Connecting through Frankfurt airport I did not discover a store filled with caviar (like in Zurich airport) but I did discover something much handier for airplane travel and bad-movie watching for 8 hours–ginger-lemon gummies! The man at the sales counter who spoke only German pointed to the pack and said “spicy” just to warn me of what I was getting into, but I smiled and hugged the pack to my chest to show my delight. Only then could he smile back and wish me a “happy trip”.
Now, first off, you should know I love gummi candy. And I think this Haribo brand rocks. Especially their mango gummies which I discovered only a month ago in Toronto. Their simulated mango flavour is divine.
So I could only be more pleased to have these ginger ones be also labelled “wellness gums” as you see on the package. Who needs Buckley’s for a cough and cold? Or even Cold FX?
I also love that they have real ginger root on the pack. Makes it seem kind of local and artisanal, no? Farmer’s market-ish almost.
Dappled in sunlight it’s almost like I picked them fresh from a tree.
I hope one day you all get out to Frankfurt airport and get yourselves some of these. For now, since it is my birthday I have been eating them since 7am.
Birthday cake in Prague made by my cousin Jana. My nephew loved it and he has named the cake, “The Chocolate”.
Now excuse me while I spend the rest n my day on-line at the Haribo Fun-Planet. First stop: Sour S’ghetti Station.
I find it harder to have your cake and not eat it.
Sometimes things just click. When your babysitter brings a Stubbe’s Lemon Torte to your house you know you chose the right caregiver. We picked Donna to babysit Felix after a rigorous vetting process investigating which dessert shops she frequented in Toronto.
Cake fits any occasion–a quick lunch, after a bikini wax or as a sympathy gift. No one will know who sent what bunch of smelly lilies to a funeral but your chocolate cake gift basket will stand out like the beacon of plastic-wrapped comfort food that is is.
And let’s face it, attendance would soar. Next time I fantasize about who’s coming to my funeral I’m going to imagine myself in an open coffin with my hands arranged to hold a large chocolate Krispy Bunny. I think it will get more kids motivated to participate. Nibbles encouraged.
Stupid Lemon Tart with Gooseberries
“You are such a jerk,” I yelled out at Mario Batali’s cookbook photo (but with more use of the word asshole) as the almond crust dough from his lemon tart recipe crumbled in my hands. I actually love this recipe for its lemon filling. It’s like making a lemon curd but then you lighten in with whipped egg whites. But whenever I go to make it I have that little “itch” in the back of my mind reminding me that something is going to make me livid. For one thing, the quantity of crust is way too big for the 9″ tart pan (in my opinion) and secondly, it never comes together–if you x-rayed this dessert-you’d find a patchwork quilt of dough pieces which would mirror the fragmented state of my pie sanity.
And what’s up with ambiguous instructions like, “the juice of three lemons”? Big lemons, little lemons? I guess he means “just right” lemons. Sorry. This pie crust makes me angry. It’s not the lemons, it’s me.