Mother. (Episode 35)

8 09 2016

kransekage-2

It must be a family trait but what we all seem to have in common is a love of cakes.
Just about any type of cake as long as it is fresh, and of course preferably home baked, or from a very good baker. And talking of good bakers, we thought we’d landed in cake heaven when on a trip to Copenhagen. We’d visited H.C Andersen’s bakery one afternoon, and stood at a counter just oozing with temptations. Strawberry tarts, choux pastry buns filled with cream and topped with a slice of marzipan, sprinkles of cocoa powder the crowning glory – proper Danish pastries with flaky strands, a little bit of almond paste in the middle, topped with a thin delicate squirt of icing, a custard cream button in the center. ‘So which one are you having?’ I’d asked.

We’d both plumped for the choux pastry buns with custard crème filling and chocolate icing. And fresh filtered coffee. ‘Just as well we are only staying for a week or else I’d have to buy new clothes- bigger clothes,’ mother had said – the woman with cream on her nose at the next table sending her an agreeing nod.

‘Makes you wonder how the mermaid ever managed to stay little,’ I’d chortled.

Before we’d left mother had eyed up a long slab of Danish pastry, (It looked like a flattened loaf) with cinnamon strands running through it, and vowed that she would have a piece of that next time.  Perhaps.

The following morning, I’d staggered from my room in our rented apartment, squinted at the table, the plate in the middle of it, and the huge amount of cake piled high on the top of it. No exaggeration, the cake mound had been over a foot high.
Thankfully mother had appeared just before I’d began to doubt my own sanity.
‘I know’ she’d said in a tone of disbelief.

It transpired that mother had wanted to surprise me and had toddled off to the local bakers early morning to buy cake for breakfast. (decadent). She’d pointed at the cinnamon loaf, and to her horror the assistant had found the biggest bag she could find and piled at least four 15 inch loaves into it. ‘I don’t know what I’d said to make her think I’d want four of them.’ Mother tutted.

We’d both been pondering the excessive cake mound when the top layer slid off of it. I remember Mother gulping. ‘I just stood there watching the bakers assistant piling all that cake into a bag but didn’t know the Danish word for “Stop”.

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4 responses

8 09 2016
alienatednation - the silent majority.

You’re very welcome. I’m just about to murder a lemon drizzle sponge cake.(LOL). Have a great day :0)

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8 09 2016
carol hopkins

It is my daughter’s birthday today and she absolutely LOVES cake. I’m sure she would have loved to have that huge cake and even if she knew the Danish word for stop she’d never utter it. I love your post – it made me laugh, and I love to laugh so thanks for this. It made my day.

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8 09 2016
alienatednation - the silent majority.

Lol.A very happy birthday to your daughter. May she enjoy her favourite cake(s) today and always. Your quote about building too may walls and not enough bridges was excellent. :0)

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8 09 2016
carol hopkins

Thank you so much, I will pass along your greetings. And thank you for your kind words.

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