Next I got a few potatoes boiling.
And then I melted some chocolate in a double boiler.
From there, I separated some eggs and sifted flour. Notice the cherry brandy in the background…
I was feeling too lazy to go get my mixer so I just did everything by hand. Instead of adding vanilla extract, I gave the batter a liberal douche of the cherry brandy. I bought it months ago for a recipe and only used a couple tablespoons then so it's gotta get used up somehow. Besides, it was just sitting there tempting me. In addition, we have a bit of chocolate liqueur about too so I put some of that in there. Here's the batter just before the eggs whites got folded into it.
When all was mixed, I poured the batter into a springform pan and threw it in the oven. I then began on the next item – the spätzle. I decided to cook it ahead of time and reheat it in hot water just before serving. This would make things easier. I made the batter and headed down to the basement to grab the spätzle hoolie I inherited from my father when he passed.
It was the first time I'd used it and memories of helping him make spätzle a few years ago came to mind as I ran the funnel across the grater. Here they are cooking to light, fluffy perfection.
The Dulcinea was supposed to have come over at 7:30 but was nowhere to be found. I called her cell and left a message. And so I continued to make a big mess and prep the schnitzel. The breasts were pounded; the egg wash and breading were laid; and I brought out my largest frying pan. Oh, and I had another brew.
During the wait, the torte had cooled sufficiently and I cut it in half. I'd decided to do a cherry and whipped cream filling. Again I was too lazy to grab my mixer from the basement so I whipped the cream by hand. For the cherry bit, I decided to use some of this cherry jam I'd bought at Alex Polish American Deli. While not German, it was close enough. I mean, Poland was occupied by the Germans, right?.
Perhaps jam isn't correct – more like preserves. It was full of whole cherries. It's really good stuff and isn't very sweet, which I liked. The batter had almost a pound of butter in it and sugar plus there'd be more sugar in the whipped cream. I didn't want it to be a massively sweet thing so I tried to get it so that each part of the torte was only slightly sweet so, when they were put together, you'd get something that was moderately sweet but wouldn't instantly cause a cavity. In addition, I threw some of the cherries that I had preserved in brandy into the mix for a little sumpin' extra.
I threw the torte together and put it in the refrigerator. The Dulcinea finally called, saying that she had lost track of time and was on her way. When she arrived, I melted the lard and started a-fryin'!
There was a recipe in the new German cookbook for Schnitzel a la Holstein which involved putting a fried egg on top of the schnitzel along with a couple anchovies as well as capers. I didn't have any anchovies and I don't particularly care for them so I did my own variation. I laid a slice of spiced bacon roll atop the schnitzel and then the egg followed by capers. Like the preserves, the bacon also came from Alex Polish American Deli. I'm not really sure if the stuff is strictly Polish or not. I can say that the little sign next to it in the deli case didn't give a Polish name, just the English one. Still, it's pork and Germans & Poles both have a predilection for all things porcine. To round things out, I buttered sourdough rye bread and embellished the plate with some of the bread & butter pickled squash that I canned last summer. Here's The Dulcinea's plate:
Here's mine along with some beer in a stein that my dad got when he was stationed in Germany in the late 1950s:
I thought that everything turned out well. The spätzle was all light'n'fluffy as it should be. The schnitzel was quite tasty and I loved how the lemon just added that little something extra and different to the rest of the flavors. Admittedly, I ate my fill but The Dulcinea went that extra mile. She'd drunk too much coffee during the day and had an upset tummy but, trooper she is, she kept at it and ate even when he gullet cried "No!". With my plate cleared, I dug into the torte.
I know it's not a great picture but it's the only one I have, at the moment. It turned out really great! My sugar rationing did the trick as it wasn't too sweet but remained very flavorful and rich. The marriage of the chocolate and cherries was consummated in my mouth. My slice had a bit of brandied cherry and biting into it, I was greeted with a bit of a bite. They're potent, alright!
This morning I thumbed through the cookbook once again looking for breakfast fare. The Kaiserschmarren (Emperor's Pancakes) sounded tasty so I went with them, much to my arteries' chagrin.
The first thing I did was to get some dried cherries soaking in brandy.
Next, I whipped up the batter and made the cakes. They are supposed to be very thin – like crepes.
Once they were done, I cut them into small rectangles and kept them warm in the oven. I then melted a whole stick of margarine. I know, I know – what the fuck was I doing with margarine? Well, I was out of butter so it had to suffice. With it melted, I drained the cherries and added them as well as some cinnamon.
I then added the pancakes pieces. From here, one is supposed to dump a whole cup of sugar on it and toss. However, I only used about half a cup. I tossed it so that everything was coated in a gooey mixture of buttery, cinammony, cherry goodness and then served.
Now, when I had come down to start making breakfast, Becca was just beginning to serve pancakes and bacon for herself and Stevie. But when they The Dulcinea's and my plates, they were intrigued. I let them sample it and they were impressed enough that Stevie gleefully went into the kitchen and got a plateful for he and Becca to share.
I think that these two meals provided enough calories to sustain a draft horse. At least my arteries are now well lubricated. I'm not sure what German fare I'll make next but The Dulcinea is itchin' for some Hasenpfeffer. In the meantime, I'm gonna have to eat a country ton of granola.
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