup crystallizes, remake it.

Here's the link to the template I used:

http://www.gingerbread-house-heaven.com/support-files/free-gingerbread-house-pattern.pdf


Thanks to Anna and Y for selecting such a lovely recipe and happy holidays to you all!

The dust of snow

I was already awake before the alarm went off and outside there was still the coldness of the night. I made myself some tea and tried to eat something but my mind was busy with the anticipation of the long journey ahead of me and I felt unable to concentrate. Holidays have always seemed more exciting when you begin so early in the silence of those twilight hours. As I pulled my case through the deserted streets, I looked around one last time at the familiar places which I would not see again this year. Above, there were still some stars twinkling brightly and the thinnest sliver of the moon. On the train, other passengers snuggled up in their coats and sweaters and slept or flicked through newspapers. My eyes tried to become adjusted to the pitch black landscapes whizzing by outside and I wrote letters to friends. Little by little as day began to break, the countryside around became white and I was mesmerised by the tiny flakes falling constantly from the sky which became thicker the further South we went. It was a route I've travelled many times and which I've talked about before; I saw the places between Jena and Nuremburg thick with snow, including the graveyard I always looked out for and imagined how magical it would be to explore the silence of the deep, dark woods or go sledge-riding.

The flight from Munich to Birmingham was one of the loveliest I've ever been on. When we took off, there was a stunning patchwork of white fields beneath us and above the clouds, it felt so good to see the sun again and catch its dying rays in an unending sunset with green, orange and purple stripes on the distant horizon.

And then there were the days London. That first day spent wandering through the parks where big grey squirrels chased each other around the flower beds and later in the British Museum where I thought of Rose's beautiful story which made me want to rediscover Greek culture and the ruins of their lost civilisation.

Blossom in December

When night fell, the windows of the beautiful eighteenth century Georgian houses glowed with light and their Christmas trees decorated with red and gold.

Lemon cheesecake in its "jewel box."

Christmas decorations on the South Bank.

A visit to the National Gallery shop after looking at the paintings to find the most beautiful tree decorations.

Self-portrait on a bitterly cold winter's day.

The rest of my time was mostly spent in museums, theatres, cafes, browsing endlessly in favourite bookshops and of course, eating! . There was the cheesecake and coffee in Pret, the beetroot cake at the Royal Academy, the Japanese pastries with red azuki beans on Piccadilly, the visit to the foodhall of Fortnum and Mason but most of all, the macaroons fron Ladurée which I've been badly missing since they left Galeries Lafeyette in Berlin. Entering the shop with its golden walls and pyramids of macaroons, you know something amazing is waiting for you. Every one is a miniature masterpiece and the way they melt in your mouth makes you feel you've gone to heaven.

The days were cold and clear but with enough sunshine to warm your face. Heavy snow was forecast for Thursday so I spent most of the evning in our chilly hotel looking out of the window hopefully, drinking tea and reading I Capture the Castle, a book I've fallen totally in love with. Sadly only the tiniest amount fell and the streets were their usual grey when I awoke the next day.

The statue of Sir Joshua Reynolds with the Anish Kapoor exhibit in the courtyard of the Royal Academy.

The unusual, and tasty beetroot cake

A perfect raspberry macaroon (my fingers were suffering a bit with the cold here).

My selection from Ladurée

Fortnum and Mason

Oranges studded with cloves and some baguettes in Fortnum and Mason.

The last morning, we decided to skip breakfast at the hotel and go for brunch at Carluccio's, an amazing Italian cafe close to Russell Square. Just outside were many stalls selling food from all over the world; Mont d'Or cheeses and bread from France, baklavas, Portuguese pastries and custards, jewelled cupcakes, Korean dumplings; everything looked absolutely delicious in the glimmer of the morning sun. It was then that I regretted not being able to eat everything.

When you come in to Carluccio's, the first thing you see is the most exquisite and tempting range of cakes which makes it difficult to think of anything else. I somehow managed to find enough self-control to first order a coffee and eggs Florentine with toast, hollandaise sauce and spinach before choosing the Italian lemon tart which had caught my eye the second I saw it. The pastry was perfectly crisp but crumbly and the filling was thick and not too sweet. In the windows, large pyramids of chocolate pannetones stood like beacons drawing passers-by in and at other tables, people chatted over steaming cups of hot chocolate, savouring this special moments of gourmandise.

Arriving back in Derbyshire last night, I found the snow waiting for me when I was least expecting it, transforming the landscapes of my childhood just as it had done so many years before. As I write to you now in my icy room with its high ceiling, fingers frozen, big thick snowflakes are falling, old Christmas music can be heard from the kitchen and there is the delicious smell of apples and cinnamon. Everything around seems so silent and dark as the ground begins to freeze. I hope there will be many more days like this to come and I promise you some recipes soon. Happy holidays!

Just before I say goodbye...

There is so much to do, so much to say and so much to bake and yet the minutes are slipping by even as I write. I find myself in a race against time and (reluctantly) have to accept that it isn't one that I'm going to win. I promised you another recipe but that will have to wait; this week food has been the thing most lacking in my life and often I had trouble getting the opportunity to eat anything at all in the day, let alone something inspiring and more complicated things had to wait until the evening when photos were no longer really possible. But I wouldn't like to leave you without saying goodbye and turning my focus to the (for me!) real meaning of Christmas - sheer capitalist greed or in plain English, what I'd like as presents. This may seem egocentric but as Pia rightly said, Christmas is the only time when we can make wish lists without having a complex so here goes:

Top of my list has to be a camera. OK, I only got a new one in the summer but you can never have too many, right? Actually, before I started this blog, I'd never really taken photos before but now the very sight of a camera shop makes me go weak at the knees, especially the fabulous one at Viktoria Luise Platz. Seeing Julia's amazing photos makes me dream of getting a Canon EOS 350 or any nice DSLR, although I have the feeling Santa might already be over budget this year so it will have to be a present to myself in 2010.

Linked to cameras are books on photography. One of the best books I read this year was Robert Capa's Slightly Out of Focus which was funny, touching and compelling. I lust after Magnum Magnum, amazing books on Henri Cartier Bresson and also the cityscapes of Andreas Feininger. It won't come as a surprise to regular readers that I'm not a very technical person - my toothbrush is more hi-tech than my mobile phone and that lovely Robert Doisneau picture someone gave me is still on my floor because I haven't quite managed to get the three nails in the correct places and after making a lot of holes in my wall, I'm hoping for a kind visitor to offer to help me out. Therefore, learning more about technical aspects of photography is a must. I never expected Andreas Feininger's Foto Lehre to be so interesting or readable so have already got my eye on his große Fotolehre. Let's hope his influence rubs off on me ;-)

There's also the question of mugs and crockery. Since I don't have my dream apartment, beautiful things to eat and drink from are essential. This year, I started my collection of mugs and am completely addicted to the Penguin Classics ones so want to expand my collection very soon. My favourite is the one from the incredible Barter Books in Alnwick which is perfect for tall teas to accompany your winter reading curled up on the sofa. You could also surely do no better than the beautiful one on Patoumi's blog with the wooden cover.

Highlights of my reading list this year were two new books by my some of my favourite authors, even though they've been dead for some time. While I don't agree with the Frankfurter Allgemeine that Meine Preise is Thomas Bernhard's best book, it's certainly one of them and full of humour and his usual provocativeness which I love so much. True Bernhardologists also shouldn't be without Thomas Bernhard: Leben und Werke in Bildern und Texten with amazing pictures from the places which inspired him, like his house in Ohlsdorf which I visited from the outisde this year, alongside extracts from his writings. I covet this book every time I go into Dussmann but somehow manage to find the self-control to resist buying it. No lover of germanophone literature can have missed the Herzzeit Briefwwechsel between Ingeborg Bachmann and Paul Celan. While I'm a great admirer of both poets, even those who feel intimidated by their complex works and sombre tone will find something touching in these letters of two people who loved each other so deeply but could not find the words or the way to stay together. Einmal muß das Fest ja kommen: eine Reise zu Ingeborg Bachmann is an amazing book that I'm always drawn to, a travel journal to the places and her works for those who find amazing beauty in her dark and difficult texts.

As an insatiable Proustian, I'm always on the lookout for new and inspiring books. While Proust Among the Stars is in my opinion, one of the very best books ever written about the Recherche, top of my list after the camera has to be Painitings in Proust, beautifully illuminating his amazing words with the paintings to which they are so closely linked and it's perfect for Proustians and also those new to his work.

If I had a bigger place to live and a strong coffee table, I would almost certainly order myself a copy of the Ingmar Bergman Archive, a 5 kg heavyweight book full of amazing photos and complete texts of the gloomy Swedish director that I can't seem to get enough of.

Tomorrow will be my last night in Berlin before I leave for the UK and will be away from this blog for the next week. Somehow it always hurts a little whenever I leave my beloved city. I think of all the days and evenings without it when my footsteps won't echo in it's empty streets and all the buildings that I'll miss seeing every day. Yet I know Berlin is part of me now and that it will never leave me, wherever I may go. On my way to the Christmas market tonight, I looked out from my usual U-Bahn route to the skyscarpers of Potsdamer Platz, one of the places I visited on my first visit to Berlin in 2006. Back then it seemed too modern and lacking in charm but now I somehow find it a comfort to see the green light at the top of the Daimler building and the bright roof of the Sony Center when I look across the skyline. I remember my last day in Berlin. It was a grey, wet day but I walked through Tiergarten to the Siegesäule with the pattering of the drops on my umbrella crossing only were reluctant cyclists. At that time, it seemed unlikely I would ever return and it seemed so cruel to leave this place so full of unexplored horizons and energy. But now it's mine to return to next year when I will have seen and done so much; it will be waiting for me and I'm sure that my heart will beat faster, just like it did when I finally moved here in 2007 and set eyes on the dome of the Reichstag after a long journey from Basel; it was truly of the happiest moments of my life and I find it hard to express the emotion. There's simply nothing like the feeling of coming home.

A little snow was here and there

I know that snow is special for many people but it always makes me feel a particular kind of excitement every time I see thick, white flakes falling from the sky. In the area where I grew up, we rarely had any and yet one of my very first memories is of sledge riding down a hill close to our house on a wooden sledge my Dad made. I remember the excitement mixed with fear and the sharpness of the wind against my cheeks. It made me sad when a new housing estate was built there shortly afterwards. I love the silence which snow creates, the muffled whoosh of cars going by with their headlights on, the strange evening light in the streets with its reflections and the satisfying crunch of it underneath your feet. Some people don't like snow in the city for me but I've always found there's something so amazing about waking up, opening the curtains and seeing the buildings and parks under a thick white blanket. Everywhere is transformed, even the ugliest places and the sight of it makes me want to put on Wellington boots, coat, scarf and gloves and rush out to enjoy every second of it while it lasts.

As a child, I fell in love with the Snowman animation, a story about a boy who builds a snowman that comes to life. Together they fly through the air to the North Pole to meet Father Christmas and other snowmen. The end is so heartbreaking though that it made me cry year after year but the story became one the things I adored the most. I had the book, record, teddy bear, plate, cup and still feel its magic whenever I watch it every Christmas Eve at teatime; I associate it with the smell of clementines and ginger, of warm mince pies and the crackling of logs on the fire.

But for me, the most beautiful memory of snow was back in the 80's when a blizzard swept across the UK, bringing down trees and powerlines everywhere. Today I'm not sure if I'd enjoy it the same way without Internet, blogging, light, music and other gadgets but as a child, it was fantastic to be sent home from school and the landscapes around our house seemed like one giant playground. My brother was at university at the time which was also closed. On our way to pick him up, my Dad took the precaution of buying an enormous amount of chocolate to put in the car, just in case we broke down. This all disappeared mysteriously later on but as I get my sweet tooth from my Dad, it shouldn't surprise you! We all went out together for long walks, got into ferocious snowball fights and made enormous snowmen. People stopped to talk to each other on the streets and there was a real feeling of solidarity in that strange and silent world, cut off from everything. I can't exactly remember what we did for food; back then there were no enormous supermarkets close by but we obviously didn't starve! We were lucky to have a gas stove and heating and there were thick white slices of buttered toast whose smell mingled with that of the melted candlewax. In the evenings, candlelight flickered and we read stories aloud to one another; a highlight was the hilarious A Diary of a Nobody, especially the part where the narrator decides to paint his bath red. I won't spoil that delicious story if you haven't read it but I think you can easily imagine it isn't a success! My family is proud to own an antique bed warmer which my Dad couldn't wait to try out now that the electric blankets were no use. It was the first and last time because it leaked so my parents ended up sleeping on the sofa while their bed dried! Then late one evening, I was sitting in the kitchen when I heard a crash and the lights came back on; it seemed unreal to return to normal life again and thinking of those snow filled days always makes me happy and feel nostalgic. Last year, I cruelly regretted not being in the UK for the heavy snowfall when everyone had to stay at home but I'm still hopeful that we'll have snow again in Berlin this winter to compensate for the grey skies.

Berlin is currently packed in the countdown to Christmas which makes me want to avoid shopping altogether at weekends, especially since I read Magda's hilarious post on using on of my recipes. Also, I prefer presents with a more personal touch so for my friends, I decided to make the Weihnachtskekse (or Christmas cookies) from Mingou's blog, plus Cantuccini from here. I'd also like to start with a personal message which I hope doesn't sound too nauseating:

Dear friends, I know it isn't easy for you to put up with me. I'm very demanding, a perfectionist, I mess up all of your diets, I send you enormous emails which you take the time to answer, you cheer me up when I'm (frequently) frustrated, you always say the nicest things about my baking when I feel it's a disaster, you give me the coolest music and films. Actually, you guys are the best and I couldn't do without you so enjoy the cookies - you deserve them! And to all my readers - thanks for inspiring me and making me feel appreciated. I still can't believe it when I read all your lovely comments!

You can find the recipes in French in this beautiful post:

Lebkuchen (makes about 60) - There's no pic because basically, I had to leave them to dry overnight when they'd been iced which meant hiding them from my flatmate so they all stuck together. They were good, though, believe me!

300g rye flour (Roggenmehl)

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

175g icing sugar

1.5/ 2 tsp mixed spice or Lebkuchen spice (basically the same thing!)

3 small eggs

80g honey (you'll all be smarter than me and NOT buy honey in a squeezy bottle which took ages to get it out of!)

For the covering

400g dark chocolate

100g butter

In a large bowl, mix together the rye flour, sugar, biarb of soda and spice.

Add the eggs and honey and mix until you have a smooth mixture (add more flour if it's too sticky).

Pre-heat the oven to 180°C.

On a well-floured (and I mean with A LOT of flour) work surface, roll out the dough until it's roughly 1/2 cm thick. Using the cutter shape of your choice, cut out the Lebkuchen and place them on a baking tray covered in non-stick paper, at least 2 cm apart. Bake for 10 minutes maximum - they should still be moist and soft! Leave to cool on a cooling rack.

When they're cool, melt the chocolate and butter together in a small saucepan (no need to use a double boiler) or in the microwave. Using a fork, dip each Lebkuchen into the chocolate so it's covered all over, scrape off the excess and place on a plate covered with non-stick paper. Leave to dry for several hours.

Zimtsterne (Cinnamon Stars) - makes around 50

I've added bicarb of soda here and even if Mingou's recipe isn't traditional, it's still fantastic!

200g ground almonds

60g caster sugar

100g icing sugar

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

3 tsp ground cinnamon

160g flour

2 egg whites

For the icing

150g icing sugar

1 egg white, beaten to the stiff peak stage

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

In a large bowl, mix together the the almonds, sugars, cinnamon, bicarb of soda and flour.

Add the eggs and mix well until the pastry forms a ball.

Pre-heat the oven to 150°C.

On a well-floured work surface, roll out the dough until it's 1cm (maximum) in thickness, cut out the stars with your cutter and place them on a baking sheet covered with non-stick paper. Bake for 10 minutes maximum (they should be just golden brown underneath). Remove from the oven and leave to cool.

To make the icing, mix the icing sugar with the whipped egg white and vanilla essence. Spread over the stars and leave to dry.

Linzer Augen (Linzer eyes) - Actually, these are my favourites and I couldn't resist making them with raspberry jam which I adore.

300g flour

200g butter

100g icing sugar

2 egg yolks

100 ground almonds

Zest of 1 lemon

2 sachets of vanilla sugar

a pinch of salt

1 egg, beaten for coating

for decorating

Seedless raspberry jam (I like Wilkin and Son, expensive but so delicious)

Some icing sugar

1. Pour the flour into a large bowl, add the cold butter, cut into small pieces and rub together until you have a mixture like breadcrumbs.

2. Add the rest of the ingredients and blend until you have a smooth dough. Add some water or flour as needed. Wrap the dough in clingfilm and leave to rest in the fridge for about 30 mins - while you're waiting, you can start with the Vanillakipferl dough.

3. Pre-heat the oven to 180°C.

4. After 30 minutes, roll out the dough on a well-floured work surface and cut out round shapes. On half on the circles, also cut out a hole in the middle (in Berlin, I found a really cool cutter with a removables smaller cutter for the centre but you can use anything).

5. Brush the cookies with egg and place on a baking sheet covered with non-stick paper. Bake for 10 minutes or until golden brown.

6. Leave to cool then decorate by sandwiching the biscuits together with raspberry jam and dusting with icing sugar.

Vanillakipferl (Vanilla crescents)

280g flour

100g ground almonds

200g butter

60g icing sugar

1 packet of vanilla sugar

1 egg

To decorate

Icing sugar

Vanilla sugar

1. In a large bowl, mix the flour with the ground almonds and vanilla sugar.

2. Add the cold butter cut into pieces and use your fingertips to combine until you have a mix like breadcrumbs.

3. Add the icing sugar and the egg and mix everything in until the dough forms a ball.

4. Wrap the dough in clingfilm and leave to rest in the fridge for about 30 mins.

5. Pre-heat the oven to 200°C.

6. If you're in Germany, you can find great Kipferl moulds at Karstadt, for instance, or you can just form little crescents yourself, about the size of your finger. Place on a baking sheet covered in non-stick paper and bake for about 10 minutes. When they're done, coat them in a mixture of vanilla and icing sugar.

Storage tips: I keep mine in 4 different metal, air-tight tins with a slice of apple as Mingou suggests for the Lebkuchen and Zimtsterne to keep them soft.

To give as presents - if you live in Germany, you can find lovely star covered plastic sachets at DM, Rossmann or many supermarkets. I use red ribbon to tie them up with. In France, you can get them from Lavande. Or you could pack them in beautiful tins. I'm sure they'll be apprciated however you present them.

The cantuccini recipe is from Pascale Weeks and amazingly simple.

This weekend is my last full one in Berlin before I fly to the UK next Sunday but I promise you another post before I leave - next time with some serious and non-sweet comfort food.