Product Manager
Drove to Vienna on Thursday with bf's aunt and uncle. His aunt calls me “Reechee” and his uncle calls me “Elisabet” (after my middle name) since they didn't understand how Samo was pronouncing “Rachel.” Samo has been having long conversations with them in Croatian, and I've been allowed to play ludicrous amounts of Word Mole (it's like Boggle?) during that time.
We made spaetzle the other day.
Beat eggs, add flour until it is spaetzle-consistency batter (no measurements, prob 2/3 c. spaetzle flour per egg)
Load spaetzle press with batter, squeeze briskly into boiling water
Let spaetzle cook for 30-40 seconds, then use strainer to transfer to bowl of cold water
Reheat spaetzle in microwave or pour hot gravy over it when ready to serve.
Bf's recipe (for me)
Come to Europe, stay with bf's family
Whine loudly for spaetzle
Put flour and eggs in bowl
Get strong man (bf) to whisk contents of bowl
Get said man to make spaetzle
Purposefully drop small amount of spaetzle batter on floor, so you can get sent out of kitchen
Play 2 rounds of Word Mole
Eat spaetzle when bf serves it to you.
Vienna is great-- post to come. After that, not sure how much wifi access I'll enjoy in Croatia.
Rachel is trying to single-handedly deplete Germany's brezel and spätzle reserves (rhyme unintentional). She claims she could eat spätzle for the rest of her life so I give her until next week to get tired of it. That being said, spätzle are quite tasty. The eggy, spongey texture is great and they go well with heavy sauces and meat. If we can find some spätzle flour, I will make it for her when we get back.
Today, we visited Porsche museum[1]. I am not a huge car guy[2], but it was fun. I now have a new favorite car (Porsche 356, Number 1) and the awareness there are a few ugly Porsches. We also noticed how the audio guide (unsurprisingly) made every one of the displayed cars sound like a (hint of German accent) “marvel of modern technology – the greatest, fastest, lightest, most efficient auto made at the time.” The tour guide, however, explained that engineers/owner/public hated some of the models. There were also a few ugly (or as Rachel calls it, “fugly”) cars. They looked like a Mumbai spice peasant designed a vehicle he thought would be modern in Peru.
In conclusion, I am now ready to accept a Porsche gift[4], particularly once not designed by Indian farmers.
MGB