A home full of guests was how we planned this holiday - friends from Houston would pot sunshine and Texas steaks, stuffing them in bulging blue Samsonite cases, while friends from Nigeria would come armed with Kilishi (Nigerian beef jerky) and peppered plantain chips; we, in the Netherlands would provide the snow, sleighs and bells.
Or Mispels according to the Dutch. Also known as Japanese medlar, not to be confused with that other sort of fruit, also called medlar, requiring rotting and bletting to reach edible status. It took me a year to find out what the English name for Mispels was. I first came across them in a market...
It could have worked out. For days before I made it, I dreamt and searched for recipes which used meringues instead of pastry pie shells. No dice. Still I went ahead, I could see it, smell it, taste it. The individual elements were great – meringues, orange curd and chocolate ganache.
Its my nature. I can’t leave things be. I like it like that so bear with me. Not satisfied with having witnessed stroopwaffels being made by experts, I decided that I would try it at home – without a proper stroopwafel maker. And try I did. Verdict later!
God created the world But the Dutch created Holland (Descartes or Voltaire, I can’t find out for sure who!) Of course I have my own saying to add….. God created the world, But Ladurée and Pierre Hermé ‘created’ Macarons (This is all me!)
This post is a scheduled one being posted from my holiday hotel, as I check in online…..to return home, from an amazing week in Barbados. I hope you enjoy it. Stroopwaffles are a common sight in shops, stalls and even vending machines all over the Netherlands. The average dutch person consumes 20 of these waffles each...
This is my entry for Mr P’s re-invent the Lamington challenge and in celebration of Australia Day today.
As soon as she opened the jar to show me what they looked like, I found myself breathing in the fragrance of my Nigerian childhood (while standing in a Parisian shop on a cold February day): hot, sweaty, scented days; all the intensity of my youth, captured in a few black Tonka beans.
