A Plum Story

Dearest Red Bird

Okay, so the most amazing thing is going on in the little room behind me. The boy is talking out loud. WHAAAT! This is big people. This is something he is not usually able to do but behind that door the boy is learning Swedish and he is doing it out loud. I am the happiest being right now. For us this small thing is a big step towards breaking down a fear and opening up a child's mind to accept his voice and be comfortable speaking. For me this is the beginning of something bigger, this is a step towards the possibility that one day he might be able to chat with people, go to job interviews, be able to make friends and keep them. Rosetta Stone, I love you.

So while I sit in my little bubble of happiness, I want to tell you about plums. We all have a favourite fruit and surprisingly plums are not mine, but once a year these little gems fill me with nostalgia and here's why. My mother is German and Germany for me is the greatest place on earth. I grew up in the UK, but spent every summer of my childhood in Germany. German was my first language before I spoke English. We celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve and  on Dec 5th, put our shoes out for St. Nick. I love rye bread and herring, I love the language and the people. But when I think of Germany, I think plums. I think of my mother, thick slab of bread in hand, covered by a generous smear of Quark topped with the deep purple of Pflaumenmus (plum butter). I think of the plum trees in my parents garden heavy with their sweet load and my mother carrying plums back to the house usually in the turned up edge of her sweater, eating some on the way. And then the reward from all this growing and gathering, Pflaumenkuchen (plum cake). In Germany, Kaffee und Kuchen (coffee and cake) is almost a religious affair, actually, I don't know what the rest of Germany think of Kaffee und Kuchen, but for me it was time with my grand mother, hand embroidered table cloth neatly covered with her best china. It was a time for sitting quietly, while the grown ups talked and we ate the most delicious cake and sipped juice or milk while the heavenly aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped us. I loved Kaffee und Kuchen time and it is the one thing I look forward to the most when we visit family in Hamburg. My daughter while on her year of discovery in Europe has also fallen for Germany in a big way. Future plans now involve time living in this great country and I am more than excited for her.

This time of year the humble fruit shines and our local store has a bountiful supply of those deep purple treasures awaiting my tiny stove. The best plums to use for baking are Italian prune plums. They are not at their best uncooked,although that doesn't stop me from devouring them on the way home (like mother like daughter) but put them in the oven and their flavour develops. Part sweet part acidic, these little purple orbs of fruity goodness become something quite exciting. I love how such simple things can bring up such emotion and how a seemingly mundane task such as grocery shopping can turn into a trip down memory lane. During our visit to Galliano Island last week we found ourselves parked at the harbour facing the most wonderful food truck. The smells coming from it were mouthwatering, but the decor on the van was what caught my eye. The stories from my childhood of the devilish Max und Moritz, two naughty boys causing mischief wherever they went, painted on a truck, parked in a corner of a tiny Island in BC, many miles from Germany. Simple pleasures to warm the soul are so important to healthy living. With so much focus on the bad and sad in the world it does wonders to step back and remember the good and smile at all those good times.

Funnily enough the smell from this food truck was of Asian cuisine, 

but the memories were all German!

Perhaps Red Bird, while you are feeling low, a return to childhood might just be the thing. Maybe a favourite food or a teen movie so cheesy it smells! Put on some 80's pop or dig out the photo album and remember the times when responsibility wasn't your burden, simply eating cake and having fun was.

Not my mothers Pflaumenkuchen, but pretty good none the less.

Always Yours
Sparrow