And now, for my next trick: Germknödel! I’ve had quite a bit of interest in these babies since I tweeted about making them, and rightly so; they’re rather special and I’ve never seen them outside Austria. Oh, and for those of you who’ve been moaning I make stuff you can’t pronounce, it’s gare-m-kner-dil.
Here, they’re most frequently eaten for lunch to fortify oneself during a long day of skiing but I have no such qualms – I’ll happily scarf one down on Sunday for afternoon tea even if the most taxing thing I’ve done all day is make cheese toasties for breakfast.
When you cut through the pillow soft, buttery yeast dough, the Powidl within and the topping of poppy seeds, icing sugar and butter merge into a spicy, heavenly sauce which you proceed to mop up and shovel into your waiting mouth with great speed, lest someone ask you if they can have a bite (they can’t).
Sometimes I delight in making things that turn out just like a bought one (see: bagels, English muffins). It might seem pointless to some (I did get a few blank looks when I announced to friends I was making Germknödel since Austrians usually buy them frozen and you can’t tell the difference) but I get a real sense of achievement from recreating stuff that you normally buy. Ahem, we all have to get our kicks somewhere, right?
Also, since I am a horrendously bad skier and therefore the only adult in a sea of tiny babies on the easy slope, I have to bolster my self-esteem somehow. I have chosen, inexplicably perhaps, to be able to sit amongst my friends when we adjourn for lunch – they having descended from the giddy heights of the black runs – and salvage the bit of pride that remains mine after spending most of the day with my bum in contact with snow by croaking through a mouthful of Germknödel “I’ve made these myself, you know.”
Can you ski?