Yesterday evening we arrived at the Michigan house ready for an atypical pre-Christmas week with very little on the calendar. This morning I was greeted by therapeutic, frozen stillness so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. A thin layer of ice covered the placid lake, and mounds of leftover crusty snow banked the house. Winter is definitely more winterish here than in Lafayette, Indiana.
As I type this blog entry (10:30 a.m.) views from outside seem cold and Christmasy while the inside of our little house is toasty and full of aromatic rich/buttery/fruity smells. An experiment currently bakes in the oven – an attempt to reproduce a treat cited by my friend Helga in her memoirs of post-WW II Germany.
On special occasions the pastor and various friends from church showed up for all-night prayer vigils in the abandoned barracks where Helga lived as a child. Tante (Aunt) Emma sometimes made a yeasted cake to honor these guests, something topped with a thick egg custard, fruit (in my case stripes of cinnamony apples, cherries, and a mixture of peaches/blackberries), and a crumbly streusel topping. After finding a recipe for a yeasted German cake online, I added custard I made in my double boiler, fruit, and the streusel I use on my Dutch apple pie as a mock-up of Tante Emma’s creation. Hopefully it will turn out to be a first cousin to Tante Emma’s cake, and will be an unexpected Christmas surprise for Helga and her husband, Dieter.
Later today I’ll get together with Helga to present the fresh-off-the-press copies of her memoirs we’ve been working on since this time last year. It feels like a momentous occasion – one marking a personal goal for Helga (to see her history in print) and for me (to be inspired to use whatever writing skills I’ve been given to serve others).
(P.S. At 11:15 the cake is out of the oven, and looks and smells heavenly!)
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