RemembeRED - Cooking with Oma

I am linking up again with RemembeRED and Write on Edge.... 

Take me back…whether to a month ago or decades ago.

Share with me a special recipe, but don’t just list out ingredients.

Take me there…in 500 words or less.

Come back on Tuesday, November 1st to link up.

I was raised in a Dutch household. My parents both immigrated as tweens and met and married on Australian soil. Growing up we ate meat pies, enjoyed the beach and said 'G'day' to each other, we thought we were true blue Aussies. But, we were not. I used to get liverwurst sandwiches in my lunch box, we celebrated Sinterklaas on December 5th and enjoyed talking loudly and eating a lot. It would appear that being Dutch was far more than a geographical point of reference.


As a child, my 'Little Oma' {grandmother} lived next door, my 'Big Oma' lived interstate. There were lots of advantages to having an Oma living right next door; lollies by the fistful, salted licorice on the dressing table and a good place to avoid my mum and her long list of chores to do.

On Saturdays, my Oma liked to bake, in case someone visited on a Sunday after church. She was famous for her Boterkoek which is a Dutch buttery shortbread kind of cake. I was often called upon to help her make it. I loved the chance to cook with her. 


Boterkoek is a simple cake, but these are often the best don't you think? We would melt the butter and mix in sugar, flour, almond essence and eggs. We would check that the dough was soft but not crumbly and moist but not greasy. The perfect dough was soft and golden and smelt amazing. We always had to try a little piece of it to make sure it was sweet enough. 


I loved the fluted pan she used to bake the Boterkoek in, it made the prettiest slices of cake I had ever seen. When we had pressed the dough into the pan, we would take blanched almonds and press them into the dough snugly in the scallop of each of the flutes so that each slice would get a delicious roasted nut. Once the egg glaze was smeared on, the cake was placed into the oven and it was time for a cup of tea. This is when Oma would sit in her chair and sigh heavily, take a few sips of tea and then presently fall asleep. Leaving me, all of 10 years old, to wash the dishes and smell the exact moment the delicious cake was ready.


I don't remember my Oma having all that many visitors, but the Boterkoek always ran out. This could explain why she wasn't actually all that 'Little' for a 'Little Oma'.


I wish I knew what happened to that fluted pie tray. I like to think that someone in our family still uses it. I have a different baking tray of my Oma's though. I am told she actually brought it with her when she travelled the many miles by boat from Holland to Australia. It is pressed steel. It has a great pattern on it and is black from years and years of faithful service to our family line. I am honoured to have it. When I use it to bake biscuits that I make with my girls I am proud to be passing on the legacy of baking to another generation. 

Anna Says - Heirloom Vs Junk

Heirloom Vs Junk

Everyone wants to have heirlooms in their possession. Especially ones that are worth a bit of money. No one wants junk in their possession. Unless it is worth a bit of money, of course. But can junk be heirlooms and can heirlooms be junk?


I guess I should take a moment to distinguish between 'Heirloom' and 'Junk' and then I will take you for a walk through a jewellery box in the very back of my cupboard.....


According to the Urban Dictionary - oh I how I love this resource - here are the definitions:


Junk:

Heirloom:

(I know that this is digressing, but did you notice the author of that definition? How could you miss it? It is circled in red! Me! Bbeingcool! Me! I have been racking my brains trying to find a word I could define to add to the Urban Dictionary - but all my cool words were taken. Imagine my excitement when 'Heirloom' had not yet been defined! Oh I was giddy with joy. The definition is under review, I will be sure to let you know if it has made it into the Urban Dictionary!)


So. Now that we know what these things mean, we can get into what is heirloomatic and what is junk.


My family is rich in history, I am proud of my family's stories. However, both sides of my family were not big on antiques or expensive jewellery. They were {and are} hard working, salt of the earth kind of people. My grandparents worked hard to support their children while also starting a new life here in Australia. When my grandparents passed away, there was not that much left to share out. My mum is one of nine children, so all the 'good stuff' {really want a better term to use here ...} went to the children, so what was left for the grandchildren was not that much. But, what we did get has lots of sentimental value.


These are some pieces of jewellery that I 'inherited' from my Oma when she passed away 7 years ago.

Now, these are not adorned with words like 'Cartier' or 'Tiffany' but I do remember my Oma {mum's mum} wearing things like these. My Oma had a very unusual sense in fashion and liked her costume jewellery.


I wanted to get these things valued, just so I knew where I stood {not that I was going to sell them, I was just interested}. I asked my mum if she knew where my Oma had bought them from. I was kind of happy, and shocked, and bummed, and charmed all at the same time. 


Some of this jewellery was bought in jewellers, some from markets, some were gifts and some even from ads my Oma saw on the television. How cool! I didn't think anyone bought things from the television, but MY Oma did. And I have them in my possession. 


I don't know if one day these things will be worth a lot of money. Maybe someday a museum could be interested in jewellery bought from the first of the television shopping campaigns... but, to me they are precious. I have worn a few of them and I am sure one day they will come back into fashion, so I am going to keep hold of them. These things fit into a small box so it is not like I have inherited a 5ft metal chicken or anything.


When I look at this jewellery I don't see gaudy colours and tarnished brass. What I see is a legacy. My Oma had great style. I remember she loved shoes and hats. She always wore lots of necklaces and wore Anais Anais perfume. She loved patterns and texture and even though she was of a larger proportion, she always looked nice.  


My mum has great style too. She is her own person and strives to be in fashion while still being comfortable and individual, I like that. I call my mum's style 'Gypsy caravan crashes into bead cart while wearing cotton and sensible shoes'. Both my sisters have great style too. One is classic, one is a bit off beat, I like their styles a lot. We all talk about clothes and shoes and what colours and styles are current. We all love jewellery too, which I guess is part of Oma's legacy to us. We also love to talk about bargains, something instilled in us from an early age.


I too am working on working on my own style. It is an evolutionary thing though, I have not settled on any one style, which I think is cool. I am not all about clothes though, I hope I can make that clear. I am all about finding your inner cool, which is more of an attitude or state of mind. I think that clothes are the easiest way to show this inner cool to others, as if we are all walking art works. But again, I digress...


What I want you to get out of this piece is that although some may think 40+ year old costume jewellery is junk, it has been passed down to me from my grandmother - this makes them heirlooms. I will be holding on to these things long enough to pass to my children, just like the stories that make up the rich family history that is mine.


Heirloom Vs Junk? It all depends on where it fits in your story I guess.


What kinds of heirlooms lurk in your family?

Vintage B - Bad Manners & Switzerland

Why Vintage B?  Check out the Page.....


Date: Saturday, 10 April 2004

Subject: Belindaland: Travelling with Opa Michael and Oma Belinda

Howdy, I am currently in the middle of the

Mediterranean.  But I will get to that in the next

edition....

Well, Mike is officially 28 and celebrated his

birthday in Zurich, Switzerland.  It was a great time,

unfortunately my poor possum was not well with a

severe head cold and blocked sinuses.  

The title of this Belindaland referring to Opas and

Omas is quite relevant to us at the moment.  The

longer we've been married the more we have realised

and have got a glimpse at what each other will be like

as old folks.  Mike will be the type to check that all

of his socks are rolled and arranged in an orderly

fashion and that he has checked that his shoe laces

are firmly tied and that he has used the bathroom and

had a drink then used the bathroom again before

leaving the room in a tidy and orderly manner:

regardless of the fact that at the beginning of the

process he was already five minutes late.  

I on the other hand will forget everything, won't be

able to decide what to wear so try on every piece of

clothing spreading them across the room as I fluster

around, making it everyone else's problem, I will

forget to pack keys, passports, refuse to organise

anything in advance yet still insist on being ten

minutes early for everything.  Between the two of us

we will have it sorted though.....

Upon arriving at Zurich airport I had one of those

experiences so embarrassing, that if I tell you, you

must swear not to tell a living soul.  Agreed? 

Okay...first, the excuses.  Our friend Scott was going

to meet us in Zurich to do the marathon with Mike, he

had been in contact with us the day before and told us

that in all of his travels, he had never had language

problems like in Zurich.  So being armed and ready

with the phrasebook Mikey packed (of course I didn't)

we headed off.  

We like to get our passport stamped wherever we go,

some places don't do it automatically, so it is best

to ask.  We went through passport control at the

airport and the man just looked at my passport and

gave it back to me.  I handed it back and asked if he

would stamp it.  He took it back and began looking

through it, eventually he looked up at me and said

words I never thought that I would here (something I

say to rude children!) he said, "You know in

Switzerland we have a magic word, it is 'please'."

Then he gave me my passport back.  I was so

embarrassed, I had used hand gestures, as I thought,

you know, Scott had said, and well......  I could have

limboed under a piece of Gruyere cheese; I felt so

stupid.

Upon telling this story to Scott when we had met up

with him (finally after being lost and Mike REFUSING

to ask for directions, preferring to follow a map in

an foreign language) I looked through my passport to

find that the rotten cheese eating, cow hugging,

chocolate spreading Swiss Nasty man hadn't even

stamped my stinking passport!  The weekend was spent

with Mike and Scott paying me out constantly for

having bad manners, I mean really!  I have been so

damned polite since, you would not recognise me!!!!

Mike ran a brilliant marathon though, he came 49th in

his age group and in the top 10% in the whole race of

thousands of competitors.  It was awesome, especially

after the disasters of his last marathon.  It was a

sterling performance and I am so proud of him.  He did

it against all odds, being sick really was hard for

him to take, but he is such a star and he cruised

through.  Onya sweety!

Well, our time in Switzerland went by so fast, and so

much has happened.  I am currently off the coast of

Italy on our cruise (as you do, climbed Vesuvius

today).  But I will save that for another Belindaland.

 But for a quick preview, I can assure you that I have

done lots of embarrassing things to give you some good

stories to tell your friends, stay tuned.

Lots of love,

Belinda