Paulchens FoodBlog?!

A morning like any other.

Wide awake, because one of my “cute” cats with whom I share my apartment and life, was jumping onto me or is staring at my face until I open at least one eye. Only to purr at me kindly and roll back into a purring , snoozing furball right beside me.

It’s May 31st, 7 clock in the morning.

Morning routine: bathroom, shower, kitchen, coffee, cereal+yoghurt, back to bed. Laptop started while I was away, Tweetdeck already shows my Twitter timeline.
While I take my first sip of coffee, I read my way through my favorite lists. I start to explore: Who is already online?

I am not a morning person, mind you. Head is working very slowly without lots of fuel (coffee) actually.

Plate to Page has ended nearly more than 2 weeks ago and I have a new favorite list in Twitter with all my new found friends, don’t want to let go this P2P feeling, want to know what they are up to at their homes.
Most of the time some early birds are already out and twittering merrily away without hesitation. I enter Twitterwold with my morning tweet “G’Morning Lovelies“. My coffee next to me is lukewarm.

One tweet follows the other.
Difficult to keep up for a tangled mind like mine, still struggling to stay awake. I can still hear the laughter that went with our morning coffee gossip in our apartment in Weimar when I read the tweets from @lucullian, @wisemona, @lifesafeast, @jenncuisine, @junglefrog, @foodandthefab and @cook sisterblog and all the others.

Now that we all are back home in our own beds, the morning coffee and gossip was virtualized and within the blink of an eye the #coldcoffeeclub was born.

Tweeting with the girls feels almost the same as if we were still all together in Weimar and makes the start of the day so much more valuable, more beautiful. Even puts a smile on my face in the morning – go figure!

Well and it would not be us, if we would not get ourselves into trouble in no time. One second we bitch and laugh about the “pink post-it of doom” and are  pondering on moving to live in Italy.

Next second I am looking at my Tweet, which reads “I am in” with which agreed on a blog article about “Would you let your waistline determine where you live?”

Post due next Tuesday!

Oh hello, there they were my three problems: writing blog posts, deadlines and I. *sigh* But you know what? This time it’s fun! (somehow)

So I’m sitting here one day (!) before the deadline typing my text… The little bugger on my shoulder, looks at me with pure suspicion: That’s indeed has never happened before!

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Would I let my waistline determine where I live?

Although I call myself a Foodie I’ve never been thinking about such a question before. Deep in my heart and my soul the desire to live in Ireland and to spend the rest of my life there happily ever after. But food was (until now) never an issue … just a deep longing and wonderful feeling whenever my feet hit the ground of this amazing country.

I have done this step yet, it is a little too far out of my comfort zone … yes I am a cautious person regarding my living and yes even Aquarians like me have their limits (lot of limits to be honest). My limit at the moment is where I shall leave my familiar habitat – forever, for good. Now.

I’m working on it. I know that my longing will enventually win over my mind and my need of safety. It will override one day and then I will live my dream.

Just not right now – one step at a time, right?

Food, cooking and, above all, the knowledge about the plants, herbs, vegetables and ingredients you need for cooking, has always been an important part in my life.
As a little girl I wandered through the garden with my grandfather and the surrounding forests at the back of our house and listened to his explanations. How a certain vegetable or fruit must be cultivated. Which vegetables are friends and which are not so keen of each other. When is each fruit in season and how to handle it best (unless you eat it from the tree of course).
I had my own cherry tree (planted for me just when I was mere two years old) and my own vegetable patch, which I’ve always maintained with devotion.

During our walks in the woods I learned a lot about wild herbs and mushrooms, which to choose and which rather let be. Later in the kitchen, we cooked and preserved our treasures we got from the garden and the woods.
I would spend hours placing oin apple besindes the other carefully making sure that they do not touch, so that they would be as perfect as possible in winter times, when we would go and bake my beloved “Apfelstrudel” with them.

Today you can buy any fruit all year round in the supermarket often at prices that make me shake my head. In our hectic modern world we do not think so much about preserving and keeping foods fresh other than store them in de fridge or freezer.

Often we lack (when we live in the city where space is limited) place and possibilities to do so anyway. Many in my generation are lacking the knowledge about things my Grandpa told me when I was young, they never had anyone who would share this knowledge.

“Think global – act local”, it’s only a slogan nowadays. Hardly anyone knows what it would really mean: no bananas, no citrus fruits, melons, no exotic fruits … (they just do not grow local here!) still they are foods we take for granted.

But that’s a whole other story … back to

Would I let my waistline determine where I live?
The answer is no.

To me it’s important to know about the local available food to be able to use it in my everyday life. I am convinced that you can eat healthy anywhere if you actually are willing to deal with what is locally available.

I am a “Zuckergoscherl” (means sweet tooth) I would give up every pig roast for a sweet main course. I’d be happy in Bohemia and Hungary, which both are famous for their pastries.  Just do not believe I actually could decide to live in this countries. It does not feel home to me, there is no bonding I can feel when I am there.

I love me a good pasta or a delicious smelling pizza – I would not deny these. Risotto is something I’ve learned to love recently: if my brother is cooking it, I find it really tasty. I could live well in Italy if it was for the food. If only the weather would not be that hot. Sorry! I’m getting really unbearable when temperatures are to high. Too cold I do not like either, go figure!

I could go on wandering through many countries, but actuallyI feel like this:
I could not live in a place just because my waistline would benefit.
I could not live in a place where I love just the food.
I could not live in a place where I dislike the food…

“The belly rules the mind?” – possibly, yes.
But mind and soul must be in line, that’s when I am happy and satisfied.

I am the happiest girl on earth with a bowl of yogurt and fresh fruit. Or simply cooked – still hot – potatoes, some melting butter and salt with a glass of milk. Fresh bread, butter, honey and a homemade Limonde? Fine with me! That’s all I need! IF I am at place where I feel at home.

This might be (almost) anywhere in the world, right?
The best potato tastes just moldy at a place where I do not feel at home …

Would you let your waistline determine where you live?
Would you?

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This lovely little bundt cake or Gugelhupf as we call it in Austria was made after a recipe Jamie posted on her blog a few days ago. It looked so yummy I just had to make it! I think Mrs Q. my guniea pig (or test eater) liked it too. At least she got herself a second helping which I count as good sign…
I really loved it tho I am not a huge cinnamon lover…

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Please make sure you visit the (way better written) posts of my fellow #coldcoffeeclub girls Mona of WiseWords, Simone aka Junglefrog, Jamie of Life’s A Feast and Jenn of Jenn’s Cuisine and Ilva of Lucullian Delights.

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