Britta's Letters from her life divided between city-life in German's capital Berlin and life in a Bavarian village
Saturday 30 March 2013
Biedermeier Currant Bread
You need an iron constitution to get over so many festivities as in the last four months. So: Happy Easter!
When I came back from a wonderful weekend in Munich (happy that each time the flights were only one hour late because of the snow), I had to enter the place where in ye olde days a woman had her place: the kitchen.
Son & DiL had hinted politely but firm that they were longing for the annual "Biedermeier Korinthenbrot" - a speciality that it is so called because it is modest (not too much sugar, not too many currants - though I throw a few more into it :-) and aromatic (by vanilla sugar and lemon peel, but - you guess it already: not too much).
The bread as such does not look modest: it is enormous, shockingly voluptuous (no, I didn't mean volumnious, which it is too) :
I always cut it in two parts - and half of it goes to Munich.
But I have to plan like a Prussian: on Good Friday (almost) nobody is working.
And the post nowadays is not as reliable as it - once upon a time - had been. So: if I take the risk and send the Easter-Bread on Thursday it might happen that it will not arrive on Saturday - and then - oops - they will get an After-Easter-Bread; because Sunday and Monday (almost) nobody is working.
(Crumbly dry cake reminds me of of a typical story fabricated by my sweet grandma - the working(wo)man - : with the best intentions she sent my father a parcel with home-baked cake from Göttingen, Germany, in war-time, to Madagascar, his first POW-station before England. It took some time... :-).
So I baked on Wednesday. Packed it. Paid extra postage to be sure that it will arrive in time.
And - after a few difficulties too laborious to tell (here I cut the story, not only the bread) it arrived in good condition.