up brockenback mountain

The proposition of an impromptu trip to Germany initially left me feeling - well - nichts much. A self confessed Francophile, I am generally biased towards France, Spain and Italy. Germany has never really appealed if I'm honest.
Due to meet a very lovely old friend in her German boyfriend's hometown near Hannover, I googled said city and read the usual (museums, gardens, church, river, zoo…) Expecting a weekend of generally pleasant sightseeing, supping kaffee und kuchen and laughing at unfeasibly long German nouns was about the sum of what I expected during my Deutsche weekend. How wrong I was.

ilsenburg lake

view from the brocken

First off, Hannover was a distant 2 hour drive away from the picturesque small town of Ilsenburg, nestling at the north foot of the Harz mountains. No busy roads, thronging tourists, overpriced schnitzel here - just simply beautiful Hansel & Gretel style houses, all with their own burst of individuality and painstakingly tended gardens awash with colour and quirky touches. So peaceful as to be almost silent, we hardly ever saw people walking through the streets - far from being eerie (although a few Fritzl comments were made - cellars anyone?!) this lent the town an olde worlde feel. People just generally seemed happy pottering in their homes and gardens, at one with nature. Excess water was all collected in butts for gardens, there's no wastage - herbs are hung up to dry, berries left fermenting in bottles for home brewed booze. Swans paddled slowly across the big lake in the town centre, as the sun shone over lush woodland rising up the mountains beyond. Enough of the picture painting - lets get down to the heart of the matter - the food.

For someone who loves cheese and bread, a German breakfast ticked all the right boxes for me - freshly baked rolls and rye bread with butter and homemade jams, fresh fruit, ham and cheeses of all varieties was a hearty way to start the day and fuel us for mountain climbing up the aptly named Brocken (back), the highest peak in the Harz mountain range. We hopped on a steam train which wound it's way up to the summit, where we watched a load of sorry souls reaching the halfway point of an ardous marathon and being whacked on the bum with a broom by the legendary Brocken witch. Lunch at the top of the mountain consisted of a savoury warming Kartoffelsuppe, a potato broth, with the most wonderfully creamy rice pudding or Milchreis, I have ever had the fortune to sample. Topped with a sprinkling of cinnamon sugar and a slick of cherry or apple compote I was honoured to be eating not only the best rice pud ever but the highest in Northern Germany…

ambrosia

Walking back down the mountain took it's toll on my knees, however we diverged from the beaten track onto the soft floor of the dense woodland, stepping on lichen, fern and an abundance of wild mushrooms. The national parkland that surround Ilsenburg is full to bursting with gourmet shrooms, including chanterelle and porcini, which sell for a handsome price to the surrounding high class restaurants. Accompanied by a pilz expert, I was shown how to hunt down the vivid orange hue of the pfifferlinge and how to twist and pull it from the earth, dust and cut it's stem and check for worms/dryness/age. I also discovered the pepperpilz, a spicy tasting mushroom, the blood mushroom with a reddy orange stem, the hex mushroom which turns a witchy blue when cut, the devil and goat's lip mushrooms and a plump specimen which only 10% of the population find deadly… I also found a giant porcini the size of my foot, or bigger, which gave me the giggles.
With a bag full of chanterelles, the tip from the top was to fry them lightly with some butter and garlic, and eat simply with pasta, a dash of cream and a sprinkling of chives. Divine.

the forest

chanterelling hard

The Germans love their soup. We had our fair share of supping suppe when sitting down to have drinks al fresco, as we ordered from an extremely limited bar menu. Thin, watery soup with processed noodles and veg, a meaty concoction and what can only be described as a bowl of lardons coated in thick cream and melted cheese, were presented to us with local beer. Oddly enough the soups slipped down ok, but this was more down to hunger than delicatesse. We had a delightful bbq experience dining with uber hospitable Germans. A fresh, herby, zesty tomato salad made with homegrown onions, cucumber and green and yellow tomatoes, followed by perfectly flame cooked bratwurst. Crispy, smooth skins giving way to tasty meat, accompanied with ketchup, mustard and tzatziki. Stuffed to the gills with tender steaks topped with wild mushrooms softly sauteed and crusty bread with homemade garlic butter, it was all we could do to huddle in the rustic summer house with a few morsels of dark chocolate and plenty of wine and home brewed liqeur. Many crystal tumblers later, we were all suitably sozzled on this wine coloured elixir - the only way to describe it is boozy ribena. Blackcurrants picked and fermented in glass bottles in the sun with just korn (a German colourless spirit) and a dash of brown sugar, this stuff was to die for. Hand luggage prevented me bringing a bottle back, but to be honest it's probably for the best - she was found, in a hazy stupor, lying in a pool of Germany's best blackcurrants…

super fresh salad

steak n shrooms

wine n liqueur

I noticed that the Germans don't appear to be huge fans of dessert. They would rather OD on cream, meat, cheese and booze (lots of it) than faff around with some puff pastry and icing sugar. In fact coffee and cake seems to the be the done thing, and a torte or heavy pie while we're at it. Dining out started and ended with booze, and the menu was brimming with fried schnitzel, pasta, potatoes in various forms, steaks, chicken and soups. A starter soup someone ordered can only be described as a bowl of garlic butter. Portions are generous and filling. Nobody is leaving the table full, or sober, for that matter.

My German weekend was a welcome relief from the busy busy, disposable days of London. I felt like I'd stepped back in time for a weekend. If you get the chance to visit Ilsenburg, I highly recommend it. And don't forget, if you get lost you are not on einbahnstraBe*…

*one way street. We wrongly assumed this sign was the name of the road we were living on. Could prove dangerous when drunk and searching for a signpost which does exist, but many times over!

albion, shoreditch

With a blink and you've missed it summertime, we've somehow slipped into those drizzly autumnal inbetween-ish months when you wake up and don't quite know what to wear in the morning. Sudden sun breaks through brooding clouds, only to be swallowed up again (usually when it's time for your lunch break...) and suddenly those nice cropped jeans and pumps just aren't cutting it anymore. It's time to pull out the furs and boots - or is it? Same applies to eating out - al fresco dining around this time of year is a hit and miss affair. A balmy early evening, supping cocktails and nibbling tapas on a fortuitously spied prime outside table, can suddenly be spoilt rotten with incoming freezing gusts of wind or a flash downpour. Oh Albion! At times like this it's good to cover all your bases and pick somewhere where indoor and outdoor, and even inbetweeny, options are available for savvy diners. One such spot is the warm and laid back Albion Cafe, in 'trendy' Shoreditch. Ok you may have to put up with the odd skinny jeaned, brogued up and tousle haired hipster but they'll be more of the yummy daddy, solo book reading type - you won't tend to get the more irritating shoulder padded, Deirdre bespectacled oddballs of deepest Hoxton hanging out here. Albion is reassuringly tucked away on Boundary St, with outside tables and a completely open frontage (at this time of month) on a quiet residential street away from the hustle and bustle of surrounding Brick Lane, Sditch High St and Spitalfields. Here you can kick back and relax with a hearty brunch, lazy lunch or chilled out supper with good quality food in calm surroundings... and still be close to the bars and buzz should you wish to move on there afterwards.

albion by day

Albion is sold as a 'cafe' however it's more of a luxe caff/homely restaurant, definitely suitable for a couples treat or a low key date night. Tables inside are cosy and warm, with those outside or in the open frontage available for warmer/braver customers.  Food is top notch, a little on the pricey side but truly filling, and you certainly won't leave feeling like you need a kebab chaser. With typically British grub, harking back to that retro era of kippers and devilled kidneys, Albion is a meat lovers dream with pies, chops, sausage and mash, fish and chips and stodgy puddings for the greedy punter. We plumped for the kedgeree and the fish pie - gorgeously spiced rice with lightly smoked haddock and delicately hard boiled eggs, while the pie was satisfyingly creamy with decent chunks of prawn and fish, topped with a very buttery smooth mash. Complimentary fresh baked bread is also served before the courses, with salted butter. We visited on a Sunday evening, and tucking in at one of the outdoor tables, enjoying the quiet night, fresh air and warming food, this rare spot felt rather well hidden and unknown. However it must be said that daytimes are particularly busy, and if you fancy a spot for weekend brunch be prepared to queue. The bakery is stocked with fresh produce and gorgeous crusty bread, cakes and muffins on a daily basis, so you can always start nibbling while u wait if hunger is striking...

It may feel like it's not part of the east end massive, but unfortunately - it is. And Shoreditch prices do creep in on the drinks menu with teeny tumblers of, admittedly good, red wine at a horrendous £7 a pop, with a large glass going hard at £9! I do recommend the bloody marys and elderflower refresher, if you fancy a cheeky aperitif or a boozy brunch fuel - but be prepared to fork out. Next door there is also the French Boundary bar and restaurant. A more luxurious and lofty affair, it's a great place to start; take the lift up to the rooftop for a pre-dinner cocktail watching the sunset or if the rain starts pouring down, head to the sleek and chic bar for an expertly mixed Martini - then head next door to Albion, kick off your brogues, push back those gawjuss locks, shrug off that corduroy blazer and slouch back as you enjoy one of those rare blissful London moments where for just a minute you can switch off and forget where you are without a Pete Doherty alike stumbling into your path and effing it all up. Oh Shoreditch!

(Don't worry they'll all move over to Hackney Wick(ed) soon...)

when life gives you lemons...

...why not make something lemony?

I have always been a big lemon lady - as a child I apparently used to sit in my high chair happily sucking on raw lemon segments, not a wince or grimace on my chubby cheeks. I do remember sneaking to the fridge when I was little and sneakily dipping the tip of my tongue in the lid of the concentrate lemon juice bottle for that little frisson of flavour. Naughty! I love my pancakes absolutely doused in limone juice with the merest sprinkle of sugar, a tarter than tart lemon meringue pie and French citron pressé made up of more citron than, erm, pressé....
A colleague of mine, who goes by the last name Lemon, had a birthday and I decided to bake some lemon cupcakes to honour the occasion.
To make, I creamed butter with sugar and grated lemon zest, then folded in 2 beaten eggs with flour and baking powder. Popped in the oven at 180C, for about 10 mins so they're not too solid, the mixture made around twelve cupcakes.

ready to rock

To add a bit of pizazz once the cupcakes came out of the oven, i cut the tops off, spooned in a dollop of lemon curd, then replaced the tops before icing with lemon butter (cream butter, icing sugar, lemon zest and lemon juice together into a spreadable consistency). I then sprinkled the cupcakes with a touch of silver edible glitter, along with those little lemon jelly slices (so retro) to stick on top of the cakes for added citrus impact. On the birthday boys cupcake I added his initials in chocolate along with a yellow candle, and finally just before serving I topped all the cakes with little flags with his face on them (complete with evil curly moustache doodled on...comedy value)

tops off

icing on

just lemon

I also wanted to make a jelly lemon lake but unfortunately ran out of time... To make fizzy jelly, you just dissolve jelly in 150ml hot water, and then add 420ml cold lemonade instead of cold water. Ramp it up for adults by adding champagne or sparkling wine into the mix instead of the lemonade... Pour the jelly mixtures into a suitable mould (rude ones if possible), for a refreshing fruity sweet with a fizz!

Lemony good.