Column How gingerbread brought a piece of Swiss childhood to Portugal
The columnist was in the mood for gingerbread - for nostalgic reasons and because she was homesick. Even though the end result looked like a cowpat, the gingerbread tasted delicious - and, above all, like Switzerland.
No time? blue News summarizes for you
- When blue News columnist Michelle de Oliveira, who has lived in Portugal for several years, recently felt homesick for Switzerland again, she remembered her mother's gingerbread recipe.
- Shortly afterwards, de Oliveira was in the kitchen trying her hand at baking.
- The dough was sticky and the columnist soon began to doubt whether she was baking a gingerbread or creating a meringue. What would the family say?
- "Mmm, smells like Switzerland," said de Oliveira's son, before taking a bite of the gingerbread - after which he said with his mouth full: "Mega delicious."
It's November and we only recently ate the last chocolate eggs from the Easter bunny. Admittedly, they had slipped way to the back of the cupboard and were forgotten as a result.
But now our drawers are overflowing with sweets again, thanks to Halloween: gummy sweets in every conceivable shape, chocolate bars, lollipops and crackling powder.
Next to it is a huge paper bag full of broas. This is a typical Portuguese pastry made from flour, sugar, cinnamon, nuts and honey and is eaten on November 1st and well beyond.
About the person: Michelle de Oliveira
Michelle de Oliveira is a journalist, yogini, mother and always in search of balance - and not just on the yoga mat. She also has a soft spot for all things spiritual. In her column, she reports on her experiences with the incomprehensible, but also from her very real life with all its joys and challenges. She lives with her family in Portugal.
The children also bring home treats from school or children's birthday parties almost every day. I don't even know where to put it anymore, let alone who should eat it all.
Longing for mother's gingerbread
So we have more than enough sweets in the house. And yet I suddenly had a huge craving for something else. But it wasn't just a craving, it was also a hint of homesickness.
I missed the gingerbread that my mother often baked when I was a child. I remember exactly how happy I was every time she pulled the cake tin out of the oven and the whole apartment smelled of it.
I immediately asked my mother for the recipe. But logically it said: Gingerbread spice. Gingerbread spice in Portugal?
That could be difficult. I searched the biggest supermarkets in the area, the health food store, the spice store. Nothing.
Of course, I could have mixed the spice myself from the individual ingredients. But that was too risky for me, after all, I wanted the gingerbread to taste like it used to. So I had no choice but to order the spice online. Due to delivery delays, I had to wait almost two weeks for it.
The columnist is not a good baker
When it finally arrived in my letterbox, I immediately set to work full of anticipation. But at some point I realized that apart from four tablespoons of oil, there was no liquid listed on the recipe.
I'm really not an exceptionally good baker, but even I realized that there was something wrong here. With sticky fingers, I googled and then added an estimated amount of milk.
It looked better now, but I wasn't sure. I sent my mother a voice message: "Could it be that you've forgotten something in the recipe? Any liquid?"
The dough was sticky and I doubted whether I was baking a gingerbread or creating a meringue. Well then, I slapped the mixture onto the tray, put it in the oven and hoped for the best. At least the gingerbread spice seemed to do its job and soon the whole house smelled of cinnamon, aniseed, fennel and cardamom.
"Mom, it looks like a cake!"
Later, I put the lukewarm gingerbread on the table and was eager to see the reactions. Of course, I already knew that it tasted good, I had secretly snacked on it in the kitchen.
But what would the family say? I didn't have much time to think about it, because my son said: "Mom, it looks like a cake!" And he was undoubtedly right. That's exactly what it looked like. Everyone wanted to try it anyway and I held my breath for a moment.
"Mmm, smells like Switzerland," said my son, referring to the gingerbread, not the cow pancake. He bit into it and said with his mouth full: "Mega fine."
My daughter took a bite, mumbled something similar, but after a while said that she didn't like it and added apologetically: "I'm just a person who doesn't like cake."
She's absolutely right about that, even from her own birthday cake this year she only ate the Smarties decoration. So she was out of competition. My husband nodded approvingly and, like our son, said: "That's really nice."
In the rush, we forgot half a liter of milk
I ate two more pieces and was happy. A little too dry, but the gingerbread tradition had only just started. My mother called me shortly afterwards: In fact, half a liter of milk had been forgotten in the rush.
Fortunately, I had ordered several bags of gingerbread spice and will soon be baking another gingerbread, this time with the right amount of milk.
And bring a little bit of Swiss childhood to Portugal - no matter how many other sweets we already have.
