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My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post 160: Strudel School

31 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by duckykoren in Baking, Cooking, Recipes

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Apples, Baking, Baptist, Church, Cooking, Foodie, Mother, Oma, strudel

‘If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.’

Carl Sagan

In German cuisine, there is no ‘pie’ as such. The closest you can get is torte. Strudel is very much like pie, as it contains both pastry and fruit filling.

Further, apple strudel is the centre of the universe when it comes to German cuisine.

So, in the spirit of the late, great Carl Sagan, allow me to present this homage to a childhood memory drenched in the popular German epicurean delight: Strudel.

Imagine if you will…

…a very young girl, with a Mother who works full time.

A working Mother was unusual in the German community that I grew up in. My Grandfather had been a pastor at a German Baptist church in Toronto, so I knew just about everyone in the congregation. I knew no other Mother who worked outside the home.

There were senior women from the church who would volunteer their time to visit young households and show the novice housewives how to prepare an apple strudel from scratch.

No doubt, the thought that there were German homes with children who never had fresh apple strudel must have been unthinkable to these women who donated their time, patience and baking expertise.

This is what I remember…

On the designated day, Oma Haas would show up at our home very early in the morning.

(Oma is the German word for Grandmother… She wasn’t my Grandmother however, Oma was used as a term of endearment and respect. She may have been my Grandfather’s cousin… *sigh* …but I digress)

The first order of of the day would be would begin with the peeling of apples.

It seemed as Mother and Oma Haas were peeling apples for hours. There must have been a whole bushel involved. All you could smell was apples. As soon as they were peeled the naked apples would be given a bath in a large bowl filled with lemon juice and water to help preserve freshness as it would be quite awhile before they made it into the oven.

There was still so much work to be done.

After the apples were peeled, bathed and dried, they were then finely sliced and chopped. There were mounds and mounds of apples. It was as if our home had been invaded by them.

The next thing I remember is the preparation of the dough. It took a lot of flour, elbow grease and kneading to make this dough perfect. Oma Haas would accept nothing less.

After it had been prepared a large clean white cloth was placed over the kitchen table. Next the dough was rolled out, and rolled and rolled. Meticulous fingers were used to prod and coax the dough until it covered the entire table and hung over the sides. Any rips or holes were carefully mended. At this point the dough was so thin that you could almost see through it. Then it was carefully brushed with butter so it wouldn’t dry out too quickly.

Even at my age, I was impressed at the precision Oma Haas displayed in her work. She knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Mother didn’t dare second guess her. She followed orders and did as she was told. There was little conversation as Mother and Oma Haas worked, as there was a whole lot of concentration going on.

The apples were then strewn across the table along with sugar, cinnamon and raisins. At this point, it looked like my Mother and Oma Haas were having lots of fun. However, I was strictly verboten from touching anything. Still, I snuck a piece of apple whenever I could.

Then came the most interesting part. One side of the white tablecloth was lifted high and manipulated in a waving motion so that the dough rolled up all by itself without being touched by hand. It made for a very long apple jelly roll.

When rolling was completed, the strudel was cut into pieces to fit into the baking pans. There was lots and lots of strudel to bake, so it could not go into the oven all at once.

I remember the final strudel came out of the oven late in the afternoon. Then it was time to clean the kitchen.

By the time it was all over, we had a fridge full of strudel. Oma Haas took some strudel to share with her family and other members of the church congregation.

Those were different times indeed. There was no canned apple filling, no phyllo dough, no store bought apple strudel.

Just determination, discipline, compassion for others and a commitment to preserve the old ways as long as possible…

…As well as the love for a good homemade apple strudel.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post Ninety-Two: Got Apples?

22 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by duckykoren in Diet, Family, Nutrition, Stories

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Tags

Apples, Birthday, blogs, cross-stich, Diet, fathers, Fruit, hungry, markets, nutrition, purse, refrigerator, School, Sister

Since this week would have been my father’s eighty-third birthday, I have decided to write a few celebratory words…

…or maybe not so few,

…in his honour.

This story begins way back when I was still a young teenager.

I can still recall the times that I would go to a refrigerator in search of a snack.

Upon hearing the fridge door open, dad who was usually upstairs, would call down to me:

“What are you doing in the fridge?”

“I’m hungry,” I would reply.

“Eat an apple,” he would then tell me.

“I don’t want an apple…” I’d answer.

“Then you’re not hungry.”

I would then proceed to linger in the fridge for a few more seconds. Then finding nothing of interest, I’d close the fridge door and walked away, disappointed and…

…apple-less.

Let me state, that our humble fridge never lacked for apples. Father did not believe in the regular two or five pound bags.

He brought home apples by the bushel, fresh from our downtown market.

We were a family of three: my Father, myself and my little sister.

That’s a lot of apples for just three people.

In turn, each morning before school, I would fill my large purse with apples and gleefully hand them out to friends during break.

Still, somehow we never ran out of apples.

And so… years later, as a memento of those days, I cross-stitched the apple sampler you see above and gave it to dad as a father’s day gift in 1990. He hung it in his kitchen. And there it remained until after he passed away, when it was ultimately returned to me.

It now hangs in my dining room, and continues to bring me joy to this day… In the week my father would have turned eighty-three.

Now, if you’ll excuse me… to celebrate the life of my father, I am now off in search of an apple…

…Even though I’m not hungry.

I miss you Dad.

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