Coffee and pie

The hardest step

2012-01-31T14:27:00.000-08:00

Forgive my absence on this blog - this was really not the way I intended it to be, not even getting around to wishing any of you a Merry Christmas or Happy New Year and now we're into February. I feel I have to start with a piece of news, something that's been running through my mind constantly these past few months. It's nothing incredibly exciting like a book deal or a wedding but rather the decision to leave Berlin in the summer and return to Derbyshire for a while. It's hard to say exactly when I made up my mind. Berlin has been so great to me; I've managed to make a decent living for the first time in my life, get a place of my own, live in one of the loveliest cities and have the most wonderful friends. It seems insane to give it all up and yet...there are other things I want to try and if I don't make that leap now, I have the impression I'll never have the courage or the chance to take that step.

This summer will mark my fifth year as a Berliner. I remember that first visit a year before my move, walking through the Tiergarten in the rain to catch a glimpse of the Siegessäule, visitng the zoo and seeing the panda. There were the early days here when I did the CELTA and spent wild nights clubbing with Americans who've long since left. Five long years, half a decade and there's still so much to explore and understand. In my mind I've rehearsed the different stages; packing up my Berlin life into boxes, selling the furniture, cleaning my apartment and looking out from the plane at the red rooftops of Berlin as I fight back the tears. I try to prepare myself just as Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung do in In the Mood for Love when they practise saying goodbye even though I can't delude myself that you can train your emotions. Leaving Berlin will be one of the saddest things I do. Of course it seems more than a little desperate being 30+ and returning to the same small town where you started out when others already have houses and careers and I haven't even managed to get a drivers' licence in between.I've often identified with Dianne Wiest in Hannah and Her Sisters, the kooky one who gets turned down for acting parts for being too offbeat looking, trying out different projects and always needing to borrow money.

Deep inside there's a fear that it will all blow up in my face. I hope it will be a transition to something I've been wanting to do for a while, something I don't yet want to talk about because I'm afraid the dream won't come true - does that sound crazy?

Outside a Siberian winter has settled in Berlin for a while bringing frost, glacial winds but plenty of sunshine - the kind of winter I like best. The time here seems so precious but I keep repeating to myself what the our American guide at the Teufelsberg told us; once a Berliner, always a Berliner. I know wherever I go that it will always be a part of me. Thanks to all of you for your comments and emails - I know that you'll bear with my while I find my way through a somewhat uncertain 2012.

In the meantime I've been doing plenty of baking because nothing helps you keep it together better than a cup of tea and a large piece of cake and also because it's the only way to heat up my freezing cold kitchen. Nigel Slater's carrot cake is one of the nicest I've made; light and moist but with the indulgence of a cream cheese frosting.

Carrot cake (from Nigel Slater's Tender, Volume I)

For the cake

3 large eggs
250g plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp ground cinnamon
a pinch of salt
200ml sunflower oil
125g light muscovado sugar
150g carrots, peeled and grated
juice of half a lemon
150g chopped walnuts

For the frosting

250g mascarpone
200g Philadelphia cream cheese
150g icing sugar, sifted
a few walnut halves

1. Preheat the oven to 180°C/160°C fan assisted. Grease and line a couple of 22cm cake tins.
2. Separate the eggs. Sift together the flour, bicarbonate of soda, baking powder, cinnamon and salt.
3. Mix together the flour and sugar in a food processor until smooth then add in the egg yolks one at a time. Tip in the grated carrots, lemon juice and then the chopped walnuts. On the slowest setting possible, carefully fold in the flour mixture.
4. Beat the egg white until stiff then fold them into the mixture using a metal spoon.
5. Divide the mixture evenly between the two tins then bake in the oven for around 40 minutes. The cakes should be moist but not sticky. When they're done, leave them in their tins for about ten minutes before transferring to a cooling rack.
6. When the cakes are cool you can begin making the frosting. Beat the mascarpone, cream cheese and icing sugar together with a hand mixer or by hand until smooth and creamy. Sandwich the cakes together with the about a third of the frosting and spread over the top and sides with the remaining mixture. Scatter a few walnut halves on top and enjoy with a large mug of tea or coffee.

I'll be home for Christmas

2011-12-17T12:17:00.000-08:00

The Christmases of my childhood seem bathed in that vintage glow that comes with looking at old photographs. The time I went sledgeriding with my Dad down the hill before they built the houses on it, my parents and their Christmas Day walk, my Grandmother who sat in the living room with the heating on full watching It's A Wonderful Life until James Stewart became suicidal and she decided the film was much too depressing, the Boxing Day lunch we used to have at the pub. The 80s simply seem much quieter, even though I know I'm seeing things through rose tinted glasses. The past few weeks have been quite chaotic with many things to finish and deal with and through all of the most difficult times I've dreamed of my trip back to Derbyshire, free at last of all the pressure. The moment to lock the front door and head to the airport has almost arrived but I find myself overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions in anticipation of everything still to come and even sad after saying goodbye to friends I see almost every day here. I know that it will get easier the moment the plane takes off, knowing that it's my favourite time of the year with Christmas just a week away and the build up I so love. So as we're changing countries it seems appropriate to finish with some photos from another Christmas market, this time in Potsdam and a recipe for something traditionally found on the festive dinner table, red cabbage. Thank you so much for all your comments and support, especially the last week. They mean a lot to me and help keep me going. I'm headed for London next week for a couple of days to enjoy the special atmosphere and decorations. I look forward to sharing my experiences there with you and in the meantime, enjoy the last week before Christmas and take care.

Dramatic sky over Potsdam

In the Dutch quarter

Not soap but marzipan

A lot of Lebkuchen hearts

Ajouter une légende

Braised red cabbage with chestnuts (adapted from the New York Times cookbook)

1 large red cabbage

12 chestnuts

1 small onion, finely chopped

3 tablespoons white wine vinegar

3 sharp flavoured cooking apples, peeled and cut into thin slices

1. Preheat the oven to 200°C. Strip away any marked leaves from the cabbage and cut into quarters, removing the tough central core. Finely shred each quarter and leave to one side.

2. With a sharp knife, make an incision in each chestnut, beginning and finishing on either side of the "topknot". Place the chestnuts in a small baking dish and place them in the oven for around 10 minutes or until they've split. Remove and let them cool a little before peeling them.

3. Heat the vinegar and apple slices together in a large ovenproof saucepan and when everything begins to simmer, tip in the peeled chestnuts and shredded cabbage. Cover, turn the heat down and leave to cook for around 10 minutes, stirring from time to time.

4. Place the saucepan in the oven, cover the with tinfoil so the cabbage doesn't burn and bake for half an hour.

The sweetest thing

2011-12-15T02:20:00.000-08:00

Today hasn't been the easiest of days. The whole overground train network is down after a computer system failure with many people stranded and a few unlucky ones stuck in tunnels. Lack of information meant I waited 25 minutes on a cold platform before giving up and cancelling all other arrangements. Still, it wasn't all bad; stopping off to do some Christmas shopping and finding time to braise a red cabbage (recipe coming up soon). We're down to the last of the sweet stuff and between you and me, I'm relieved. After a day of excess on Tuesday with all those cookies and then snow topped spice cake for breakfast yesterday I'm off sugar for the rest of the week in an attempt to detox a little in time for the festivities. That doesn't mean I can't write about it though. The mince pies turned out great thanks to my friend S. who suggested using Pflanzenfett instead of shortening for the pastry as you can't get it over here. I can't say it tastes exactly the same but it brings the necessary lightness and crispness which you can't achieve with all butter.

The orangettes couldn't be simpler and will make everywhere smell of warm citrus fruit and chocolate, the very essense of Christmas, no? Thanks to the lovely Susan of Bricolage and Giulia Geranium (two of my favourite blogs so please check them out) for giving me the idea to make them.

Mincemeat

Until a few days ago, I never understood the mania for making mincemeat yourself. I'd always found really good shop stuff which we added some extra brandy to and even an article in the Guardian about the virtues of the homemade variety failed to convince me. In Berlin though finding mincemeat isn't all that easy; I was delighted to come across some at Galeria Kaufhof by Wilkin and Son, although at more than €3 a jar, you might curb your mince pie ambition. Yet when I used it in the cheesecake I was somehow disappointed with the flavour and decided to take the plunge and make my own. It turned out to be amazingly simple; if you've got plenty of time, combinig the ingredients overnight to let the flavours blend might be a good idea but it's not essential. I also noticed that with the homemade kind the individual ingredients are much easier to taste rather than the usual fruity mass.

Recipe adapted from a mix of those by David Lebovitz and Nigella Lawson's How to be a Domestic Goddess.

Makes 600g

2 medium sized cooking or sharp apples (boskop/russets/canadiens gris are good), peeled and cut into quarters

juice and zest of an unwaxed lemon

125g raisins

125g sultanas

50g glacé cherries, roughly chopped

50g blanched almonds, chopped into thin slivers

2 tablespoons brandy

125g soft, dark sugar

1/2 teaspoon mixed spice

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

2 x 300g jam jars

In a large saucepan, dissolve the sugar in the lemon juice over a low heat. Add the chopped apples and all the other ingredients, except for the brandy. Simmer gently for about half an hour until the mixture has become very soft and slightly liquid. Remove from the heat and leave to cool a little before stirring in the brandy. Spoon into sterilised jars (see note below) and cover the tops with a wax disc.

To sterilise jars you can either put them in the dishwasher and remove them when clean but still warm or otherwise wash them in soapy water, dry thoroughly and place in an oven at 180°C for 5 minutes.

Mince pies (from Nigella Lawson's How to be a Domestic Goddess)

Makes around 24

300g plain flour, sifted

75g shortening/ Trex or Pflanzenfett in Germany

75g cold, unsalted butter

juice of 1 orange

a pinch of salt

600g mincemeat (see recipe above)

some icing sugar to dust over

1. Sift the flour into a small bowl and using a teaspoon, add small dollops of the shortening and butter. Rub in a little with your fingers and place the bowl in the freezer for 20 minutes.

2. Mix the orange juice and salt in a little jug and chill in the fridge for 20 minutes.

3. When the time is up, tip the flour and fat into a food processor and pulse until you have crumbs like rolled oats. Drizzle in the orange juice a little at a time through the funnel and continue to pulse until the mixture is just beginning to stick together. Remove the dough from the food processor and on a floured work surface, knead it a little with your hands until it forms a ball. Divide into two discs, wrap in plastic and chill in the fridge for another 20 minutes.

4. Preheat the oven to 200°C.

5. When the time is up, roll each disc out as thinly as possible but not so thin that it breaks or won't support the filling. Using a 6-7cm round cutter, cut out circles in the pastry and gently place each one into the pie mould, pressing down a little so they're even. Fill each one with a generous teaspoonful of mincemeat as nobody like a dry mince pie. When you've cut out enough circles for the base, roll the pastry out again and cut out the tops using a star shaped cutter, placing each one lightly on top of the mincemeat.

6. Bake in the oven for 10-15 minutes, checking that they don't burn. Leave the pies in the tins for a minute or two as it makes them easier to remove and transfer to a cooling rack. Dredge with icing sugar before serving.

Orangettes (from Smitten Kitchen)

3 large organic oranges

water for boiling

250ml water + 225g sugar for the syrup

400g dark chocolate (I used 70% Lindt)

1. Slice the tops off the tops off the oranges and with a shap knife, score the peel from one end to the other and remove. Cut the peel into thin strips and trim the edges to make them neat.

2. Place the strips a large pan of boiling water for 5 minutes, drain and throw the water away as it will contain bitter juices. Boil a fresh lot of water and place the strips in it for another five minutes. This step removes the bitter taste.

3. Make the syrup by mixing together the 250ml water and 225g sugar and bringing it to a gentle simmer, Tip in the peels and cook for about an hour, checking back from time to time that the pan hasn't run dry.

4. Remove and transfer to a wire rack to cool and dry out. I placed a piece of baking parchment underneath to collect the sticky drips.

5. When they're cool, melt the chocolate in a double boiler or in the microwave, stopping to stir every 30 seconds with the latter. Using a fork, dip each strip of peel in the chocolate and leave to set on a baking tray covered with parchment. When the chocolate has set, store them in a metal tin.

All about cake

2011-12-14T06:50:00.000-08:00

One of things I dread most during the holiday season in Britain is visiting someone and being offered a slice of Christmas cake. Often dry or dense fruit cake covered with a layer of shop bought marzipan and some thick fondant icing like concrete. Even the smallest piece sits in your stomach like a lead weight and unlike in Germany you can't refuse it and say you don't really like such cakes but have to smile over every forkful and compliment your hostess. Thankfully there are lighter alternatives which also have the advantage of not needing to be made weeks in advance. If you do have your heart set on a fruit cake though, might I suggest a Dundee cake like the one P.K made? She recommends the recipe from Delia Online here for a lighter kind of cake.

Here are my suggestions for three different cakes to serve at Christmas.

When I saw Nigel Slater's mincemeat cheesecake recipe, my first reaction that it couldn't possibly work. Surely the flavours wouldn't blend well with the cream cheese or it would simply overwhelm everything else. Yet I couldn't resist the urge to test it and to my surprise it's a real winner. The buttery taste of the base with digestive bicuits, the creaminess and then the fruit make it something special and a little more original than just simply bringing out another batch of mince pies. A couple of points though; the recipe calls for 300g of digestive biscuits for the base but I found it didn't need half that amount and even then it came out much thicker than I'd normally like so I'd suggest using about a third. The second point is that you might not want to serve this cake to your, er, German friends. One student told me it was different which is of course a polite way of saying it isn't really your cup of tea while another friend compared the taste of mincemeat to Worchester sauce which is certainly original (although saying that, the other person who tried it really loved it.)

Mincemeat cheesecake (from a recipe by Nigel Slater in the Guardian)

For the base

100g digestive biscuits

65g unsalted butter, melted

For the filling

600g full fat cream cheese

100g brown sugar

4 medium eggs

zest of a small orange

a teaspoon vanilla extract

300g sour cream

1 jar of mincemeat (around 310g, I found that the 200g in the original recipe wasn't enough) or better still, make your own. I'll be posting a recipe for homemade mincemeat this week but Delia's is also wonderful

For a 26cm springform tin lined with baking parchment to prevent the base from sticking

1. Melt the butter in saucepan or in the microwave. Place the biscuits in a food processor and pulse a few times until you have fine crumbs (alternatively you can place the biscuits in a strong plastic bag and crush with a rolling pin). Mix the butter with the crumbs and transfer to the springform tin. Pat the crumbs down a little but not too strongly (to avoid having a thick crust). Place the tin in the freezer for 20 minutes to set.

2. Preheat the oven to 140° and begin making the filling. In a large bowl, beat the cream cheese and sugar together until smooth. Add the eggs one at a time, blending in thoroughly before adding the next one. Mix in the vanilla extract and orange zest, then the sour cream. Finally stir in the mincemeat gently until only just incorporated.

3. Remove the springform from the freezer and place it on a baking tray. Pour in the cheescake mixture and bake for one hour. The middle will probably feel a little wobbly but that's perfectly normal. After one hour, switch off the oven and leave the cheesecake in there with the door closed for another hour.

4. Take it out of the oven, let it stand in the tin until cool then transfer to a plate and leave overnight in the fridge. If you don't do this, your cheesecake will not set properly. Grate a little more orange zest and scatter some biscuit crumbs over the top if you like.

Few things seem to represent Christmas as much as cranberries. Their rich, gleaming colours and sourness so perfect for jam and cakes. I've seen the upside down cake with them in quite a few places, most recently on Barbara's blog but was keen to have a plain cake with them inside which proved more difficult to find. Joy the Baker has a lovely recipe for a cranberry streusel coffee cake which would be perfect for teatime or after a large main course as a lighter dessert. The streusel with brown sugar and oats is irresistable and it's amazingly airy and light.

Cranberry streusel coffee cake from Joy the Baker (recipe here)

My favourite festive cake of all though is this snow topped spice cake from Nigella Lawson. I posted the recipe last year but you can find it again here. This morning I took it into my morning class since this is my last week at work before my holiday and was really pleased how much everyone liked it. It's spicy enough with cinnamon, ginger and cardamom and sweet with lemon icing but manages to be as light as a feather and satisfyingly squidgy in the middle. Best of all, it's incredibly simple. This will be the one I'm making for my family at Christmas.

Snow topped spice cake (slightly adapted from Nigella Lawson's How to be a Domestic Goddess)

For the cake

4 large eggs, separated, plus 2 extra large egg whites
125ml vegetable oil
125ml water
2 tbsp runny honey
100g dark muscovado sugar
75g ground almonds
150g plain flour
2 tsps baking powder
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
pinch of salt
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp all-spice
1/4 tsp ground cloves
zest of 1/2 an orange
100g caster sugar

For the icing

juice of 2 lemons

150g icing sugar, sifted

1. Preheat the oven to 180°C.

2. Whisk together the yolks and oil, then add the water, honey and dark muscovado sugar. Add the almonds, flour, baking powder, bicarb, spices and zest, folding in gently.

3. In another bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff and then gradually add the pinch of salt.

4. Fold the whites into the cake mixture, and pour into a greased and lined Springform tin. Bake for 45 minutes, or until the cake is springy on top and beginning to shrink away from the sides. Let the cake cool in its tin on a rack for 25 minutes before turning it out.

To make the icing; sift the icing sugar into a bowl and add the lemon juice. Stir until smooth. Add more sugar/juice as necessray, depending on how thick or runny you like your icing. Spread on the cake with a palette knife and leave to set. The cake keeps well for a few days and also freezes (uniced) beautifully.

The big baking post

2011-12-13T09:38:00.000-08:00

Dear reader,

As we speak, a large pot of homemade mincemeat is cooling on the stove, soon to be laced with brandy and left overnight for the flavours to blend. Commissioned by my boss to bake 2 dozen mince pies, I feel a little nervous, especially since I don't have the proper sized tin, only a muffin mould and cutters which are too small. Since the begiing of December I have made around 200 German Christmas cookies or Plätzchen. Last week I made a mincemeat cheesecake and on Sunday the flat smelled of oranges and freshly baked gingerbread as I prepared a snow topped spice cake and some orangettes. In the small hours of this morning I made Dan Lepard's cranberry chocolate snow cookies as the sky was turning the loveliest pink and orange. They were so good that I ate at least 12 of them, yes really, me who was always so self-righteous about only ever eating one transformed into a quivering wreck who raids the biscuit tin. If there was ever a case for baking overdose, it could well be me and it's not even Christmas yet.

Still, as Mae West once said, too much of a good thing can be wonderful. In the spirit of seasonal excess, I'll be posting a series of recipes, hopefully every day until Sunday, beginning with this post on Christmas cookies. I've never really been a fan of shop biscuits or boxes of chocolates, however expensive they may be. There are always the caramels, liqueurs and coconut ones which I hate left at the bottom and it always seems too much. Yet a little bag of homemade goodies makes a lovely gift, much nicer than a boring voucher or another CD and I guarantee that your friends will really appreciate the time and effort you've put in for them. I made all the Plätzchen below over about four days but you might not have the time or energy for that which I quite understand. The Spekulatius are by far the simplest and quickest, followed by the cranberry and chocolate snow cookies then the vanilla crescents, Linzer Augen and mini Stollen. The Lebkuchen and cinnamon stars are the fiddliest and most time consuming, although also the most popular. Whichever you choose, I'm sure they'll be most appreciated.

Vanilla crescents (recipe from Mingou I posted here)

Keep in a metal tin for 4-6 weeks in a cool place

Linzer Augen (recipe from Mingou I posted here)

Keep in a metal tin for 4-6 weeks in a cool place

Spekulatius

I bought my patterned form from Karstadt but any large department store in Germany should stock nice ones. If you can't find it, just use ordinary cutters in the shape of your choice.

Makes around 80

500g flour

250g butter

250g natural cane sugar

a pinch of salt

2 eggs

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1. Preheat the oven to 200° or 175° fan assisted. Place all ingredients in a large bowl and mix until you have a smooth dough.

2. Roll the dough out to around 5 mm thick and cut out shapes or if using a form press the dough onto the pattern evenly with a rolling pin or your hands. Place on a baking sheet covered with parchment.

3. Bake for around 10 minutes then remove carefully and transfer to a wire rack to cool.

Keep in an airtight container for 4-6 weeks

Zimtsterne (cinammon stars). Recipe from the December issue of Meine Familie und ich.

I chose a different recipe from previous years in order to avoid serving raw egg white so I could give it to kids and older people. It's basically pretty similar but this time the icing is applied before baking.

Makes around 60

4 egg whites from medium sized eggs

a pinch of salt

350g icing sugar

500g ground almonds

1 tablespoon cinnamon

1/2 tablespoon zest from an unwaxed lemon

icing sugar for rolling out

1. Beat the egg whites with the salt until stiff then fold in the icing sugar. Beat at maximum speed on your hand mixer for another 10 minutes. Put 5 tablespoons of egg whites to one side.

2. Mix the almonds with the cinnamon and lemon zest. With a large whisk, gently blend in the egg whites and leave to cool for 30 minutes.

3. Divide the dough into small portions and roll each one out between two sheets of plastic in order to avoid having a super sticky dough that remains glued to the worktop (I'm talking from experience). It should be around 5mm thick. Using a star shaped cutter, regularly dipped in icing sugar, cut out the cookies and place them on a baking sheet lined with parchment, gathering up the remaining bits and rolling out again until you have no dough left over. Brush the reserved egg white mixture over the stars and leave to dry for an hour.

4. Preheat the oven to 150°C (fan assisted 130°C). Bake the stars for 12-14 minutes and transfer to a rack to cool. They should be slightly golden and chewy inside.

Keep in a metal tin for 2-3 weeks

Elisen-Lebkuchen (Recipe from the December issue of Meine Familie und ich)

Elisen-Lebkuchen are a little different from the normal Lebkuchen because there is no flour but a mix of nuts and spices instead. The cookies are pretty easy to make but decorating them takes a long time. However, all my friends loved them the best so maybe it's worth making the effort.

Makes around 60

4 medium sized eggs

1 teaspoon lemon juice

150g icing sugar

2 teaspoons Lebkuchengewürz or mixed spice if you don't live in Germany

200g ground almonds

200g ground hazelnuts

a pinch of salt

1 tablespoon zest from an unwaxed lemon

60 Backoblaten or wafers, 0.5cm (see here for more info or you can skip them if there aren't any in your supermarket)

250g bittersweet or dark chocolate, depending on your preference

chopped almonds for decorating

1. Preheat the oven to 160° or 140° for fan assisted ones. In a large bowl beat together the eggs, lemon juice and icing sugar vigourously by hand or with a mixer for around 10 minues or until thick and creamy. Add the Lebkuchengewürz, ground almonds, hazelnuts, salt and lemon zest and blend with a metal spoon.

2. Distribute the wafers on a baking sheet covered with parchment and place one heaped teaspoon of mixture on each Oblaten. Bake for around 15 minutes. Remove and leave to cool.

3. Melt the chocolate in a double boiler or the microwave, stopping to stir every 30 seconds if you're using the latter. I found that melting all the chocolate at once wasn't such a good idea because it started to set before I'd finished decorating so do smaller amounts one after the other if possible.

4. Brush each Lebkuchen with melted chocolate and scatter some chopped almonds on top.

Keep in a metal tin for 4-6 weeks. Place a slice of apple inside that you change regularly and don't close the tin completely so the cookies stay soft.

Chocolate cranberry snow cookies from a recipe by Dan Lepard in the Guardian here. So easy and delicious!

Mini Stollen ((Recipe from the December issue of Meine Familie und ich)

Makes around 80

For the dough

250g flour, plus more for rolling out and the worktop

1 pack of dried yeast or half a cube of fresh

1 tablespoon milk, slightly warmed

70g sugar

125g low fat quark/curd cheese/fromage blanc

a pinch of salt

one medium egg

80 raisins

50g candied orange peel

50g candied lemon peel

a little lemon juice

Extra

100g of butter for brushing on top

100g icing sugar for decorating

1. Sift the flour into a large bowl and form a well in the centre. In another bowl mix or crumble the yeast with the warm milk and 1/2 teaspoon sugar and pour into the well. Mix with some of the surrounding flour. Leave for 30 minutes.

2. When the time's up, add in the quark, salt, egg, remaining sugar, raisins, candied orange and lemon peel and the lemon juice and knead until blended. Cover with a clean tea towel and leave to rise in a warm place for 30 minutes.

3. Roll out the dough on a floured worktop until 2.5cm thick. Cut into rectangles 10cm wide and 20 cm long. With the edge of your hand make an indentation in the middle then fold both sides (lengthways not widthways) over one another so that you have a long Stollen shape.

4. Place on a baking sheep covered with parchment and leave for another 30 minutes.

5. Preheat the oven to 180° or 160° fan assisted. Bake the stollen on the middle shelf for 15-20 minutes.

6. Melt the butter and brush generously over the top of the stollen while it's still warm. The more butter you use, the longer it will keep and the better it will taste. Dredge a thick layer of icing sugar as a finishing touch and cut into 1cm thick slices.

Keep in a metal tin for 1-2 weeks

The finished cookies, ready for giving out. Tomorrow I'll be back to talk about cake and give you an update on my mince pies. Wish me luck!

The sky this morning

Sugar and spice

2011-12-08T23:36:00.000-08:00

I often think I could be someone you'd love to hate:

I go to bed early and never stay out late, even at weekends
I'm bright and cheerful in the mornings without needing coffee or having the alarm clock on snooze for an hour.
I rarely drink alcohol and have never taken drugs or smoked.
I love to exercise and work out almost every day.
I like the normally unpopular things like anchovies, stinky cheese, raisins in cheesecakes, brussels sprouts, cabbage and spinach.
I'm always early for appointments and the first to arrive at parties.
I never forget to floss.
I never eat at the cinema because the noise distracts me.
I only watch original versions of films and love reading subtitles.
My flat is a mess 90% of the time and if you're brave enough to open any of my cupboards, things tend to fall out.
My favourite seasons are autumn and winter and I don't like summer.
I cry easily at films.
And last but not least, I love Christmas. The whole smaltziness, kitsch and overblown occasion that it is. The twinkling of the lights, the smell of cinnamon and chestnuts, coming home laden with bags stuffed with presents, buying a poinsettia, listening to classic songs by the Carpenters, Bing Crosby, Andy Williams and Nat King Cole, watching the Snowman and It's a Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve then bursting into tears. The build-up part is my favourite so I try to make the most of every spare minute; baking Christmas cookies for friends, going out for walks in the evenings wrapped up warm to see the decorations and visiting the Christmas markets. Yesterday I finished work early and headed over to Gendarmenmarkt and then to the one at the Opernpalais. It made me realise how much I love this city in winter. Instead of the usual mulled wine or waffles I paid one final visit to the charmingly old fashioned Opernpalais for coffee and cake which will close at the end of the year. The room was packed with people savouring their spectacular Viennese style Torten, large bowls of soup and hot chocolate piled high with cream. A sad farewell to a Berlin institution which offered a welcome relief to Starbucks; I'm going to miss that place.

Scandinavian design on the way to the market

Stormy weather over Gendarmenmarkt

Anyone for a cocktail?

Alpaca wool

The market at the Opernpalais

Opernpalais café

Just part of the amazing range of cakes

Dusk on Bebelplatz

Fairy lights at Potsdamer Platz

As promised in my last post, here's my version of Julia's recipe for the Swedish spice cake. Her original recipe uses unsweetened bilberries which you should also choose if you're lucky enough to find any. In Berlin there were plenty in jars but sweetened which I hate so I replaced them with fresh cranberries. Julia also used lait ribot which you can easily find in Brittany but I replaced it with buttermilk, although any kind of fermented milk would be fine. My icing came out too thin and was more of a syrup but the cake was still moist and delicious and should definitely be an addition to the Christmas coffee time.

Mjuk pepparkaka or Swedish spice cake (original recipe in French here)

Ingredients

100g soft butter, unsalted

2 eggs

100g brown sugar

2 tsp ground cinnamon

2 tsp ground cardamom

1 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp ground cloves

220g white spelt flour

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

100ml buttermilk

100g unsweetened cranberries

1. Grease and line your cake tin (it should hold up to 1.5l). Preheat the oven to 150°C.

2. Melt the butter.

3. Beat the eggs and sugar vigourously for five minutes until thick and frothy.

4. Add the spices, flour, bicarb of soda followed by the buttermilk, melted butter and cranberries, beating in slowly.

5. Pour the mixture into the prepared cake tin and bake in the oven for 50 minutes to 1 hour.

6. Decorate the cake with icing and berries.

For the icing

Combine 200g icing sugar, a tablespoon of lemon juice and 25ml of water. Heat up to 40°C and pour over the cake. The icing will set as it cools.

Christmas gift guide

2011-12-03T08:08:00.001-08:00

Dear readers, it's been quite a week with a rotten cold, a trip to the dentist, an impending tax bill, a pile of admin and injuring myself with the bread knife. I really lost it yesterday morning and hurled a few things in frustration but am happy to say everything seems brighter today and that I'm on the mend. At least there were some good things; handing out the first Weihnachsplätzchen (Christmas cookies) to friends and going to see Polanski's brilliant Carnage in spite of a running nose.
I still haven't told you about my trip to the Finnish bazaar, Julia's Scandinavian spice cake or shared my selection of seasonal recipes but I'm somehow more in the mood for sharing my Christmas gift ideas. Besides, I'd prefer to do it before the brilliant Cup of Jo guide makes any further lists unnecessary. So here goes...

1. Cookbooks

I'm ashamed to say it but I rarely buy cookbooks because I'm too mean to spend €20-€30 on one thing, although somehow that never stops me from leaving Dussman with a couple of paperbacks and a DVD for more money. My collection stretches to about 10 which is why I often ask for them for Christmas. This year I've got my eye on Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's River Cottage Veg after testing several recipes from it, all of them absolutely wonderful, especially this butternut squash curry. If we're discussing favourite cooks, Nigel Slater claims first place with me for his wonderful writing and recipes. Both volumes of Tender are now out in paperback, either individually or in a lovely set. Dan Lepard's new book, Short and Sweet, also sounds wonderful.

If you speak French, all of the Editions de Épure are beautifully designed and great value at just €6.50; my friend Julia's little booklet on cardamom would make a perfect gift for anyone, as would the one on marrons glacés, written by Pauline of Beau À la Louche which I'm dying to get.

2. For the home

I have a terrible addiction to Iittala for their moomin collection and classic kitchenware. This year they have the prettiest limited edition cups and bowls in the Kulku set which I couldn't resist, even though I was only able to afford a couple. They also do double packs of their lovely candleholders which make any room or windowsill so pretty. I covet the red which is sadly the most expensive.

If you're looking for something cheaper, how about this delightful owl mug with a lid to keep your drink warm which can also be used as a coaster so your desk stays free of tea stains.

Patoumi keeps taking photos of cakes on her pretty Marimekko plates which would look good on any dinner table but right now, these retro bowls (below) are a more afforable addition and available from Pomeranza Design Ranch in Prenzlauer Berg.

If you're as useless as I am at rolling out pastry to the correct thickness, this adjustable rolling pin should change that

Let's not forget out four legged friends! I'm really excited about seeing Oscar, Mungo, Jasper, Mingus and Jacob in a couple of weeks and have ordered them these new bowls from Debenhams to make breakfast time even better:

If you have a garden, you can help the birds with this chaming Silvester birdbox

3. Comfort

The patterned jumper from Gudrun and Gudrun, as worn by Sarah Lund in the Killing is the essential winter warmer but if you can't afford the original, H&M has a nice copy in either black or white.

Or if you just want to add some Scandinavian touches to your outfit, this pretty fairisle snowflake scarf from Accessorise would be prefect:

I wouldn't be without my electric blanket on these cold nights but a little added warmth is always welcome, like with this Moomins hot water bottle cover

In the Guardian today, Sali Hughes has a great gift guide for beauty products with the idea that less is more. As someone who has always dreaded receiving one of those bumper hampers full of products which gather dust in the bathroom, I couldn't agree more that it's much nicer to get just one high quality thing instead. I definitely won't be spending 35 quid on a lipbalm but the peppermint one from Crème de la Mer really does sound like heaven.

For smaller budgets, the large scented candles from National Trust would be lovely for bathtime and all the money goes to the worthy cause of looking after Britain's great houses and gardens.

Or if you've just got a few quid to spare, this Body Shop spiced vanilla soap is so lovely, looks expensive and only costs 2 pounds.

4. Books

Not surprisingly, books form the main part of my Christmas wishlist, although every year I tell myself it will be different after trying to cram them all into an overstuffed suitcase, worrying that it will exceed the airport weight limit and hauling it up four flights of stairs. But I never learn...Edmund de Waal's exquisite Hare With the Amber Eyes is now available in an illustrated version to give you a better idea of the netsuke and places he's describing. On a student's recommendation, I recently bought Tom Rob Smith's Child 44 and was unable to put it down for 2 days. Its follow-up, The Secret Speech, is on my list but there's also Agent 6 out now in hardback to complete the trilogy. Tove Jansson's The Winter Book always makes a wonderful gift, as does Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. I'm also intrigued by Diego Marani's New Finnish Grammar about a mysteriously wounded man sent to Helsinki. In Provence, I regretted not buying a copy of Le Club des Incorrigibles Optimistes, set in Paris in the 60s, and hope to get around to it in 2012.

If biography is more your thing, what about Lives Like Loaded Guns about Emily Dickenson and her family. As a huge Diane Keaton fan, I'm also dying to get my hands on a copy of her new book, Then Again.

Art lovers would be thrilled with the catalogue of the Leonardo da Vinci exhibition at the National Gallery if you can't get in or if you're feeling really generous (or have generous friends), the stunning Art Museum from Phaidon puts all other books to shame.

5. Music and film

If bittersweet, whistful and charming films in crisp black and white or vibrant colours are your thing, then the wonderful Complete Jacques Demy Collection is for you. All the famous ones like Les Demoiselles de Rochefort, les Parapluies de Cherbourg and Bay of Angels are there, along with lesser known gems.

Or you might prefer the Eric Rohmer Moral Tales set instead which I love. Three of the best films I saw this year, Of Gods and Men, Pina and the Illusionist are now out on DVD and Tamara Drewe will remind you just how peaceful the English countryside can be. French film fans shouldn't miss Two in the Wave, a documentary about the friendship between Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut. I'm also finally hoping to get around to watching Matthieu Amalric's On Tour. And who could forget the Killing?

I love music but am unfortunately, hopelessly out of touch with the latest things. However, Jeff Bridges' new album is on my list as is the cd of music from Woody Allen's films.

Seeking colour

2011-11-20T00:27:00.000-08:00

Thank you so much for all your lovely comments and film tips last week which made being ill at home seem much less bad. After extended viewing sessions every day and plenty of lemon and ginger tea with honey, I'm starting to feel better at last. The days are still quite warm for mid November but the sky has turned its usual shade of grey and it's hard to believe that just one week ago I got up early to go to the the Bürgerpark in Pankow to take these photos. I always mean to catch the last of the golden leaves before they disappear then wake up to discover the bareness of the trees. That park is a place I know like the back of my hand, it's pinkish paths with stones that crunch underfoot as joggers go by, the rose garden with its white arches where I've often caught the last rays of sun over my book, the café where I've drunk hot chocolate with cream in winter and iced coffee in summer, the little enclosure where the goats live. Yet I always feel there's some little thing I've missed; the flowers in bloom, a sculpture, the way the light illuminates the tops of the trees late afternoon.

Later on that day I met a reader of my blog. Always too early for appointments, I sat in the lobby of the Hackesche Höfe Kino trying to concentrate on my book, nervously biting my lip as I wondered if we would find each other. I glanced over at every new person coming up the stairs yet I knew when it was her, even though I had never heard her voice or seen her face. We snuck into a matinee of Meek's Cutoff, ordered the only vegetarian dish at a Vietnamese restaurant down the road and enjoyed the last pinkish glow of a stunning day before going back into the cinema to watch Polisse, a really great new French film about a youth squad in Paris. Normally going to the cinema is my guilty pleasure I enjoy alone, picking out a seat at the end of the row and feeling the excitement as the lights go down without worrying if anyone else likes the film but it also felt good to to find someone to share that with.

I'm feeling in need of colour and comfort on these sunless days. This afternoon I'm off to a Finnish bazaar with some friends, will try baking a Danish style feta and leek tart for dinner and am hoping to finally catch the new Kaurismäki film, Le Havre at the cinema in the next few days. What are your plans?

Finally, I couldn't leave you without giving you the recipe for my favourite cauliflower soup, promised a while back. It's truly one of my winter essentials, simple to prepare and heat up the next day when I'm too tired to cook.

Cauliflower Soup from Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Every Day

Heidi serves hers with aged cheddar and mustard croutons but I prefer a dollop of mustard in mine and some grated cheddar on top.

Ingredients

2 shallots, chopped,

1 onion, chopped

1 large potato, peeled and cut into small cubes

3.5 cups vegetable stock

a large cauliflower cut into little florets

some mature cheddar and Dijon mustard to serve

1-2 tbsp olive oil

a pinch of sea salt

1. Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan and add in the salt followed by the shallots and onions. Fry over a medium heat until soft. Tip in the chopped potato, cover the pan with a lid and leave to cook for about 4 minutes or until soft.

2. Uncover, pour in the vegetable stock and bring everything to the boil. Add the cauliflower and cook until the florets are tender. Remove from the heat and puree with a hand blender. Add a dash of mustard and sprinkle over some cheese to serve.

Film cures for colds

2011-11-14T23:41:00.000-08:00

As you saw from my list recently, I love the idea of winter much more than the reality but when the weather turns cold, I can't escape the chapped lips, cracked hands, frozen feet, raw, red skin and worst of all, sickness. Today I've abandoned all hope of going to work after waking up with a throat that feels like it's been sandpapered, sore eyes and a sinus infection. I hate taking time off work, mainly because I find it difficult to stay inside and do very little. If I can I make an effort and get dressed, make some tea and porridge with honey and venture outside for a bit. Somehow slobbing around in pyjamas with boxes of Kleenex everywhere makes me feel even worse. What helps me to survive though is my film collection and with about 200 DVDs, I'm never short of anything to watch. Bad colds mean I tend to choose films in English to give my sore eyes a break from reading subtitles or having to concentrate on listening to foreign languages. Below are my top 10 films to watch when you're not feeling so great.

1. Radio Days

You knew I'd start with a Woody Allen one, right? People tend either to love or hate him and those who love him always have their own particular favourites. I'd be happy with almost any of his films, but somehow Radio Days is my favourite. Seeing Rockaway beach on a grey, rainy day makes me feel all wistful and nostalgic and the soundtrack is wonderful. I already have this planned as my New Year's Eve film.

2. Groundhog Day

Basically, anything with Bill Murray gets my vote; Ghostbusters, Broken Flowers, Lost in Translation, The Royal Tennenbaums. I love the way he was never really young and always wears that look of eternal suffering. Groundhog Day is probably my choice for sick days because it really makes me laugh and also grateful that at least tomorrow will be different.

3. Bringing Up Baby

When it comes to comedies, I'm very picky; it either has to be screwball or extremely black humour which is the reason I tend to avoid them. Until recently, I had very few in my collection but then I had a terrible cold a couple of years ago and realised that I wasn't in the mood for Ingmar Bergman. Luckily, it was possible to watch the Marx Brothers on YouTube. This film by Howard Hawks with two of my favourite actors, Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant, is sheer perfection and I love the chemistry between them. Oh and the leopard is adorable too.

4. Metropolitan

What is it about New York winters that makes them seem so romantic? The reality must be different with blizzards and freezing temperatures but this comedy about the debutante season in the 80s always makes me long to spend Christmas there. The scenes where the main character is asked if he isn't cold just wearing a trench coat and replies that it's very warm and has a lining are my favourites.

5. The Squid and the Whale

I grew up in a dysfunctional family with parents who were both married before so this film really strikes a chord with me. It's painful, funny and reminds me how much easier it is to be an adult, even if they still act like children sometimes.

6. Stolen Kisses

One of the few non-English films I often watch when I'm ill is Francois Truffaut's Baisers Volés or Stolen Kisses. It felt so good to first see it as a twenty year old, unsure of my direction in life and as chaotic as Antoine Doinel. Now it makes me dream of being young in the Paris of the 60s and spending all day at the old Cinémathèque.

7. Rio Bravo

I know this won't be my most popular choice because westerns never are but at two and half hours, this one with John Wayne and Dean Martin manages to fill an afternoon which is nice for long days at home. Tarantino used it as a test for prospective girlsfriends but I love it because it's about friendship and courage in the Old West.

8. Atlantic City

Louis Malle has always been one of my favourite directors and film noir one of my favourite genres, but as you'd expect from Malle, he makes it his own and does something original. It's as much about the characters as the heist. Old has-been Burt Lancaster peeps at Susan Sarandon, his beautiful neighbour and imagines his great life as a gangster in a city that has also seen better days but then events throw them together that will change everything.

9. Chinatown

I can never resist the chance to rewatch my favourite film on a free afternoon. It's brilliantly written with perfect acting from absolutely everyone but especially Faye Dunaway and Jack Nicholson who I feel give their best performances as well as a chilling one from John Huston. The music makes me feel I'm sitting in an old fashioned cinema with velvet seats and it's nice to have a little LA glamour when you're sneezing and coughing.

10. Chungking Express

Two stories based around a snack bar in Hong Kong when paths cross, sometimes changing our lives, sometimes not. The first one is darker about Brigit Lin's need for survival and a chance meeting with a lonely policemen, the second is funny and touching with Tony Leung looking handsome in uniform and Faye Wong charming behind her black heart shaped sunglasses and rubber gloves, bringing change into his life.

And you, what are your favourite films for days off sick?

The weekly lunch

2011-11-10T04:23:00.000-08:00

Readers, I have a confession to make, I'm not much of a lunch person. The idea of eating at midday is a nice one but I often lack inspiration. Sandwiches have always filled me with dread; at school it was a choice between them or a cantine lunch and despite my love of good bread I'm not really in the mood for that and an exotic filling every day of the week. Sometimes I'm lucky enough to be able to come home for lunch, sitting down with a plateful of something nice while the church bells are chiming but I always opt for small portions to avoid that heavy weight in my stomach that tires me out in the afternoon. Large, hot meals are for dinnertime. Other days I pack cold leftovers to be eaten in the teachers' room which always excites my colleagues' curiosity and makes them label me exotic. I've decided to post a series of recipes that you can make quickly if you have a spare hour midday or take in a lunchbox. Please feel free to add your own ideas for tasty lunchtime bites in the comments section so that I can hopefully try some of them out and make lunch an event to look forward to. It will also give me a chance to share some of the backlog of photos that I've yet to post.

By the Spree, early one Sunday last month

This first recipe is one that I used to feel a little ashamed of because it doesn't really involve fresh ingredients but simply tinned tuna and tomatoes over pasta. Then a friend of mine confessed to loving tinned tuna as well and I felt much better. It may still be possible to get the odd good fresh tomato at the market but the season is all about pumpkins, kale, apples and quinces and in winter, tinned ones have more flavour. This recipe is a mainstay of my kitchen, one that I can whip up in around 20 minutes, feeling glad to have the ingredients in my cupboard so that I don't have to go out in the rain.

Tuna spaghetti (from the Moomins cookbook)

1 tin chopped tomatoes

1 tin tuna in oil, drained

1 leek, washed and with the tough green ends discarded

a little oil for frying

spaghetti

Heat a little oil in a medium sized saucepan and fry the leeks until soft. Pour in the tinned tomatoes and drained tuna and reduce heat to low. Simmer gently for around 20 minutes.

When the sauce is almost ready bring a large pan of water to the boil, add a generous pinch of salt and cook the spaghetti for the specified time. Wholewheat pasta blends excellently with this sauce and it's so rich and filling that you don't need any cheese.

If you've time the night before or early in the morning, a wholewheat apple muffin would be the perfect dessert. Moist, spicy and with a crunch of brown sugar on top. You can find the recipe from Smitten Kitchen here.

The devil's mountain

2011-11-06T01:17:00.001-07:00

My journey seemed like it would never end. A perfect autumn day with leaves shimmering gold and scarlet, yet still I was impatient on the train headed west and the bus offering glimpses of majestic villas shielded from prying eyes by high walls. I knew they would be there waiting for me though, ready to make our way through the Grunewald to the Teufelsberg where the Allies once listened to East German and Soviet radio signals until the Wall fell. Today the weather beaten ruins perch defiantly over the city and after seeing it so often when flying from Tegel, it had long been a dream of mine to get inside. An ever growing group of people gathered at the gates waiting for our guide, an American who had worked at the base. The clouds took over as we began to climb up, past buildings covered in graffiti and piles of rubbish left behind from wild parties which often take place there. The weatherproof covering has largely disintegrated because of the strong winds and vandalism but what remains is a haunting skeleton from which you look out over the woven colours of the trees below, across to the hill for kite flyers, the Olympic Stadium, the Wannsee and the river Havel with its sailing boats. The higher we went, the more beautiful the view and at the top of the tower the evening sun appeared, making everything even more radiant with a pinkish glow. I felt lucky to be there, knowing that in ten years' time it will probably be too dangerous to visit, the history under my feet and the wonderful city spread out below. Thanks to my dear friends for making this possible; it was the perfect late birthday present.

Since my last post about my favourite things in winter, there has been nothing but a glorious late autumn I'm happy to say. Long walks outside with the camera are a must to catch every bit of light and the leaves before they disappear. Stepping out last night though, I felt a chill in the air as the sun faded from view and thought it was also the perfect time to make Julia's Kademummabullar or Swedish cardamom buns. Julia has one of the loveliest blogs, full of wonderful recipes and the most beautiful photography but I felt a little nervous at the idea of making these because of the decoration involed at the end. Luckily though, her instructions couldn't have been clearer and despite the excellent video she recommends no longer being available to German users, I managed to make the pastries look presentable. They were so popular that I needn't have worried. Merci Julia pour la recette! Those of you who can read French can also get her wonderful little book on baking and cooking with cardamom at Éditions de l'Épure here.

Kardemummabullar (Swedish cardamom buns). Original recipe in French from Ju* Carnets.

The recipe seems very complex and hard work because the preparation is spread out over two days but none of the stages took me more than 20 minutes, baking excluded. If a clumsy left-hander like me can manage it, I'm sure you all can too :-) The only things I changed were not adding the optional almond paste to the filling and I skipped making the syrup to pour over the buns when they come out of the oven because I normally find it a bit too sweet.

Day 1 in the morning or the night before, create or feed your yeast starter by mixing 40g of fresh or dried yeast with 40 ml lukewarm water and 40g of all purpose flour, cover and leave for 8 hours or overnight.

Day 1 + 8 hours - prepare the dough without butter

Day 1 + 8.5 hours: add the butter to the dough

Day 1 + 18 hours: prepare the filling and make the buns

Day 2 + 8 hours - glaze the buns, sprinkle with pearl sugar and bake them

Makes 20 cardamom buns

For the dough

700g all purpose flour

80g yeast (see note above)

350ml milk

100g natural cane sugar

1 egg

10g sea salt

10g ground cardamom

100g soft butter, chilled

For the cardamom filling

150g soft butter, creamed

70g light muscovado or natural cane sugar

10g ground cardamom

For the glaze

1 egg, beaten

2 tbsp water

pearl sugar (I got mine at Galeria Kaufhof at Alex but most foodhalls of large department stores should stock it)

1. When your yeast is ready to use, pour the flour into a large mixing bowl and create a well in the middle. Pour the egg into the centre along with the salt, sugar, cardamom and yeast and mix the ingrediants together using your fingers (one hand is enough) and forming circular movements away from the centre. There will be plenty of flour around the middle but don't worry. Once you've mixed in the other ingredients, add the milk in several doses, still mixing with your fingers, working in the flour until it's all gone and you can form a ball with the dough. Lightly dust it with flour and place in a clean bowl, cover with a cloth and leave at room temperature for 30 minutes.

2. When the 30 minutes are up, remove the butter from the fridge, dust it with a little flour and roll it out between two pieces of clingfilm or plastic wrap to soften it. You should have a thin layer of butter. With your thumb, begin working it into the ball of dough then knead it with both hands on a floured work surface. The dough will become sticky and at times, almost impossible to deal with but keep going. Use more flour as needed until you once again have a smooth dough which forms a ball. Put it back in the bowl and leave to rest under a cloth at room temperature for 8 hours.

3. Eight hours later, you can begin to make the filling in a bowl by combining the butter, sugar and cardamom with a wooden spoon or a spatula. Dust your work surface with flour and roll out your dough to form a rectangle of approximately 40cm x 60cm. Spread the filling evenly over two thirds of the dough then fold it in three, beginning with the unfilled third over the middle third and the remaining filled one over this. I apologise for not having any photos here as none were in focus but you can find it shown very clearly on Julia's blog. Cut the rolled up dough widthways into strips about the thickness of your finger, twist them a little and tie them in a knot. Place your pastries on a baking sheet, cover with a slightly damp cloth and leave them overnight in a cool oven.

4. In the morning of the second day, preheat the oven to 200°C. Brush the unbaked cardamom buns with the egg glaze and sprinkle some pearl sugar over them. Bake in the oven for 12 minutes and leave to cool on the tray for around half an hour before eating.

Things I like for winter

2011-10-30T01:02:00.000-07:00

I like to think of myself as an autumn person, much happier putting on a chunky sweater and tights than a summer dress (even if I have a nice collection of the latter). There's no longer any danger of sweaty nights and the days are often golden and filled with colours. Winter doesn't affect me like some people who feel the cold terribly and get depressed by the dark mornings and short days but every now and then I get a touch of the blues, made worse by miserable grey skies and heavy rain. With that in mind, I've decided to put together a list of things that bring a smile to my face and help me get through times when everything seems as bleak as the wind blowing outside.

1.Classic literature

Some books are simply better for reading in winter and having a good book or two on the go makes staying in seem less bad. Reading Jane Austen and Elizabeth Gaskell always make me feel as if I'm sitting curled up in some country house by a roaring fire, even if the reality is a little less charming. Persuasion has the wistful melancholy of an autumn afternoon and its golden leaves and last year, Cranford had me laughing out loud.

In our family, we spend our Christmas evenings selecting our favourite texts and reading them aloud. It's so much fun so if you don't live alone, why not give it a try? Diaries like those Pepys are be great orBoswell's Life of Doctor Johnson or some correspondence. Or how about some classic ghost stories like M.R James or Wilkie Collins?

2. Baking with fruit and spices

The kitchen is my favourite room to spend time in but it's unfortunately also the coldest with only a tiny radiator and thin windows and a cold draft. Switching the oven on is a necessary step, plus what could be better than having an apartment filled with the smell of chocolate cake, cinammon or baked apples? In a few weeks' time I'll be preparing my yearly batch of Plätzchen or Christmas cookies to give to my friends. This year though I'd also like to try this Panforte recipe and Julia's Kardemummabullar. In the meantime, there's the stem ginger shortbread recipe at the end of this post.

Stem ginger shortbread

2. Knitwear

Even if I can never resist a pretty summer dress, secretly I'm always looking forward to the day when the thick jumpers come back. I'm happy to say that fair isle patterned ones are a key trend this season. I covet this one from Gudrun and Gudrun but sadly not the price tag but there are plenty of high street alternatives. I've just ordered this one from Esprit, along with this knitted dress and this jumper from H&M. Otherwise, I'll be wearing my Muji hat from last year on frosty mornings and slipping on the thick socks in the evenings. My best investment recently has been a pair of Sandra Juto wristworms which make it possible for me to write, work on the computer and read while keeping my hands warm.

3. Kitchen stories

One of my favourite films which I found thanks to Julia and wrote about in more detail here. A story about a Swedish man from a home research institute sent to investigate the kitchen habits of single Norwegian men. Funny, touching and quirky, it's perfect for winter viewing.

4. TV series

There are some things you should know about me; apart from pyjamas and sportswear, I don't own any trousers, I have never had a washing machine and I don't have a TV. Recently though, I've discovered the joys of television series on DVD, the satisfaction of viewing something over several weeks, that sometimes I only feel like watching something for a hour or 30 minutes, rather than a whole film. Last summer I once again fell in love with Brideshead Revisited, nostalgic for a Britain of a different time, and the autumn evenings have been devoted to Fortunes of War with the amazingly young Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson. Classic comedies like Frasier or Open All Hours remind me of Friday nights spent glued to the television as a teenager when I had a crush on Niles and wondered if Granville would ever find a girlfriend while the House of Elliott takes me back to Sunday teatime watching it with crumpets and boiled eggs, dreaming of having Evie's style.

Right now though my waking hours are largely devoted to thinking about the Killing, A Danish series revolving around a single case and a stubborn female detective with a black and white jumper I'm also obsessed with. No silly car chases, explosions or glamourous police officers. It's tough limiting myself to just two episodes a week.

5. Woody Allen films

Whenever I feel the winter blues or the mean reds coming on, I reach for a film in my Woody Allen collection. Somehow they make you feel that it's Friday evening even on a grim Monday and that everything is all right with the world. In Woody Allen films there's always something good at the cinema, people burst into song or stroll along the Seine. There are flea markets to visit, restaurants that stay open all night and most of all, New York with jazz music.

6. Beauty products

As a teenager I was an avid reader of fashion and beauty magazines, saving for weeks to buy Lancôme skincare and Clarins make-up. I've since become disenchanted with the whole industry but still rely on a few key products, especially in winter. I suffer from rosacea on my face and eczema on my hands (it's not as bad as it sounds) so need gentle, effective and most of all, unperfumed products. For my face I wouldn't be without my Liz Earle Cleanse and Polish hot cloth cleanser complete with muslin cloth or Simple Hydro Boost cream for dehydrated skin. Sali Hughes has a brilliant beauty column in the Guardian and following her recommendations, I threw away my tins of Vaseline and bought a dinky little tube of Clinique Superbalm. For hands, Body Shop Almond Hand and Nail Cream or L'Occitane Shea Butter hand cream are wonderful.

7. Winter walks

It seems a strange thing to suggest a walk when it's freezing cold outside but often when I'm feeling down, a brisk stroll through the park helps me collect my thoughts. The days are shorter but the light can be amazing. On Christmas Day, there's no feeling like it as we put on our coats, boots and scarves and set out down frozen lanes, silent for once. In Berlin, I keep seeing posters for great houses and palaces in Brandenburg. A walk through fresh snow around Schloss Rheinsberg below would be wonderful.

8. Soups

If anything can make you grateful for that chill in the air, it's a comforting bowl of hot soup. Except for summer, I eat it almost every evening, dipping into Lindsey Bareham's A Celebration of Soup or my other cookbooks for inspiration. On warmer days, I tend to prepare clearer, lighter soups but now is the time for hot, thick ones, with strong cheddar grated on top and a piece of dark, crusty bread. I'm planning a series on soups, beginning with the cauliflower one below in the next post.

9. Films/ exhibitions

When I'm not brave enough to face the great outdoors, I head for an afternoon screening at the cinema which still makes me feel as if I'm skipping school. A season of musicals is beginning at the British Film Institute very soon which I'd love to see and in Berlin, I'm looking forward to seeing Meek's Cutoff, the new Paolo Sorrentino film, Polanski's Carnage and perhaps rewatching the latest Jane Eyre because of its Derbyshire landscapes and wonderful performances.

In Berlin there's still time to catch the Hokusai and Faces of the Renaissance exhibitions if you can face the crowds but I preferred to go upstairs in the Gropius Bau to look at the photos by Eugene Smith. The Museum of Photography is always worth returning to and I'm dying to see those Helmut Newton Polaroids. In London, if you can, it's really worth going to see the Degas exhibition at the Royal Academy, along with the Soviet Art and Architecture one. At Somerset House there will soon be ice skating but what I'd most love to see would be these exquisite photos of Venice, like the one below. If you can, will you go there for me?

Apologies for the rather rambling post but then I like so many different things. Let me know what brings you comfort through the winter.

Stem ginger shortbread (from Linda Collister's The Great British Bake Off)

Makes 20

200g soft unsalted butter

100g caster sugar, plus some extra to sprinkle on top

240g white spelt flour, or 260g plain flour if you prefer

40g rice flour, ground rice or cornflour (I used the third)

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

a pinch of salt

50g chopped glacé ginger

1-2 baking sheets, greased

1. Cream the butter in a large mixing bowl with a wooden spoon or an electric mixer until creamy. Pour in the sugar and cream again until light and smooth.

2. Sift the flour, rice flour or cornflour, ground ginger and salt into the bowl. Add the chopped ginger and using your hands, combine all ingredients until the mixture can be formed into a ball. Roll the dough into a log shape, wrap in plastic and leave to rest in the fridge for around 20-30 minutes.

3. Preheat the oven to 170°C/325°F. Remove the dough from the fridge and using a sharp knife, slice 20 evenly thick rounds. Place them slightly apart on the baking sheet.

3. Bake the biscuits for approximately 20 minutes or until firm but not coloured. Take them out of the oven and sprinkle a little caster sugar over them. Leave to crisp up for a few minutes on the baking sheet before transferring them to a wire rack to cool. They keep really well for up to a week in an airtight container, if you can make them last that long!

If ginger isn't your thing, you can leave out the glacé ginger and ground spice and use 50g chopped dark chocolate instead, skipping the caster sugar sprinkled on top. 50g of chopped, unsalted pistachios would also be a great alternative.

Seven days

2011-10-22T07:27:00.000-07:00

In seven days, the sky turned from deepest grey to the lightest blue. Through my parents' visit, I rediscovered the joys of seeing Berlin with fresh eyes, returning to places half forgotten or which somehow fade into the background of everyday life.The heavy drizzle the first day left us cold and wet and after sighing at the enormous queue, the idea of a visit to the Pergammon museum was abandoned and we did what any sane person would; head for Marzipantorte and a large cup of coffee in the plush salon of the (soon to close - sob!) Opernpalais. The whimsical delights of an afternoon screening of Midnight in Paris left me humming Cole Porter and wanting to re-read a Moveable Feast. Some mornings there were a breakfasts of scrambled eggs with chives, dark bread with quark and mini Windbeautel or cream puffs with a view towards Alexanderplatz and the TV Tower with its disco ball. I discovered that from the top of that the trains look like something from a model railway set and the city glides by over lunch as the restaurant turns. There was the pleasure of afternoon tea at Café Einstein where the waiters wear long aprons and the sunlight filters in through half closed blinds. A large portion of borscht at Datcha followed by a warm blini with almond quark and cherries made the perfect autumn dinner. I got used to cooking in the evenings for them, making large pots of pumpkin, cauliflower and tomato soup, with plum crumble or Zupfkuchen for dessert. One of the best things about having visitors is the pleasure of preparing a breakfast table crammed with the most delicious things; fresh rolls, quark, apple and cherry juice, goats' cheese, cheddar, large bowls of porridge and of course, a cake (see below). In the evenings we'd move to the red sofa in the living room with candlelight to watch a Woody Allen film. It was all over much too quickly, and exactly seven days later I found myself once again at Schönefeld saying goodbye. Even if the UK is only a couple of hours away by plane, I'm envious of Berliners who can visit their families on Sundays and wished it could have been one week earlier, even if it would have meant exchanging sunshine for rain. The city seemed somehow emptier when I got back, in spite of the autumn glow that strange, hollow feeling washed over me knowing that I would only be cooking for myself that night. Luckily there was still cake, one with quark, streusel and apples from my parents' garden, the bramley ones that give you stomach ache and are only suitable for cooking. I thought of my dad, making masses of stewed apple from them, of my mum's apple pie with single cream, of the blossom on the tree in the spring and felt glad that at least a part of Derbyshire was in my kitchen.

Early morning at Senefelderplatz

Statue of a socialist worker near Alex

At Schlosspark Charlottenburg

At the Russian memorial on Straße des 17.Juni

The TV Tower and the view from the top

Cheesecake and Sachertorte at Café Einstein

The Jewish memorial

Apple quark Streselkuchen (from Heimwehküche Backen)

For a 26cm springform tin

Streusel

280g all purpose flour

1 tsp baking powder

125g cold butter, cubed, plus some more for greasing the tin

80g sugar

a pinch of salt

1 large egg

Filling

1 kg cooking apples (or non sweet ones like russets)

100g sugar

1 cinnamon stick

250g low fat quark/fromage blanc/curd cheese

2 egg yolks

50g cornflour

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1. To make the dough, sift 250g of the flour and baking powder together into a large bowl. Add the cubes of butter, the sugar, salt and the egg and mix together (you can also do this in a food processor but I find it more satisfying by hand).

2. Grease the springform tin. Take two thirds of the dough and flatten it with the palm of your hand and your fingers to create a base and sides for the cake. Prick with a fork.

3. To make the filling, peel and quarter the apples, discarding the pips. Place the apple quarters, 150ml water, 50g sugar and the cinnamon stick in a saucepan and cook over a low heat for a few minutes until softened but not mushy. Drain the apples and save the cooking juice.

4. Preheat the oven to 180°C. Whisk together the quark with the remaining sugar, the egg yolks and cornflour. Add in 4 tsp cooking juice and mix again. Pour the quark onto the streusel base and scatter the apples evenly over it.

5. To finish, mix the remaining 30g of flour and the cinnamon into the remaining stresel mixture in the bowl until you have large pieces of crumble. Sprinkle over the quark and apples.

6. Bake for 35-45 minutes until golden.

Blue in green

2011-10-02T23:45:00.000-07:00

For me. a journey always begins with a book. Unlike some friends, I'm simply not able to polish off one a day so it has to be good. Chosing it however, isn't always that simple. Hesitating between classics like Hery James' Portrait of a Lady, volumes of short stories by Scott Fitzgerald and Katherine Mansfield, thrillers with Brunetti or Wallender, I was paralysed by the fear of taking something too short which I would finish in a matter of days or something too long which I wouldn't like. Late on a Saturday evening, I pushed open the door to Dussmann's English bookshop to find a group of young students talking excitedly about literature with an Irishman leading the discussion from Martin Amis to Cormac McCarthy. Patiently I strolled along the shelves, opening books and letting my eyes run over sentences at random before I spotted the perfect holiday book, Gerald Durrell's My Family and Other Animals, a memoir about the five years he spent on Corfu and his discovery of the wildlife there. I had his descriptions of the arrival one morning on the Greek island still in my mind as our train pulled into Avignon station where the heat hits you as soon as you open the door and your eyes struggle to focus on a landscape bathed in sunshine. Travelling South means cyprus trees which stand tall like stiff paintbrushes and a sky so blue it can only be a reflection of the sea. It means running your fingers along the twisted trunks of olive trees which have been there for longer than you can imagine, being jostled in French towns on market days among stalls selling garlic, honey and nougat, being swept away by the mistral with the sounds of doors creaking and lavendar shutters banging. On days of wind and rain, there are the churches to shelter in, sometimes of the simplest stone with only a single window and the flickering of candles for light, sometimes elaborate baroque. It means wandering the through the streets of Avignon until you know them like the back of your hand, pausing in the evening to hear someone practising the guitar or catching the snippets of conversation through the open windows. It means eating galettes in a leafy square and stopping at a patisserie for large pistachio macaroons, even if the ones in Arles close to the Place du Forum were still the best. On the last evening, an old man was sitting alone in the shadows as I made my way to the bakery on the boulevard Raspail which sold tarte tatin and the most delicious cake with pistachios and cherries. I thought of how I would miss the light, the colours, the streets so quiet as darkness falls where I could imagine living.

****

Thanks to all of you for your kind comments for my last post. Reading them made me realise how I much I'd miss you if I didn't continue this blog and I apologise for any confusion caused by the title or content. I'll be back with more photos from Provence in a few days.

Hello and goodbye

2011-09-11T13:17:00.000-07:00

My dear readers,

I find it impossible to write this post without feeling guilty. Guilty because if any of you are still kind enough to follow this blog, you'll know that it's been more than a month since my last post. No updates from me and no comments on your blogs either. What can I say? The truth is I just haven't felt much like writing, no longer sure of what I still had to say after more than two years. I found it impossible to sit myself down at the computer, to photograph everything I made and haul my camera around with me whenever I left the house. There's still the rush to capture the deepening colours of the sunset every evening or enjoy the smell of freshly baked cake drifting through the apartment but somehow I wanted to keep it for myself, does that sound terrible? I seriously thought of stopping this blog and wanted to do other things.

There was my birthday party a couple of weeks ago, perhaps the best one ever, with just a few friends, talking and laughing oer red wine and cake until 3am, I saw the new Woody Allen film and caught up with the Kertesz exhibition and have been losing myself in so many wonderful books. Yet I couldn't stop thinking about all of you, how sad it would be without your friendship and comments (the one Holly wrote a couple of days ago especially touched me), those wonderful emails which arrive so unexpectedly but always at the right moments when I doubt myself. So here I am, back again but only briefly because tomorrow I'm starting my journey to Provence. As much as the thought of this excites me, what I'm most looking forward to is sharing my experience here. I hope you can forgive my neglecting you and have the patience to wait a little longer until we meet again.

A something in a summer's day

2011-08-08T02:12:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I feel like getting into a train or bus in any direction and just simply riding off. Movement of this kind inspires me and as strange as it may sound, I read best when travelling. The city still has the ability to surprise me with its buildings and skies and there's also the chance to observe fellow passengers; an Italian talking loudly in English about his numerous conquests, a French girl reading a German newspaper and translating it aloud for her friends, an elderly German lady explaining how her father could never think of how to keep her and her brother amused as children and let them ride on the circle line all day long. Recently though I've had a tendency to retrace my footsteps and go to the same places, partly from fear of disappointment or finding large masses of tourists there. The weather has been a strange mix of wet and warm of late which makes taking photos difficult and uncomfortable. Summer dresses are now accessorised by raincoats and wellies. Last Wednesday though, the only fine day of the week, I felt determined to adventure out a little and try something new. Bright and early, I took the S-Bahn to Priesterweg among all the commuters. When I arrived the platform was empty and I felt a tingle of excitement pushing open the metal gate to the still empty park of the Schöneberger Südgelände where an old trainyard used to be. There are still some tracks overlapping and running into the distance, a steam train stands gleaming in the morning sun and you walk through a series of grey concrete arches that wouldn't be out of place in a De Chirico painting. I wandered alone around a permanent exhibition of metal sculptures and then set off to explore the rest of the park with the gentle rustling of the wind through the trees and the occasional steps of a jogger passing by. Almost a week later and stuck at home with a summer cold, I can still feel the warmth of the sun's rays and see the groups of white butterflies dancing before my eyes.

Back in England, I made my parents a blueberry New York cheesecake that last week, this time an American style one with cream cheese but it's still extremely light thanks to the beaten eggs. You can use cherries or strawberries if you prefer but let's make the most of summer in between the showers and stormy weather.

New York blueberry cheesecake (adapted from Nigella Lawson's How to be a domestic goddess)

For the base:

250g digestive biscuits crushed to fine crumbs
150g unsalted butter, melted
225g plus 3 tablespoons caster sugar
24cm Springform tin

For the filling:

2 tablespoons cornflour
750g cream cheese
6 large eggs, separated
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
150ml double cream
150ml sour cream
½ teaspoon salt
zest of 1 lemon

For the topping

200g fresh blueberries

1 tbsp caster sugar

2 tabsp water

Mix together the crushed biscuits, melted butter and 3 tablespoons of sugar, and press into the base of the Springform tin. Put into the fridge for about half an hour to set.

Preheat oven to 170C. In a large bowl, mix together the remaining sugar and the cornflour. Beat in the cream cheese, egg yolks and vanilla, either by and or using an electric beater. Slowly pour in both creams, beating constantly. Add the salt and lemon zest.

Whisk the egg whites to stiff peaks, then fold into the cheese mixture. Scoop onto the chilled base. Bake for 1-1 ½h without opening the oven door, until the cheesecake is golden-brown on top.

Turn off the heat and let the cake stand in the oven for 2 more hours. Then open the oven door and let it stand for a further hour.

When the time is up, make the topping by placing the blueberries, sugar and water in a saucepan over a low heat until the fruit has burst and the mixture starts to thicken. Pour over the cheesecake and leave to cool.

The last of England

2011-07-31T02:34:00.000-07:00

My first model in the kitchen was, unsurprisingly, my mother. I grew up with the smell of warm bread drifting through the house, ready to be cut into slices and smeared thick with butter and lemon curd. There were the apple pies made with the fruit from our garden, neither too sweet nor too sharp, baked in the lightest, crispest pastry which everyone except me preferred warm with ice cream, whereas I would hang around for some served cold with a generous amount of single cream poured over. Cheese souffles came out of the oven tall and golden, stacks of mince pies awaited hungry Christmas visitors and there was even an English twist on a pizza, made with a pitta bread type dough and finished off under a hot grill. Yet ours was not a household centred around cooking; the things listed above were more for special occasions and weekends. Most of the time meals were made with frozen or packet foods, like fishfingers, vegetarian sausages and petits pois, alongside large portions of fresh fruit and vegetables. If today I prefer to cook differently, that's not to say I disapprove of what we had: reading Nigel Slater's wonderful Eating for England made me realise how fond I am of many staples of British cuisine. Dark chocolate digestives, custard creams, bread and butter pudding, steamed treacle pudding, fish and chips laced with salt and vinegar, large packs of the strongest cheddar and the crumbliest Wensleydale, sticks of rcok bought at the seaside which shatter into thousands of sugary splinters and rot your teeth, baked beans on toast and boiled eggs with soldiers.

Aside from some disastrous home economics courses at school, the idea never came to me of cooking anything myself. I can still recall the look of absolute horror on the teacher's face when she asked if anyone knew how to make hollandaise sauce and I described the process of pouring water over some powder. Then came the day when I opened the Chocolate Book and baked my first real cake with honey. Overcome by fascination at the endless possible variations with just a few ingredients and how each time you ended up with different results, the cake became my passion.

The first ever kitchen to myself was a coin cuisine in the corner of a one room studio on the top floor of a house in Annecy. The landlady lived directly underneath and spent her days worrying about my excessive water consumption, listening every time I had a shower or flushed the toilet to calculate. My cooking skills remained pretty basic though, endless meals of steamed vegetables with cottage cheese followed by a yoghurt and some fruit. In the shared flat in Lyon one day, my French flatmate E. burst out laughing while watching me boil some broccoli. "Alors ca, c'est le cliché anglais! Nous, les français on ne prépare pas des légumes de cette façon mais avec des épices ou avec une sauce." (We French would never cook vegetables like that, but with spices or a sauce). In most ways, he was pretty horrible but I have to admit that he had a good point here.

Quite a few years have gone by since then, my vegetables are no longer boiled or steamed and I cook for myself pretty much on a daily basis, taking the time to enjoy fresh, seasonal flavours. I would never claim to be a great cook; I have the tendency to fall into ruts, living off almost nothing but potatoes a few years back and until recently, a daily diet of pasta, I lack the courage and spontaneity to try different things out. Yet it's also a reflection of the cuisine I grew up with and the fact that I value simplicity. As much as I greatly admire those who have mastered the tricky art of macaroons or eclairs, I have no desire to follow in their footsteps because for me, life is too short for piping bags, spun sugar, homemade croissants and millefeuilles. I think back to the King Rollo books I read as a child, how he was offered the finest kinds of food in exchange for his humble loaf of bread but refused them all. I think I would have done the same.

A walk by Cromford Canal

Last week when I returned, I made Elise's wonderful cherry pie with a lattice crust in true Agent Cooper spirit. You can find the recipe here.

To finish, some more photos from my stay in Derbyshire and a favourite dessert. The recipe for Eton Mess below is one the easiest and best for summer. If you like you can make the meringues yourself but I prefer to buy a small pack to crumble.

Eton Mess (from Nigella Express)

For 4 people

500g strawberries (raspberries also work well)

2 teaspoons caster or vanilla sugar

500ml double cream

4 small meringue nests from a packet

1. Wash, hull and halve the strawberries and then put them into a large bowl.

2. Whip the double cream until it starts to thicken then add the sugar and conitnue whipping until very thick but not too stiff (it should still be soft and a little runny). Spoon over the strawberries.

3. Crush the meringues with your fingers until you have small pieces as well as a little dust then sprinkle over the fruit and cream. With a large serving spoon, gently stir everything together. It doesn't have to be perfectly mixed though, that's the charm of it. Serve immediately.

Summer things

2011-07-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

I wore a summer dress and no tights for my flight to Birmingham, knowing that the sky would probably be heavy with rain clouds when I arrived but it always feels good to find cooler days, even if it means slipping on a cardigan in the evenings. Yet in a strange twist, there was a week of pure English sunshine while a rainy autumn descended upon Berlin. I rediscovered the pleasures of early mornings with the patterns of the sunlight dancing on the kitchen floor and the cats getting up to all kinds of nonsense. The garden smells so fresh walking barefoot over the lawn covered in clover. There were a few lazy afternoons watching Wimbledon, cheering on Federer and Nadal, even if it didn't do much good and walks along winding country lanes where you might find fresh berries if you're lucky.

In a week's time, I'll turn my back on them once more to fly back over the roofs of the German capital, picking out the sights in miniature, wishing someone was there to meet me at the airport to make the transition just a little easier.

Mingus

Jasper

Jacob

Do you hear what I hear Oscar?

Lunch at the bottle kiln

In the Japanese garden

A walk around the reservoir

Returning to Hardwick Hall on a perfect summer's day

A wedding was held in the old Hall

The father of the bride can't watch

A Derbyshire cream tea in the cafe later on

Julie from Booktravellers asked me for more strawberry recipes last time. This was the first cake I made here, simple and very British, all the lightness of a classic victoria sponge with a delicate nuttiness.

Strawberry and almond sponge

For the sponge

125g soft butter
100g caster sugar
3 large eggs
100g ground almonds

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

200g plain flour

1 heaped teaspoon baking powder

2-3 tablespoons milk

To decorate

250ml double or heavy cream

some strawberries, halved

1 teaspoon sugar

1. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees. In a large mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time until completely incorporated. Stir in the vanilla extract followed by the ground almonds.

2. In another bowl, sift together the flour and baking powder and gently add to the wet ingredients, alternating with the milk until you have a smooth mixture that's neither too dry nor too runny.

3. Divide the mixture in between two 9 inch greased and lined sandwich tins and bake in the oven for around 30-40 minutes. Remove and leave the cakes a little in their tins before turning them out onto a cooling rack.

4. When the cakes are completely cool, whip the cream until it starts to become frothy then add the teaspoon of sugar and continue whipping until the cream starts to become very thick but before it turns stiff.

5. Sandwich the cakes together with the cream and some halved strawberries. Repeat for the top layer. The cake is best eaten on the day it's made but you can store it in the fridge if you cover it to stop the it drying out and cream setting too much.

Remember Midsummer

2011-06-26T06:55:00.000-07:00

It lay forgotten at the back of the closet underneath the pile of heavy jumpers but as soon as I put on the blue cagoule, I found myself instantly transported back to Northumberland two years ago, the day spent in Seahouses visiting the Farn Islands when our boat was tossed by the waves and in spite of the grey skies and heavy showers everyone queued for ice cream. I bought the jacket at the National Trust shop along with a puffin (cuddly not real) and a small book on baking. When I returned to Seahouses last sumer, I spent a long moment standing on the jetty trying to engrave the smell of the sea in my memory so that I would always have the experience of being there but it faded almost as soon as the footprints left behind on the beach. It's difficult to explain why but just recently I've been lacking inspiration, feeling my heart yearn for other landscapes. It's always worse on days full of greyness and rain which take me back to my hotel room in Venice last autumn with its richly coloured wallpaper and dusty Murano glass chandeliers where I spent my time reading a book on Canaletto and a biography of Peggy Guggenheim. As strange as it seems, overcast skies and cool breezes are what I find most romantic.

Yet there have been some wonderful moments this past week to open my eyes to the loveliness of Berlin; my friend Kat had her book launch for the exceptional Berliner Chic (review to follow here shortly, promise) at St. George's bookshop in Prenzlauer Berg. Arriving soaked to the skin with shoes full of water after walking through a downpour, it was lovely to be greeted by Kat in her beautiful electric blue dress and sip a glass of wine. The next evening, my friend Gabi kindly took me out for dinner at a wonderful Korean restaurant called Ixthys which is Greek for fish (please don't ask me to explain the name). It's perhaps one of the strangest places I've eaten in, with passages from the Bible written in German on all the walls and also in the menu and a tiny interior with no toilets where you have to share a table with other diners. But the food was exceptional, all prepared fresh and a generous portion of Bim Bam Bap, one of the best meals I've had in Berlin. My only regret was not taking my camera along. Next time though...

Tomorrow then I'll board the plane for Birmingham to spend the summer in England with its showers and sunshine so dear to my heart. There will undoubtadly be strawberries and cream, days spent watching Wimbledon addictively, eating dinner in the garden and reading Tove Jansson's the Summer Book and Aravind Adiga's The White Tiger in the shade of the apple tree.

***

Brunch at Clärchens Ballhaus

Coffee with Christine in Mitte

My summer breakfast of porridge with strawberries

My friend Sasa made an amazing rhubarb fool with brown sugar which you simply must try if you can still find the pink stuff

On Alexanderplatz

On Karl-Marx-Allee

The great man himself...

....and a few communist protesters

The other day while wandering around the stands at the tiny market near where I live, my eyes lit up when I spotted the first blackcurrants of the season, all rich and gleamingly luscious so I decided to try out a recipe for crumble squares with them because to me, nothing is more summery than the crunch of buttery streusel with the sharp juices of fresh fruit. They also freeze amazingly well so you might want to have these ready in advance for when the heatwave arrives. I made some changes to the original recipe though, exchanging white flour for spelt, white sugar for brown decreased the amount of butter and took buttermilk instead of ordinary milk.

Blackcurrant crumble squares (adapted from BBC Good Food 101 Cakes and Bakes)

115g butter, softened

100g natural cane sugar

1 egg

250g spelt flour

1 tsp aluminium free baking powder

125ml buttermilk

200g fresh blackcurrants, destalked

For the crumble

50g natural cane sugar

40g spelt flour

25g cold butter

1. Preheat the oven to 180°C. Grease and line a 23cm square baking tin.

2. Cream the butter and sugar together by hand or with an electric mixer until soft and fluffy. Add the egg then carefully blend in the flour and baking powder, followed by the buttermilk until you have a smooth mixture.

3. Pour the mixture into the tin and smooth out until even. Sprinkle the blackcurrants on top.

4. In another bowl, combine the sugar and flour then rub in the butter until you have large flakes of crumble. Spoon over the blackcurrants and place the tin in the oven for 45 minutes or until the fruit has burst through. Remove from the oven and allow to cool in the tin before cutting into squares.

Dinner for one

2011-06-09T05:55:00.000-07:00

I had a Proustian moment recently when Denise talked about watching the films Reality Bites and Singles on her exquisite blog and I found myself transported back to the early nineties, the times of Friends and Frasier, watching ER and Northern Exposure secretly when I should have been asleep, of wearing Kickers shoes and having permed hair. During the unending summer holidays I would spend afternoons at friends' houses or invite them over to mine and probably spent most time with C. who lived just down the road from the school. She had Asian eyes and very long hair, often worn back in a plait but sometimes loose and crimped. I generally turned up at her house late morning to watch the tennis from Wimbledon and later we walked up to the nearest town to grab a bite from an exotically named place called the Deli. Sometimes though we rented films from the local store and watched them at my house, one of which was Singles. C's mother had warned us against seeing it but I was still keen, especially knowing how much her mother disliked me for being rude whenever I asked for another drink at dinnertime. C. found it stupid, I loved it and ended watching most of it by myself. I dreamed of living in a complex with people like that who you could always hang out with or ask for advice, of being able to dry my laundry in the courtyard and meet guys at rock concerts or at the newstand.

16 years later, I put the DVD into my computer and could remember almost everything, as if time had stood still; Nancy's earrings, the garage door opener, the salad Bridget Fonda makes for herself and her sneezes, Cliff installing the car stereo. I also started thinking about the single life which I've now been living for a year and a half. At the beginning of every new English course, I normally invite my students to ask me questions and dread the almost inevitable "Are you married?" and "Do you have children?". I register their looks or surprise or disappointment and wonder why I let this bother me. Do I look so old that everyone assumes I must have a family? Is there really no other way to live? Do my male colleagues get asked the same things? Being single then is still considered a little desperate or to be pitied as I was reminded one day over lunch with my brother and his wife who pointed out that I shouldn't lose any time settling down since I was almost thirty then argued that I was still too young to know what I wanted when I replied that I didn't want to have a family.

Apart from one long relationship, all my others were short lived so I have often been single. Sometimes I used to worry about being alone, wondering if I should try online dating or imagining how I would meet The One on the journey to work, sitting next to each other at the latest Woody Allen film or reaching for the same volume of French literature in the library. Yet solitude has always been a part of who I am; I grew up almost as an only child since my other half siblings lived elsewhere or had already moved out, I was a loner at school and as I've said before, I need time both with and away from others. A student of mine described how she went from her parents' house straight into her marriage and couldn't imagine spending even one night without her family and looked horrified when I told her about my four days alone in Venice. In the shared flat in Charlottenburg, I dreamed of escaping to my own place amidst all the noise and chaos of my flatmate and her boyfriend but had an image in in my mind of a lonely person spending night after night eating a spaghetti dinner and watching a movie. Wouldn't I miss that interaction and wouldn't living on my own make me more aware of what was missing in my life? Almost a year later, I know neither of those things to be true; I have plenty of friends to spend time with and cook for. Even if I often watch DVDs alone, there's something deeply satisfying about preparing myself good food, not having to care about other people's tastes as I sit in my kitchen savouring the special moment that dinner represents for me. I wouldn't want you to think that my life is perfect; I still have plenty of meltdown moments, wondering which direction to take for the future and getting nervous if everything goes too well. Sometimes I miss cooking for others on a regular basis, of having someone to share things with but I wouldn't want to just be in a relationship in order not to be alone either and know there's nothing sad or pathetic about dinner for one.

My flat, seen from the neighbour's balcony. The kitchen is on the left, the bathroom in the middle and the bedroom on the right.

In Volkspark Friedrichshain

Haus der Statistik, still there awaiting demolition

This sounds a total contradiction but I rarely make one portion meals or desserts, preferring to freeze the leftovers or share with my friends and students. Last week, I finally took the plunge and made Kim Boyce's Olive Oil cake with chocolate chips and fresh rosemary from her book Good to the Grain. All through measuring out the ingredients and mixing, I was sceptical about whether this would be the cake for me. But it truly is as amazing as everyone says and I urge you to try it for yourselves before the hot weather makes it impossible to switch on the oven. I'd even go so far as to say it was one of the best cakes I've ever tasted.

Olive Oil Cake (from Good to the Grain, Luisa posted the recipe here a while back)

Evening at the window

2011-05-31T07:37:00.000-07:00

My relationship with summer has never been easy. While others rush to put on shorts and sandals and spend hours at picnics and barbeques, I find myself desperately trying to stay cool and not get sunburned. Officially the palest person in Berlin with only two skin tones, white and red, my friends look annoyed whenever I take a seat at a café in the shade or worse still, inside. No matter how much people tell me how incredible Berlin is in this season, the hot weather makes me bad tempered and the warmer it gets, the more I long for a summer in England in my parents' garden, eating strawberries and cream and watching the tennis. While others dream of endless parties on the terrace with cool drinks, I struggle to deal with sticky nights and mosquitoes.

Yet this year I find myself enjoying the warmer days more than before, even if I'm not outside for very long. Though summer will never be my favourite season, it's hard to resist a time of year when the tomatoes have flavour once again, when you can smell the strawberries as you wander between market stands, gazing at the piles of fresh asparagus and the cherries. I love to take a moment to watch the changing palette of the sky as the sun goes down and enjoy the luxury of getting up early at the weekend to linger over the first silent moments with a cup of tea. And you, what are your favourite things about summer?

Beautiful skies

Strawberry smoothie - strawberries with kefir milk and rolled oats

In the Bürgerpark last weekend

One of the best things I've done recently was to get my hands on a copy of Heidi Swanson's new book, Super Natural Every Day. Like many others, I was always a fan of 101 Cookbooks but the book really blew me away with such wonderful recipes and I've been using it pretty much every day. It's hard to talk of favourites - millet muffins, baked oatmeal, wild rice casserole and yoghurt biscuits to name just a few - but I have a soft spot for these stuffed tomatoes with couscous and it seems like the perfect summer dish.

Stuffed tomatoes

6 large, ripe tomatoes

115g/ !/2 cup plain yoghurt

1 tablespoon harissa

1 tablespoon olive oil

12 fresh basil leaves, chopped,

2 shallots, minced

fine-grain sea salt

85g wholewheat or barley couscous (I used spelt)

1. Preheat the oven to 180°C. Chop the tops off the tomatoes and scoop out the insides with a teaspoon over a bowl, trying not to cut into the sides. Break up any large chunks. Place the empty tomatoes into a baking dish, greased and big enough to fit them all in.

2. For the filling, mix the tomato chunks, yoghurt, harissa, olive oil, salt, most of the basil and the shallots into a bowl. Test to see if you need more salt or harissa then add in the couscous.

3. Spoon the mixture into each tomato until almost full then bake in the oven for 50-60 minutes or until the couscous is done. Top with the leftover basil.

I'm gonna miss you now that you're gone

2011-05-15T07:41:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure if this is a good time to write a new post. Outside the wind is battering against the windows, scattering the last of the blossom in the afternoon sunshine, cooled by yesterday's rain. I'm feeling a little shattered after just watching the Deer Hunter and unable to focus my mind on anything else. Others had warned me what a harrowing film it is but I still wasn't prepared.

Since my return to Berlin last week I've been lucky to have had plenty of free time to enjoy the late spring in full bloom and bask in the warmth of its rays. An afternoon on the terrace of Café Fleury with Chrissi for coffee and cake, a stroll around Schlosspark Charlottenburg, stopping to read Graham Robb's Parisians underneath a chestnut tree with pink candles and picking up a copy of Henry James' English Hours at Marga Schoeller. Yet there was also sadness knowing that Chrissi and another good friend are moving away soon, that there is so little time left to do and say so much. Like Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung in Wong Kar Wai's In the Mood for Love, I try to prepare myself for their departures and play out the scene in my mind where we say goodbye but deep down I know it isn't really possible.

At café fleury with its gingham tablecloths, patterned cushions and photos of classic French movie scenes.

Capitalism destroys

Keeping cool at Schloss Charlottenburg

In the Schlosspark

Guarding the leaflets outside Marga Schoeller

Yesterday morning, I sat in the living room, reading and also listening to the city wake up through the open window; the footsteps on the gravel, the fragments of distant conversations and the rattling of the tram. I had a desire to sit in the darkened space of the cinema again but decided to cook a Japanese meal in the evening as the delicate beads of raindrops came cascading down. I sometimes wish that things could be as simple and satisfying as the sunlight on the trees or the smell of spices and fresh bread filling the kitchen.

The evening sky from the living room

In The Schlosspark Niederschönhausen

Soba noodles with crispy tofu

Ingredients

85g soba noodles

100g plain organic tofu

1 medium piece of fresh ginger, finely chopped

1 garlic clove

3 spring onions, chopped

80g bamboo shoots (half a jar), drained and cut into thin strips

soya sauce and olive oil for seasoning and frying

1. Begin by cooking the soba noodles in a large saucepan of boiling water for 5-7 minutes, then rinse then in cold water and set aside to drain.

2. Chop the block of tofu up into cubes. Heat some olive oil in a large sized frying pan, add in the tofu and fry on a medium heat until crispy, stirring regularly so it gets evenly brown. Leave to cool.

3. Heat some oil in a wok and stir in the crushed garlic and chopped ginger without letting them brown. Tip in the spring onions and bamboo and stir for a few minutes then add a splash of soya sauce to the wok and leave for another minute or two. Now add the cold soba noodles, stirring them into the vegetables until warm all the way through and finish by adding the tofu.

The sunlight on the garden

2011-05-08T10:13:00.001-07:00

They say that nostalgia is no longer what it used to be but I've never found that to be the case. Waking up each morning and opening the curtains to discover the first rays of sunlight on the grass, watching the squirrels run across the branches of the oak tree outside the kitchen, seeing the hawthorn break or reading in the shadow of the apple tree in blossom, it felt as if I was discovering these places for the first time and had never experienced the spring before. Growing up, the landscape around me appeared tired and familiar and I took its beauty for granted; perhaps it's because of the miserable, wet spring of last year which robbed me of this magic or because I live in a city but I finally realised how much these places mean to me, that they awaken something deep inside that cannot be fully expressed. Some nights when I was awake, I would look down at the garden, silent in the moonlight and wish I could go outside to explore just like the character in Tom Midnight Garden, one of my favourite childhood books.

I returned to the Cromford Canal, the grandeur of Kedleston Hall and Lea Gardens with its stunning rhododendren whose rich colours suggest more Mexico than England and where I wandered further and further into woodland. Most wonderful of all though were the bluebell woods, a spot known only to a few where I've been going since my childhood. As a girl I gathered masses of dandelion clocks, blowing the seeds away into the breeze and I could follow in the traces of my own footsteps along the path into the woods with my eyes closed because I know it so well. Yet nothing really prepares you for the delicate perfume of those special flowers, impossible to describe or the sight of the blue carpet rolled out in front of you.

***

Dear readers, I'm so sorry for being away for so long and want to thank you all for the lovely comments and messages I've received. Somehow being back in Derbyshire made me want to go exploring, rather than sit in front of the computer so I hope you can forgive me. I'm also hopelessly out of touch with others blogs and have missed reading you so I'll be taking some time this week to catch up. Take care.

Mingus

Beneath the apple tree

Jasper

Oscar, enjoying the evening sun

In the bluebell woods

The wonderful flowers at Lea gardens

In the grounds of Kedleston Hall

Archery contest

Kedleston Hall

The hawthorn in bloom

One of the nicest things was also having plenty of time for breakfast every day. Lecia posted this recipe for baked oatmeal on her beautiful blog (from Heidi Swanson's new book which I ordered yesterday). I used fresh blueberries and found it to be one of the most delicious and comforting breakfasts I've ever had.

Und der Tag ist ein Tag den du magst

2011-04-18T22:08:00.000-07:00

* The title could be translated as "a day that you like" but of course it sounds nicer in German.

The day after tomorrow, just three little words but with so much meaning. On Thursday I'll be flying back to Derbyshire to rediscover those familiar places in bloom. As always Berlin manages to be at its most beautiful for my departure and I've been waking up each morning and gazing at the first rays of sun catching the tops of the roofs opposite. The last week was such a whirlwind of activity and I wish I had more time to write more about all that I've done. There was a lunch at the Sarah Wiener restaurant next to the Hamburger Bahnhof where I was served a huge bowl of creamy risotto with wild garlic I couldn't finish and in front of my table, people came to stare at the window displaying the cakes and their eyes lit up. There were two Jacques Demy films at the Arsenal cinema, Potiche with Catherine Deneuve and a German one about the Jewish cemetery in Weißensee which prompted me to make another trip out there on a rather grey morning. Last Sunday while taking the train to Schlachtensee, a lake in the West, we caught sight of a craft fair in Zehlendorf and decided to get out and visit it. Stands with handmade jewellery, blankets, exotic hats and best of all, chocolate with chilli or tonka beans and another selling the most delicious range of mustard, chutney, syrup and so much more. I couldn't resist the bottle of ginger syrup after hearing of how it could be used not only to make tea but also on Streuselkuchen or whipped cream and the young woman selling it won me over immediately after explaining how she would never use margerine instead of butter for baking. After that we caught the last rays of sunshine by the lakeshore, watching the rowing boats go by and stopping for a drink at the (always busy) Fischerhütte. I'll hopefully be back over the weekend to share some recipes with you but in the meantime, have a lovely Easter dear readers.

At the Sarah Wiener restaurant at the Hamburger Bahnhof

My photos of the risotto didn't come out well but I was so hungry that I devoured this delicious wholemeal ciabatta roll with olive oil that the waiter set down in front of me in record time.

The Richard Long exhibition in the hall of the Hamburger Bahnhof

Some of Anselm Kiefer's work

Warhol's Mao

Sleeping video

Joseph Beuys' felt

On the way to the Jewish cemetery

At the market on Mexicoplatz in Zehlendorf

Exquisite chocolate

The lovely stand with Miriam Eva Kebe products, including ginger syrup

...and all kinds of salt

Magnolia in bloom

On Schlachtensee

In the Biergarten of the Fischerhütte

Some already had their first picnic of the season

Rowing boats for rental

To finish, a recipe for buckwheat pancakes I've been dying to try for ages. There's so much chocolate at Easter that I had a longing for something not so sweet before the celebrations begin so I hope you won't mind it's without sugar but in my opinion, the deep flavours of the berries, the tangy sharpness of the apples and wholesomeness of the galette make up for it.

Buckwheat pancakes with berries and apples

180g buckwheat flour

300ml milk

1 egg

a pinch of salt

a little freshly grated nutmeg

a splash of olive oil

For the filling

3 apples, coxes or russets are perfect

200g berries, raspberries, blueberries, red or blackcurrants, strawberries or blackberries or a mix of different kinds

1 cinnamon stick

2 cardammon seeds

2 slices of fresh ginger

50ml water

1. Mix the flour, egg, salt, nutmeg and half of the milk together in a bowl until you have a smooth batter. then beat in the remaining milk and the splash of olive oil. Leave to thicken for 30 minutes.

2. To prepare the filling, peel and chop the apples and place them in a small pan with the berries and all other ingredients and leave to simmer for around 20 minutes.

3. Make the pancakes by first coating a small frying pan lightly with neutral oil like sunflower then heat until sizzling hot and pour in 1-2 tbsp of the batter. Cook for a couple of minutes until golden then flip it over. Serve with the warm fruit.

Nobody belongs here more than you

2011-04-11T12:22:00.000-07:00

There have been many long nights when I lay in bed, tossing and turning, pursued by demons which I struggled to keep from the door. Sometimes because of a particular problem, other times because of fundamental questions going round in my head about the kind of life I lead and whether I would really ever achieve anything. I worry about the instablilty of the future, about not being qualified to do anything else, about having no talent to produce anything artistic. I'm often suspicious of happiness, knowing that with a blue sky must also come dark clouds, that both sides are necessary. That doesn't mean I'm a gloomy person, far from it, but simply that I'm cautious and prefer not to push my luck, even if it means missing out. Recently though I've managed to sleep well, knowing that everything looks better in the morning after a cup of tea. There's still the dilemma of what to do in the long-term but that's something that will always be with me, the demon that refuses to go away.

Last Sunday morning I got up early before the church bells had rung, making my way through quiet streets to the nearby Bürgerpark and to the row of cherry blossom trees behind Wollankstraße S-Bahn station which I discovered last year. The emotion was no less great though as I took my time, wandering from tree to tree, walking over their petals scattered on the ground in different shades of pink. I have no idea how long they've been there but I like to think of them springing up after the Wall fell whose border that strip of land must have marked, such beauty and delicacy after such ugliness.

In the park outside where I live

Close to Winterfeldplatz where there is always a stunning array of tulips

Last Sunday afternoon, I finally got a chance to meet up with with the lovely Kat who's staying in Berlin until summer. Sipping a large milky coffee in a cool place selling 50s and 60s memorabilia, I felt I had met a kindred spirit and am already looking forward to the next few months. We headed over to the Akademie der Künste (Academy of Arts), close to the Brandenburg Gate, to hear some prominent people in the theatre reminisce about GDR poet and writer Heiner Müller, in between extracts of his reading. There was the clinking of teacups against saucers, a woman whose baby in a striped suit crawled under the chairs clutching a crayon and the man next to me who continually asked me to spell German names I hadn't heard the first time. From the large glass windows of the auditorium, I could see the sun setting on the Brandenburg Gate, pick out the isolated figures of visitors in the Reichstag dome and see the chairs on balconies of the modern building oppsite. I wondered how all this had looked before reunification, that the Berlin I know must be so different from the people we were listening to and realised once again that such a divided and complex city reflects who I am, pulled in conflicting directions, haunted by the past and forever searching for a way to move forward but then again, I wouldn't want it any different.

Waiting for the sun

At Café Sorgenfrei in Schöneberg

Guess who?

Cool retro stuff you can buy

After the 5 Uhr Tee at the Akadamie der Künste about Heiner Müller

The Quadriga on the Brandenburg Gate in the evening sun

Chocolate chip shortbread

A final cookie recipe I found on Mingou's blog, originally from Pascale Weeks. Of all the cookies I've made, these might be the most popular, even making the most hardline dieters weak at the knees or prompting some readers to accuse me of trying to kill them by posting the photo above. But they're so easy that there's no reason why you can't also make your own. The original recipe calls for chocolate chips but I'm not too happy with the quality of the chocolate used in the supermarket ones so preferred to chop my own chocolate into chunks.

For about 40 shortbreads

300g flour

100g brown sugar

200g very soft butter

40ml milk

100g chocolate chips or chocolate chopped into chunks (see above)

1. Pour the flour and sugar into a large bowl and combine. Add in the butter cut into rough cubes and mix in with your fingers.

2. Add the milk and the chocolate and mix again until the dough forms a ball.

3. On a worktop sprinkled with flour or covered with some greaseproof paper, roll the dough so it forms a long sausage shape around 3.5cm in diameter. Wrap in clingfilm and chill in the fridge for at least half an hour.

4. When the time's up, remove the dough from the fridge, preheat the oven to 180°C. With a sharp knife, cut the dough into slices about 1cm thick and place them on a lined baking sheet. Place in the oven for around 10 minutes or until the edges begin to turn pale golden. Leave to cool on the baking sheet.

Down in the street below

2011-04-05T08:46:00.000-07:00

Lost in a constant stream of travellers and families reuniting, I wondered how we would find each other but as the platform became a little emptier and thanks to a short phone call, a figure in a white trenchcoat came towards me, both familiar from her blog yet still unkown. The small grey suitcase was stuffed full of wonderful presents from Austria. Manner Schnitten (wafers filled with hazelnut cream) which brought back memories of my brief time in Linz when I went into the supermarket and bought them for the first time. Delicious Staud jam which made me rediscover the charm of the Austrian names (Weichsel instead of just Sauerkirschen or sour cherry and Marille instead of Aprikose or apricot); some intriguingly named Kater tea with a black cat on the tin (Kater means both male cat and hangover in German) and some addictive savoury biscuits with Bergkäse (Austrian Alpine cheese) and cumin seeds.

The kitchen was filled with the smell of pizza and fresh thyme that first evening and on the second of an omelette with chives and blue stilton, and yes, it was just as good as in her video. I admired her ability to break eggs with just one hand like Audrey Hepburn does in Sabrina and read a whole book in a day.

Sunlight poured down onto the market on Karl-August Platz where I returned for the first time since leaving Charlotttenburg. Bunches of fresh asparagus and the pinkest and thickest rhubarb I have ever seen were presented proudly over the different stands. The strawberries were also back but I couldn't smell them and have it on good authority that you shouldn't buy them until you can. Masses of tulips in all varieties and colours, cherry blossom, jars of exotic sounding honey and freshly pressed juice. Afterwards, there was lunch at Rogacki of Matjes, or salted herring in Hausfrauen sauce and later coffee and cake at the charming café Ottenthal in Knesebeckstraße which seemed to specialise in Austrian treats (if you go there, please choose the creamy cheesecake over the rather dry Linzer Torte) and served Latte Macchiato with a huge amount of froth.

It seemed too soon to say goodbye early on Sunday morning when the first rays of golden light were beginning to pierce the grey cloud and I thought with sadness of the brunch we could have had and the visit to the flea market afterwards. Later that night heavy rain washed away the last traces of that early summer weekend when the trees turned green overnight and every inch of grass in the park was occupied by Berliners and tourists starved of sunshine throughout the long winter and keen to soak up every minute of it.

At the crêpe stand

Baklava

Feinkost honey and juice

In the Bürgerpark in Pankow

It was too late to take photos of the pizza or omelette so I can only offer you another one of the Linzer Torte I made yesterday using the recipe I already posted (just one slight modification as I halved the amount of icing sugar, taking 100g instead of 200 and found it didn't make any difference to the taste). I'm looking foward to returning to the cherry trees in blossom near Wollankstraße, waking up to birdsong, finally taking a trip out to Rheinsberg and discovering its castle and eating my first ice cream of 2011 if the queue isn't too long.

Herzgrün

2011-03-30T00:54:00.000-07:00

We took our seats close to the front, still bundled up in thick winter coats and gloves in spite of the sun and the fact that spring is officially here. The seat next to the microphone was soon occupied by a young woman with her hair put back into a chignon, wearing a long ruffled skirt and knee high boots, perching an accordeon on her knee, one half of Duo les Gosses. As the first notes sounded, her friend rushed in from the back to greet her and began to sing. Dressed in a simple black dress with a red neckerchief and dark bobbed hair, she took us on a journey through the streets of her city where people go out dancing late, where the customer you have been longing to talk to comes and sits in front of you, about her heartbroken friend Lucien who felt suicidal. And then there were the songs of Edith Piaf which sometimes made us smile and sometimes feel sad. Next up was the Jeanette Hubert band whose lead singer strummed on her guitar, smiling at us all the time and singing songs in English about Sunday mornings and those little moments that make life special. Images came to my mind of San Francisco and the ocean which my friend Sabine had just been telling me about. The longer the concert went on, the more the music mingled with the delicious smell of hyacinths. There was a pang in my heart at the announcement of the last song, knowing that the festival was drawing to a close. This was my fourth year at the Herzgrün Liebeslieder festival, an event very few people seem to know about but maybe that's a good thing to keep it intimate. For the first time my good friend Chrissi couldn't be there but I didn't want to miss the burst of colours and songs. Some things never change; the man in the green felt suit sitting in the white tent in charge of handing out the precious tickets, the announcer who reads the favourite love poem of the artists at the start, the strange mix of people in the audience, including the woman in a large hat, secured with a pin and her friend who seem to go to every concert. As we came out, still shivering, there was the sound of the rock concert in the opposite greenhouse drifting up towards the high roof and filling the Sony Center all around. The food there is unfortunately geared towards the tourists, pretty bad quality and overpriced so we headed to Nollendorfplatz instead for an Indian meal at Amrit with yogi tea, curry with large servings of rice and bhatura bread which burns your fingers and leaves them greasy. Warm once again, I walked back to the underground station, listening to the birds singing and hoping the rest of spring will be as good as this.

Duo les gosses

Jeanette Hubert and her band

At Viktoria-Luise Platz

Salad for dinner

To finish, yet another cookie recipe and yet again from Mingou but they were so popular with my students, it doesn't seem right not to share the recipe with all of you.

Lemon meltaways (original recipe from Mingou here)

Makes around 30 biscuits

16og very soft butter

125g icing sugar, plus some extra for coating the biscuits

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

zest of an untreated lemon

2 teaspoons lemon juice

260g flour

20g cornflour

a pinch of salt

1. In a larg bowl, mix together the butter, icing sugar, lemon zest and vanilla until smooth and creamy.

2. Add the lemon juice and salt and mix in.

3. Pour in the flour and cornflour and blend again until fully absorbed.

4. Divide the dough in half and roll each half into a sausage shape of around 4cm in diameter. Place in the fridge for at least 2 hours, or in the freezer for 15 minutes (I chose the latter).

5. Preheat the oven to 180°C. Remove the rolls of dough and cut them into round shapes of around 1cm in thickness. Place on a baking sheet lined with greaseproof paper and bake for about 10 minutes. When they're ready and fully cooled, coat them with some icing sugar.

They can be stored in an airtight container for up to a week.

Shades of grey

2011-03-22T08:18:00.000-07:00

Berlin sometimes seems to reveal itself in shades of grey, from the thick clouds that gathered in the morning, the structures of some of the buildings and later the silvery rays of the moon, bright enough to illuminate my apartment when I tiptoed through it in the early hours of the morning. Sunday began with an early start, walking briskly to the nearby underground station to catch a train to Alexanderplatz. Almost the whole of last week had been full of raindrops and large puddles in the streets making it impossible to take photos outside. I had been wanting to have one last glance at the Haus der Statistik, soon to be torn down to make way for a modern housing complex and a shopping centre. It has a reputation for scaring the drivers who enter the nearby tunnel and for obvious reasons. A large imposing building with streaked windows which crows peck at, boarded up entrances and barbed wire, a decaying ruin of the place where men in grey collected information about their citizens for the East German government. It's not a place you could ever love, yet I couldn't help feeling sad at the thought of it making way for something equally ugly and heartless. Abandoned for three years, it apparently no longer meets the requirements of a modern office building so it perfectly fits the plans of a government keen to erase all traces of the old East. A coffee cup still remains on the side where a shop selling Russian products called Natascha's once was. Looking up, I can still pick out the neon strip lighting on the ceiling and am mesmerised by the endless lines of venetian blinds that cover most of the windows. I imagine the masses of empty stacks which once contained so many files which their creators must have hurriedly tried to shred when news filtered through that the Wall had fallen, people who believed that "Feind ist, wer anders denkt", the enemy is the one who thinks differently.

Eventually I turned my back to this building, knowing it may be the last time I ever see it and walked towards Unter den Linden. The gleaming disco ball of the TV Tower was hidden in the clouds, the figures of dry Neptune fountain seemed even more naked without their veil of water splashing over them and the benches all around were deserted. This was one of the first places I visited in Berlin, making my way past the elegant buildings of Berlin's most famous street, the old fashioned and deliciously kitsch Opernpalais where I once had coffee with Abbie and chose from one of the huge selection of Viennese Torten in the glass case, the beautiful library, nicknamed the Kommode because of its ressemblance to a chest of drawers and the Opera house, now closed for refurbishment where I saw Péléas et Mélisande. Pushing aside the thick green curtain of Café Einstein (not to be confused with Einstein Kaffee, the chain), I left the greyness behind and took my place beside the window and the slits of its half opened blinds. It was still early and the tourists hadn't yet arrived. Opposite a middle aged man with glasses was finishing up the last of his breakfast; croissants, jam, fresh orange juice, coffee and the group of people on the next table were discussing whether it would be wrong to eat cake before midday before deciding on the famous Apfelstrudel. I did the same and ordered a tall glass of latte macchiato to go with it. The piece of strudel turned out to be the most indecently large I've ever had and the coffee was just perfect. What I love about this place is not only the atmosphere of a real coffee house where people read newspapers on wooden clamps in different languages and you sit on brown leather chairs, but also the fact that everyone is friendly, even at busy times. I remember my first and only visit to Les Deux Magots in Paris where I was greeted with contempt by the waiter. After drinking an overpriced hot chocolate under the watchful gaze of the wooden Chinese figures who give the café its name, and asking for the bill, I then had the nerve not to leave him an extra tip in addition to the service charge already included. He looked down at the exact amount I had put on the silver tray and excalimed "Formidable!" very loudly. I left and vowed never to return.

Karl Marx Allee

An old East German mural

Haus der Statistik

Everything must go

Haus des Lehrers

Unter den Linden

Die neue Wache

The Kommode library

Café Einstein

The famous Apfelstrudel

I finished the day in the Bar jeder Vernunft where Abbie had kindly invited me to see the wonderful Pigor and Eichhorn. Outside lines of pale lights were strung up between the bare branches of the trees in the twilight, still cold even in March. We managed to get seats close to the front and had a supper of breaded herring with Bratkartoffeln and the charmingly named Schnuckeldönschen, canapés on pumpernickel bread in the warmth of the marquee before the show started. Sundays should always be this good.

Bar jeder Vernunft

Schnuckeldönschen

Molly's wonderful oatmeal pancakes

If you can't have breakfast at Café Einstein, you could always make Molly's oatmeal pancakes which are the perfect start to Sunday and later on, you also make Mingou's amaretti which I took for my students last week. No other biscuits have ever disappeared so fast.

Mingou's amaretti (original recipe in French here)

2 egg whites

a pinch of salt

175g ground almonds

50g flour

150g icing sugar

2 drops of bitter almond extract

icing sugar for coating the biscuits

Preheat the oven to 180°C

1. In a large bowl, beat the egg whites with the pinch of salt. When they start to become stiff, add the icing sugar gently so you get a mixture like meringue.

2. When the meringue is smooth and shiny, stir in the flour and ground almonds with a spatula until the mixture is homogenous.

3. Add the bitter almond extract.

4. Mix again until the dough forms a ball.

5. With a teaspoon to help you, form little round biscuits and dip them in an another bowl with icing sugar, passing them from one hand to the other to get rid of the excess sugar.

6. Put them on a baking sheet covered with non stick paper, at least 2cm apart and flatten them a little.

7. Bake in the oven at 180°C for around 10 minutes; the amaretti will be slightly brown. The biscuits should be crunchy on the outside and chewy in the middle.

Die Schwelle des Traumes

2011-03-15T08:05:00.001-07:00

It seems like a total insult to write about food when you only have to see the newspaper headlines to feel a sadness in your heart about the situation in Japan. Two friends I had fallen out of contact with who live in Tokyo described the horror of seeing the buildings swaying around them last week. Unable to concentrate on daily life, they have retreated to the mountains for a few days. I feel terribly helpless but all we can do is give a little and continue to watch the nightmare unfolding, hoping it will end soon.

So no recipes but in the meantime, here are some pictures from last Sunday in Treptower Park when the water was calm and silvery grey. I have always had a fascination with water, the way it ebbs and flows like life itself, never returning to same place and yet at the same time it frightens me with its power and strong currents which threaten to drag me under. I managed to get up early to capture the silence and beauty of one of my favourite places when the day was so mild and I could sit outside to read Patti Smith. Peeking through some holes in the fence at the long abandoned Spreepark, the old East German amusement park, I glimpsed ticket kiosks with broken glass, rollercoasters left to rust, overgrown fairground attractions and trainlines going nowhere. Waking up early yesterday, I opened the window to breathe in the smell of damp grass and hear raindrops falling; had it all been just a dream?

Some of the attractions at the old Spreepark

Winter light

2011-03-11T07:25:00.000-08:00

I can't remember what I was doing that back in July 2007 when both Ingmar Bergman and Anonioni died on the same day or even how I heard the news; perhaps a newspaper headline or through my Mum. I only remember thinking of what Billy Wilder said when Fellini died, that now there would be no more Fellini films. I especially felt their passing because The Seventh Seal and L'Avventura were two of the first films I saw when I began to really take an interest in cinema. Often I keep my admiration for Bergman to myself because of the fear that people will think I'm serious and miserable, unable to simply enjoy anything mainstream which isn't true. At university, I'd always ask Swedish students if they liked him and be disappointed when my question was met with rolled eyes and a groan. Last Friday after watching Wim Wenders' Pina (you can find my post on it here), I decided to finally see the exhibition on Bergman at the Museum für Film und Fernsehen (Museum for Film and TV) which was a stone's throw away from the cinema.

The rooms were fairly empty on a Friday afternoon but secretly I felt glad. Going in you come across costumes from various films directed and written by him - Smiles of a Summer Night, the Seventh Seal, the Best Intentions and a monitor with headphones where you can see various interviews. Under the watchful eye of the museum attendant, I felt a little self-conscious at first, standing there listening to Swedish while music from the title credits of Fanny and Alexander played overhead. Throughout the exhibition there are large screens where you can sit and watch clips - the intense blue eyes of Liv Ullman are she describes being tormented by her mother and husband in Scenes from a Marriage, Viktor Sjöstrom examining his wife as part of his medical examination in Wild Strawberries, Ingrid Bergman discussing her earliest childhood memory while rehearsing Autumn Sonata, Harriet Andersson undressing in Summer with Monika. I rediscovered the ebb and flow of the water, the ticking of the clocks, the brutality of the midday sun, the red rooms that are the leitmotivs of his oeuvre which is sometimes repulsive, sometimes beautiful . My favourite room was perhaps the one made up entirely of large screens on each wall, each showing different scenes. There were also surprises; an advert for soap made while he was young with actors dressed up in aristocratic costumes and explaining how the people in the 18th century couldn't have smelled good; letters from Woody Allen and Billy Wilder; a photo of Bergman with Ang Lee.. Most of all the exhibition made me want to go to Sweden more than ever, to experience for myself the nights when the sun doesn't set, the deep forests and the waves crashing on the shores of Fårö.

Cries and Whispers

***

After finishing work on Tuesday, I walked by the river Spree from Treptower Park to Alex via Kreuzberg with the sky turning pink and gold, stopping off in a café whose name I no longer remember for a coffee. Before that there was a walk in the Bürgerpark close to where I live, sitting outside for a hot cholcoate while children cycled and played ball games nearby. I'm going to miss the golden crispness of the winter light.

The Landwehrcanal

In the Bürgerpark in Pankow

Finally, if you have time, I can really recommend making Suzy's wonderful tomato, fennel and goat's cheese tart (recipe here) and Heidi's delicious Swedish rye cookies (click here). Have a great weekend!

Blog anniversary

2011-03-06T22:20:00.000-08:00

Dear readers,

Today the blog is two years old and that feels like a big number, even if it isn't much compared to my age. Yet at the same time, I feel as if I've only scratched the surface; despite my four years in Berlin there's so much I haven't discovered yet and so much I have to learn about baking and also taking pictures. Buying my first SLR camera last spring and moving into my own place at last were definitely the biggest developments and they've really made a big difference. It's wonderful knowing that on coming home I can simply close the door behind me without having to face a noisy flatmate and cook myself something nice in the kitchen whenever I want. Berlin seems more and more like home and I'm so lucky to live here. The best thing about the last year though was the contact with all of you in comments, emails and also reading your blogs so I'd like to thank you for taking time to read my (very long) posts, often in a language which isn't your own. I have a tendency to be embaressingly sentimental so won't say too much, only that I consider you as friends, not just readers.

To celebrate, I've added the pictures my my trip to Birkenwerder last week (recommended by Sylee) on a frosty but golden day when I got lost in the woods and also a recipe for Mingou's chocolate crinkle biscuits which I finally got around to making. Here's to another year of cakes!

Waiting for the S8 at at Pankow station

Mingou's Chocolate crinkle biscuits from La peau d'ourse (you can find the recipe in French here)

Makes 30 biscuits

40g dark chocolate

20g neutral oil (sunflower, rapeseed or a mix)

1 small teaspoon of instant coffee (not too strong)

50g caster sugar

1 tbsp vanilla sugar (or a sachet)

2-3 tbsp golden syrup (or glucose syrup or honey if it's not too rich)

2 egg whites

140g plain flour

80g icing sugar

30g unsweetened cocoa

1 1/4 tsp baking powder

1 big pinch of salt

50g icing sugar for coating the biscuits

1. Melt the chocolate in the microwave or in a small saucepan. Add the oil and mix.

2. Stir in the instant coffee and mix (off the heat). Leave to cool slightly then add the caster sugar, salt, the golden syrup and the vanilla sugar. Mix with a metal spoon until absorbed.

3. Pour in the egg whites and whisk vigourously to prevent pockets of mixture forming. Eventually, you will have a smooth consistency.

4. Sift together the flour, icing sugar, cocoa and baking powder in a separate bowl. Add it little by little to the egg mixture and blend with a spoon, remembering to scrape down the sides of the bowl. It will seem very crumbly and dry at the beginning but you'll end up with a smooth dough.

5. Wrap in clingfilm and leave in the fridge for two hours, not longer otherwise the dough isn't as easy to work with.

6. Preheat the oven to 180° and line two baking sheets.

7. Sift in the remaining icing sugar into a large bowl. Take around a teaspoonful of dough and roll it between your hands to make a ball. Dip it into the icing sugar so it's thoroughly coated and flatten it a little in your palm. Place onto the lined baking sheet at least 5cm apart and bake for 8-9 minutes until they're cracked and just beginning to turn darker

8. Leave to cool for a couple of minutes on the baking sheet before transferring them with a spatula to a cooling rack.