Experiments

Sometimes I get an idea in my head that I just can’t stop thinking about. For months “Milchreis” has been haunting my supermarket visits and dancing tantalizingly before my outstretched fingertips. Finally after Christmas break in the U.S., I decided that I was going to try it. Countless times, I had returned the pre-made variety to the shelf, rejected, after careful perusal of the ingredient list, so it appeared that actually tasting the concoction would be preceded by preparing it myself. This prospect appealed to me much more, regardless of the aforementioned superfluous ingredients, I mused, as I finally gathered the needed items into my shopping cart.
Milk, the “Milchreis” rice (white rice), sugar, cinnamon. Straightforward enough. I even sprung for organic milk because at .69 Eurocents a liter, it certainly wasn’t going to break the bank. On my way home, mini-trampoline in tow (but that’s another story), I ran into one of my colleagues, who, while unabashed by the trampoline, seemed taken with the idea that I might like “Milchreis” and she hadn’t known about it. After counseling me to make sure I ate it with cinnamon and melted butter drizzled over the top the way her mom always made it and giving me a much-appreciated rundown on the exact meaning of certain vocabulary in the cooking instructions, she sent me on my way.

The "Milchreis"



Once I had thumped my way clumsily up the stairs with my ingredients and my trampoline, I relaxed into the warmth of my apartment and set the stage. One pan, a whisk (Schneebesen or “snow broom” in German!), measuring cups and a metric-English calculator later I was well underway. The process was simple enough, as “Milchreis” is in effect rice boiled in milk instead of water. The concoction was tasty, but it was a little sticky and took some adapting to. Paired with cinnamon and a little extra sugar I found it to be a comforting and satisfying treat.



Rice Pudding hot from the oven

 While talking with my Mom a few days later, she asked me if it was similar to rice pudding, fondly called “figgy pudding” in our house, which was a childhood favorite of mine. To be honest, it had been about 15 years since I’d had rice pudding, so I set out to make it, little knowing what an undertaking it would be. The recipe required baking the pudding in a glass baking dish immersed in a water bath.



Ready to eat!

 After visiting the neighbors, I procured the missing baking implements and mixed the custard while the rice finished cooking. Then I put it all together and stuck it in the oven. Luckily I had enough raisins left; even though I had bought them FOR the pudding, I had been eating them like it was my job. The result was completely different from the “Milchreis” since the eggs in the pudding make the filling custardy, but it was as delectable as I remembered.

I guess I got a bit spoiled because after both desserts were gone I felt like there was a dessert-shaped hole in my stomach that only homemade baked goods could fill, and that’s when it struck me. Even if I pass up cultural experiences due to my preference to not eat meat, German dessert is one category that leaves my options wide open. I don’t just want to eat it, though. I want to make it myself – to fully engage in the process and have a piece of German experience that surely no one in the U.S. will object to my sharing with them. So that’s my new goal: to cook, eat and share as many German desserts as I can over the next months. I’ve already invested in a new glass baking dish and a cake pan that’s like a deep cookie sheet, so let’s go!

Ideas about what I should bake?  Please enable me.

Deine,

N*