Bread-making for beginners

What do you do in Berlin with two kids when it's pouring down with rain? Well, as much as you might enjoy lying in bed listening to the rain absolutely pounding off the pavement below, some people will still be begging to be taken to an outdoor pool. Time to suggest something different. Bread-making! Dead easy. 

Bread-making for beginners:

1. Clear your kitchen of all things you hold dear. Except children. (Though for better results, perhaps tell them to get lost too.)

2. Prepare yourself mentally by getting all the bowls, spoons, mixers, jugs, water, etc, etc, ready in advance. This will save you from having a minor meltdown later when you turn to get something, and turn back seconds later to discover half the bread mix on your ceiling.

3. Assign tasks to each child to avoid needless bickering/crying. One can pour the mix into the bowl, one can pour the water. 

4. Give each child a shot of the mixer until you realise that it is struggling due to the fact that it's around 40 years old, and not one of these new-fangled (much desired) food mixers/processors with a bread mixing hook. Give up, and tell them to get stuck in with their hands. 

5. As you watch them delve in, you may find yourself wondering if they did in fact wash their hands beforehand, or whether they just did that thing where they trick you by turning on the bathroom tap for a minute. Banish these thoughts from your mind: in a moment you're going to go right off the idea of ever eating this bread anyway as they scrape bits of mix off numerous surfaces around the kitchen and add it back into the bowl.

6. Once the mixing process is complete, attempt to scrape 75% of the mix off of your children. Become so covered in the process that you forget to care and just dump it back in the bowl and shove it in a pre-warmed oven to rise. 

7. Follow your children through to the bathroom to clean up and discover your lovely Cath Kidston towels now contain 33% more carbs than they did an hour ago while the tap remains untouched. Suck back the tears. It'll wash out.

8. Return to oven 40 minutes later and discover that the heat had been too high and you have kind of already started baking the bread. Remove from bowl and toss onto a baking tray. Turn up the oven and bake for a further hour. 

9. Remove from oven and delight in the absolute lack of fresh-baked-bread smell. (How can that be?). Cut into massive (still slightly doughy) chunks and make your partner eat it as punishment for going off and enjoying himself at football. Feel happy that your kids feel utterly proud of their achievements in the kitchen, and enjoy your sandwich (sneakily made with bread from the bakery)

When I was young I used to do a lot of baking with my parents. I really enjoyed the process of bringing different ingredients together and making something that to my eyes looked pretty amazing. Around the age of 7 or 8 I got into making bread. We had a great cupboard that got loads of heat from the central heating boiler which was perfect for leaving your bread to rise. Bread-making doesn't need to be a faffy process involving yeast. I started off using bread mixes I got at the supermarket, and always felt really pleased with the results I got. Nowadays the range of bread mixes is far greater than when I was a kid, so you can find something to suit most kids taste. We've also had some really great results with some sun-dried tomato bread. Despite my slightly negative slant, I actually really enjoy baking with the kids. It's good fun for all of us and they really do feel chuffed with what they produce. They also tend to eat what they make, which makes me happy, as they don't eat so much bread otherwise. Same goes if I get them involved in making dinner - they are always keener to eat it, especially if they get to try little tastes of it during the cooking process.

(You can see more of the things we've been up to in the summer holidays here on the page 'Something... to do in the summer holidays')

Hudson's Cakes & the best book group idea EVER!

You know how I pretty much can't cook? How a lot of the cakes I make even turn into swampy disasters? How IKEA tends to surpass me in culinary wonder? Well, you can perhaps imagine how anxious I felt at the prospect of going along to Hudson's Cakes in Kreuzberg on Friday night to join them for the most brilliant book group idea I have come across yet..... Cook Book Book Group! Or Cook Book Club as they call it because it's easier to say after a few beers, 3 soups, a main course, 4 desserts & coffee.

Hudson's Bakery, yum, yum. British tea, cakes and other things (and what lovely lights!)

So the idea is that someone suggests a cook book, and you choose something to make from it, then bring it along at the allotted time, and everyone tries a little bit of everyone else's, and then you all talk about the cook book. Doesn't that sound like far more fun than just a regular book group? Especially as pretty much everyone in Berlin can cook better than me. The cook book club has been running for quite a few months, and myself and Sarah from workingberlinmum have fancied joining in but have never been able to make it before this one. And this one was a cracker. The theme was 'Childhood favourites'. So that's chips and Creamola Foam, right? (I know, you'll never have heard of Creamola Foam, but give your stomach ulcer a treat and go and order some off eBay right now! There's even all new Irn Bru flavour, but I'd recommend the classics - the lemonade one was terrific. I used to think that there might not be a single natural ingredient in Creamola Foam it was that amazing.But I bet that's all changed now, progress, huh!)

Remnants of the Cook Book Club feast alongside what might possibly be me & Sarah's breakfast next Thursday

Getting back on topic, in all seriousness, I struggled a bit with this topic. I used to prefer skipping and playing with Playmobil back in the day and left all the cooking and bill-paying sorts of things to my parents. And when I think of what we ate when I was a child, the meal that sticks in my mind the most was that rabbit that my mum tried to get us to eat, and that's not a fond memory. There seemed to be a awful lot of chops in those days too. Until I came to Germany I can't think of the last time I heard anyone say they were "having chops for their tea". Not that I am spending my days engrossed in German chop chat, but I know they're eating them cause I've seen them. (in the shops that is, not hanging out of the Berliner's mouths).

No evening is complete without coffee and some photos.

So I phoned my dad, who's in charge of the cooking in my mum and dad's house. It didn't used to be that way, my mum did almost all of the cooking when my dad was out at work, but when I think of my mum's cooking I think of (a) that rabbit, (b) chops, & (c) coming home from school for lunch which was either a banana sandwich or Heinz tomato soup and homemade pancakes. The last one seemed like a good choice but I don't think I can get Heinz tomato soup here. Schade!

So my dad suggested two things: his cheese soufflé which came from a recipe on a leaflet distributed in 1979 by the Egg Marketing Board. I love it, but it doesn't travel well on a longish ride on the U-Bahn, His other suggestion was broccoli & stilton soup. So I did that, except I used a Danish Blue cheese that turned out to be so overpowering, that I did the only thing possible and blamed my dad for it. Anyway, the whole evening was brilliant fun. We had tons to eat, and it worked out that we had a great balance of starters, mains and desserts to eat. Given that we didn't have much in the way of cook books to talk about, as most recipes came from mothers or other family members that had been passed on, we talked about a million other things instead. And it was all rather lovely and I'd very much like to go again! As a matter of fact, Sarah & I liked it so much that we're dropping by for breakfast later this week. Yum, yum, yum, though thankfully, we're not cooking.


If you are in Berlin you can find details of Hudson's Cakes & information about the Cook Book Club and other events they run on their Facebook Page

How to prepare a hearty meal...

Mostly I go food shopping on a Friday evening to one of the big supermarkets where I can get pretty much everything I need. If I want fish I usually go to the market, and if I run out of something and need it desperately for the dinner I am making I tend to dash round the corner to Nah und gut.

I've never been able to work out what Nah and gut's criteria is for product selection is. It's always struck me as a wee bit odd. But I suppose I've never really thought about it that hard. I go in, spot Hob Nobs and just think 'oh, that's a funny one-off product to have in. I wonder if that got sent to them in error'. Because Nah und gut's food section often seems like a whole bunch of incongruous stuff that have accidentally been sent to Berlin instead of Burnley and these strange one-off boxes have ended up in Edeka, where the products haven't been able to sell, and have been sent on to Nah und gut as a last resort before it goes into a skip out the back. Because the other thing about it is that products come and go. One week they will have 30 great big bars of Cadbury's Dairy Milk, and then you won't see that again for a month or two; another time it might be really odd looking Russian biscuits; and the next time maybe it will be Rocky Mountain marshmallows (both regular & mini) or Strawberry Fluff.

One time I had been out all day with the kids and got home at 6pm to discover that I didn't have anything in for dinner. So I nipped round to Nah und gut quickly to get something. As I recall, it was a night when Stevie was playing football so generally he likes to have something hearty and full of carbs and protein. Our local Nah und gut stores all their meat and chicken in an ice-cream style freezer (you know the ones with the slidey-tops that you have to lean into?) , and there's never exactly tons to choose from as there is only one shelf. Anyway on this occasion I got there and all they had were 5 little boxes of quails eggs.

Today I went in to pick up something I'd forgotten at the weekend, and as I walked past the meat fridge I peered in. This time they had packs and packs of chicken hearts - CHICKEN HEARTS! What do you even do with chicken hearts?

So I finally did a search on Nah und gut and discovered (I think - from translating the garbled translation that Google kindly provided me with) that Nah und gut try to provide specialist food catering for the tastes of their local community. So the bigger question is, what kind of people am I living amongst??????

(Incidentally, I went on to the BBC Food website where you can enter an ingredient and find recipes. Should you be salivating at the thought of chicken hearts you might fancy one of their suggestions which actually calls for 12 duck hearts: Salad of duck livers and hearts, snails and bacon with a dandelion and apple salad. ) I know I should be more adventurous, but if it's alright with you I'll pass on the duck livers, duck hearts, snails and bacon, and dandelions and just have the apple thanks.

Oh Fiona, is there nothing you can't do?

I blame Germany. Or Stevie. Or them both really. See normally I could do this. I am sure I could. But the evidence just isn't there, is it? You're not going to be putting in any orders for birthday cakes from me anytime soon. Frau Dietz sent me that link after my rainbow post which included the rather fabulous rainbow jelly on my other blog. But at least you can compare the two and have a good laugh. I certainly did. But it may have been slightly hysterical seeing as it was nearing midnight and I could see no end in sight that didn't include us all getting poisoned somehow by the amount of food colouring I was going to force us all to eat.

It was Hamish's birthday on Saturday and I really, really, wanted to make him that rainbow cake. Even though he wanted me to make him a Bob the Builder cake. I thought I knew better and he would be wowed by it's sheer utter amazing-ness. I also couldn't be bothered ordering coloured icing off the internet.I was just being lazy. So lazy in fact that I didn't actually read the recipe until the day I planned on making it, and then realised I needed gel food dyes. It's hard enough to get the ones I got, so I knew I had no chance of finding gel ones at my local supermarket. And that is why I blame Germany. I just can't get the things I need at short notice. (Ok, so I am also aware that my local Tesco doesn't carry gel food dyes, but they would at least get me out of this mess by selling me a Bob the Builder cake at 1am).

I had been so tired. Hamish was ill and just wanted to cling to me all the time, and Stevie wasn't being much help by being typically Stevie-ish and leaving everything to me, while he sauntered out to watch the tennis. And that is why I blame him. And Andy Murray. Because at least if all I had was a really dire looking blue shaded sponge that looked like the mildew had got to it, then I do know I wouldn't have made icing that sloppy, had it not been nearing 1am. God, I miss Tesco at 1am. It looks like I've thrown a bucket of chip fat at it. And seriously, I think I used about 4 blocks of butter and half a bag of sugar along with the 9 egg whites it required. (Though I used 10 because I reckoned I wasn't being very careful with them and had probably thrown at least one away when I was scooping out the stray yolks that escaped).

I could tell you that in the end it tasted delicious. That the appearance made no difference to my lovely big 3 year old boy (who says that he's actually just turned 7 if you care to ask). But by god. One bite could kill a diabetic it's so sweet and if it wasn't so funny, I could have been terribly hurt by the chanting of "But I don't want that cake! I want a Bob cake!!. That looks yucky!". So, while our insides rot from all the E numbers, and our tongues remain blue for at least another month, I will not be beaten! Just wait! One day I will master this. Or maybe I'll just move back to the UK and get him a Bob cake and enjoy my sleep.

Conceptual eating

Taking my mind off things, last night we went out for a final goodbye meal with our friends who left Berlin today to return to Derby. Stevie has been desperate to try out Vapiano which is a chain of restaurants across Europe selling pizza and pasta. There is one not far from where we live and every time I've passed it it has been really busy. As you walk down the street you can look in the window and see chefs making the pasta by hand, and that has made me quite keen to try it too.

So that's where we went as our friends hadn't been there either. When we arrived we noticed that most of the seating is at high tables with high stools. Not ideal really for a 2 and 3 year old (complete with sledge). But we were also pleased to note that the place was mobbed - that's got to be a good sign when eating out, right? We eventually found a table with seats at a height that would not cause spinal injuries if the kids were to fall from them and a lady at the front desk gave us 4 swipe cards and menus and nicely explained to us how ordering worked. The menu is split into price bands (totally pointless to be honest) and once you have decided what you want you queue up at any of 5 or 6 stations to place your order and watch it being made right before your eyes. Everything about it was just a bit gimmicky. I think you are meant to be impressed by the 'coolness' of standing in a queue to watch your food being prepared, but 1 minute in you can't help but think it's an awful lot like standing in a queue in McDonalds and that's not really that cool.

Once you get to the top of your queue you get to watch your very own meal getting prepared. Again this is fun for about 30 seconds. The sullen chef asks you to select which pasta type you want and then you get to watch him take it from a shelf and tip it out of a takeaway container into a wok-like thing. Once he's made your meal you hand him your little swipe card and he adds the cost on to it. I was queueing with my friend and Hamish and I got my food first along with the kids. I went back to the table and then the guys went up and ordered their pizzas. By the time my friend got back to the table with her meal I had finished mine. And 20 minutes later when the pizzas were ready she had finished hers. Call me old fashioned but I quite like eating together and being served by someone.

The food was ok though, there was just a bit too much concept going on.

Oh and then I thought I got my purse stolen. But it turned out I'd left it on the sofa at home. But not before I 'may' have cancelled my Commerzbank card and got confused by the German recorded message on the 'cancelling your card' phoneline and then went upstairs and disturbed my neighbours and got them to phone the Commerzbank to make sure it really was cancelled. Then we got disturbed by Stevie at the door, who it turned out had been sitting looking at my purse the whole time. But it was worth it because I got to check out the inside of their flat which I hadn't seen before. (Sparse, nice wood floors, extremely large abstract art on the walls, and a running machine in the corner - in case you're wondering)

My green fingered son

My neighbours will be the people with green and blue stains around their mouths until the days they die.

I thought it would be a nice thing to do to make Christmas biscuits with the kids and give them as a little thankyou gift to our upstairs neighbour in thanks for the Dec. 6th gifts she gave the kids. Especially as I wanted to experiment with these pre-made biscuit mix things that I've seen loads of in the fridges of the supermarkets.

We had great fun this afternoon with cutters and the kids could quite happily have made biscuits all afternoon. Hamish's were a little more rustic in style compared to Orla's. Then we baked them, let them cool, and I unleashed the coloured writing icing.

By the time we got to the icing stage the kids had started stripping off. Orla managed to keep her t-shirt on, but Hamish prefers to decorate in the nude. It wasn't until right at the end i.e. the icing was all finished, that Hamish moved from decorating biscuits to colouring in his tummy. Then when I went to get him cleaned up it was nice to discover that in fact it was more like food colouring than just icing. If Kita ask I'm going to tell them it's vegetables that have stained his fingers and stomach. Excessive broccoli ingestion.

Welcome to Anywhere

If you post me back I'll see less of the place, right? Oh and can you send me by DHL? I want to get back in time for Emmerdale.

So you've got a few hang-ups about the war. And you've convinced yourself that Berlin is probably still a war-torn city lying in ruins. And it scores high on your list of 'Places I Wouldn't Visit In A Million Years'. So what do you do when friends and family move there and you'd really quite like to see them?

Fret not, dear readers, for Stevie has a solution.

Welcome to Anywhere Weekends ... where a holiday is a home from home.

• Start off Friday evening with a badly home cooked meal courtesy of my good self.
  
• Then it's off to the Irish Pub for some Guinness and maybe a few Baileys for the ladies.
  
• Saturday brings a whirlwind of excitement with a visit to a tropical paradise all under a roof and hot all year round (~ sounds a bit like the pool at Center Parcs to me), then maybe a spot of shopping at H&M, eh... IKEA, and eh.... Starbucks.
  
• Close your eyes on the way to dinner, enter the wary travellers safe haven, and savour the smell of your McDonalds. Hey, your on your holidays, why not go large?
  
• Sunday brings a day of relaxation, enjoy your surroundings (in the flat) and stop moaning.
  
• Round off your trip on Monday with a quick dash round the airport shops to stock up on Toblerone and Pringles, and before you know it you're back home.

And don't eat all my chocolate digestives while you're here.

Pork comes to those who wait

Oh how refreshed I've felt today. I have stumbled through the day so tired that I can barely think. I tried to think of something simple to make for dinner, but I couldn't think of anything beyond pork. I am utterly sick of it, but still I made it. Pork loins in a honey and mustard glaze. The kids are also sick to death of pork. Hamish asked what we were eating, and so fearful was I that if I said pork he wouldn't eat it, I lied and said chicken. I think we're all sick of chicken too.

I am going to be inspired by this Julie & Julia film (if ever I get to see it) and am going to broaden my culinary repertoire---somehow---not sure how yet. It's taken me 30 odd years to get to pork with a honey and mustard glaze, and I feel I need to act fast before we have pork break downs. Stevie has warned me that if I make "meatballs with that bloody pork mince" one more time in the near future he'll lose the will to live. This from a man who claims "It doesn't matter what you eat, it's just going into your stomach to be churned up and made into energy". It's a recipe book tagline just waiting to happen.

"I'll be back!" she said in a German accent.

Essential reading for new applicants

We've been trying to sort out a nursery for Orla and Hamish. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be. You have to get some forms from the Rathaus (town hall) and fill those out stating what hours you and your partner work and what your income is. The number of hours you work will determine how many hours your children get in Kita (nursery) and the amount you earn determines how much you pay towards it. Nurseries are a lot cheaper here than in the UK. We would expect to pay nearly the same for Orla and Hamish to each do a morning each for 1 week and for that to cost the same as it would for them to be in Kita here full time for a month!

With me not working it might be difficult to get them a Gutschein (voucher) that you have to have to get them into the nursery. However, with my need to learn German this might help as I need the time during the day to go to class. I have hit a bit of a vicious circle though. I need proof for the Gutschein that I have a German class to go to, but I can't book (pay) to go a German course until I know that they have a place in Kita.

Yesterday, I had an appointment with one Kita that was arranged through the relocation company, and had an appointment to phone one that I found that said they 'might' have places. I went with Claudia from the relocation company on the visit to the first Kita. It was massive. Over 150 children, from over 20 nationalities, set in a huge building over 6 floors. The focus the lady said in German which Claudia translated for me is "learning through play, with an emphasis on learning German". That, is exactly what I need. They set up the childrens groups differently to how they would in the UK. The babies from 0 - 2 years old are in one group and then the rest from 2 years old to 6 years old are split up in mixed groups. This is apparently quite the norm in Berlin nurseries. I am not sure that I think it's the best way: I tend to think that the older children are more likely to rule the roost and make sure that they have the best toys, etc. The lady, via the medium of Claudia said that it "encourages the older children to behave more like older brothers and sisters towards the younger ones". My point exactly, but I think we might be looking at it from two different perspectives. I don't doubt that some will have a caring, nurturing side to them and will look out for the younger ones, but I suspect that the 'I want that, I'm going to have that' urge is harder for some to suppress.

Apart from this, the place seemed great. They had loads of facilities and rooms for building, art, music, exercise and dance, and a fantastic garden. In fact it was in the garden that I saw one of the bigger boys 'nurturing' a large spade off of a white-knuckled 3 year old.

What is good is that they do separate the children into age groups for set activities during the day, and they do lots of different things with them. Unlike other Kita's I wouldn't be required to cook (argghh!) a meal for all the children once a week (phew!) and also this place has got space to take both Orla and Hamish. We had heard that it's difficult to find spaces in the Kita's, and that many have very long waiting lists, so the fact that this one is close by and has space is a bonus. On the other hand they can't give us the places until September and then I would need to spend a month going to the Kita with the children until they settled in. Another difference to UK nurseries- where I spent two half hours settling Orla and Hamish in to their old nursery, here they expect you to hang around for 4 weeks. I'm not altogether opposed to this idea especially as Orla and Hamish don't speak the language, but it does mean that I wouldn't be able to start German classes until October.

Later that day I phoned the other Kita that I found near my local supermarket. I really liked the look of this one - lovely toys, quite small, really close to the flat, and they have English lessons on a Friday. I had been in last week and they had told me to phone back when they would know if they had spaces. When I phoned it was a bit odd in that I was quizzed first of all on my level of German. I explained that this was one of the reasons why I was trying to find the children a Kita place, so that I could go and learn it. Once the quizzing was over, she said, "I will go and speak to my boss" and came back moments later and said "Sorry, we did have places, but we have a very long waiting list". Somehow, I suspect that the fact that I don't speak much German might have played a part in it. I was a bit annoyed about that, and I think the worst part is realising that you are a minority and that this is how minority groups tend to be treated at times. That for them it's just easier if they've got parents and children who speak the same language as them. I'll be fluent by Christmas and then I'll sort them out once I can argue the case for equal rights!

Choices, choices, everywhere, and not a Cheerio in sight.

So, I suppose I could now call myself an 'Expat'. Without looking it up in the dictionary I suppose the definition is 'someone who leaves their home country and moves abroad to live.' However, I think more accurately it might be 'someone who moves abroad and on discovery of products (any) from their home country whoops with glee (inwardly)'.

I am intrigued by the whole consumerism thing I've decided. It came as a shock to me how little the german supermarkets had changed in 30 years compared (probably) to how much ours have grown and expanded in terms of choice. When I was looking for pasta sauce in a jar, I was, I'll admit a little horrified that there was little choice beyond choosing between one with basil, the bolognese one that actually includes meat (! that just seems wrong to me when it's not refrigerated) and another one that I didn't recognise. When I'm in the UK why, we literally have shelves, if not a whole half aisle or more of choice. There are probably a dozen different brands and these days even the supermarkets own brand is usually 3 brands where you have a premium version, a budget version, and a something in the middle version for those who are not feeling extravagant or miserly. But why do we need so much choice? I'll admit I am a bit brand loyal in my pasta sauce choices, but sometimes I do think 'mmm.. actually I might go for that one cause I fancy something that is a bit more basil-ly/ garlic-y/ etc'. But more often than not I either stick to the ones I always go for or go with what's on a special offer. But despite this, I am still a bit shocked not to have the choice at all. I'm beginning to suspect that I might actually be expected to make the stuff myself in order to tailor the basil/garlic/etc ratio to my requirements. I mean good lord, I've come here to cook? Not just stir?????

It's not just the pasta sauce section that suffers from such limited choice. Take bin bags. First off I struggled to find them. Initially I put it down to the fact that they do a lot of recycling here, so maybe they just don't have as much stuff that just has to go in the normal bin as we do. But then, I noticed that there are lots of places that sell bins, indeed I have spied quite a lot of very attractive, brightly coloured bins that take my fancy, but I've just not been able to find the bin bags. So then I discovered a shop that sells bin bags. One kind. I don't even know what kind they are yet, but I just bought them anyway, so pleased was I to have just found some. Maybe you don't spend too much time thinking about bin bags, but I seem to have tried nearly every kind you can get. In my not so big Tesco where I used to live we had a bother with their standard 'tie-top' bags in that they were too thin and would rip every time we took them out of the bin full. I also tried their standard 'drawstring' top ones and didn't like those either. Then of course their are the ones for all the different types/sizes of bins, the recycled ones, and our favourite, the somewhat sturdier 'heavy duty' bin bags. Occasionally I would forget this was the one I was after, and would purchase the 'garden' ones, or even sometimes the 'rubble' sacks. When they are all black(or sometimes green, or white), and the Tesco labelling not really that different between them apart from the name it's hard to tell, and you can't really unroll them and hold them up to the light to see how thick they are like a pair of 40 denier tights.

I've talked to Stevie about this whole choice thing. He is not really the ideal person to talk to about this as he is perfectly suited to the way of life here and I think is somewhat odd in that he has very little brand loyalty to him. "Oh, I just need shaving foam. Anything will do.", but he does understand that he lives with a person that spends a couple of minutes examining bananas before making a final choice because of their need to have them perfect. This often means we have no bananas or very expensive bananas. Now we just have bananas - with marks, bruises, and other bits and bobs that I don't like, but I'm still working on the German that will allow me to say "Hold on Mr Stallholder, let me have a look at those ones 3rd row from the back, 5 bunches in....nah, they have a black ridge on them. Wait, what about the ones 2 down from them and 4th in from the right? mmm...maybe not, they have too many dots, but keep them aside just in case they're the best you have". No here, I ask for bananas, he picks them up, and I just have to say 'Great, thanks'. Ha, ha, ha, I know, I probably sound mental being so pernickety about bananas, but it's just one of the many things that make me the lovely person I am. Oh, woe is me on the banana front....

Stevie thinks the way it is here is right. That we don't need endless choice, that life is simpler here, and maybe they've got their priorities right; that instead of wasting time weighing up which cornflake might taste better, they just buy THE cornflake, and stop thinking about consumer products the whole time. But me, I always quite liked that about food shopping. I'd get a little 'ooh!' of excitement when I'd see that there was a new brand of yoghurt, or that a brand I was already familiar with had now branched out into a slightly different area with a couple of new products. Have you seen the new Cadbury's chocolate cheesecakes and things? That was the last one that made me go 'ooh!'.

So here I am, where the only area of massive choice seems to be in Paprika crisp world. Why? Why? Why? I treid a different supermarket yesterday, called 'Neu und Gut'. I didn't hold out much hope for it. It had all the glamour from the outside of a pop-up flea market shop. The doors looked rickety, you could see toilet roll just piled up in the window in a scabby manner, but in we went. And I kind of fell in love with it a little bit. They had some British goods. A whole display stand of 'boxed' McVities Digestives, Milk Chocolate Digestives, and Hob Nobs. I stood in front of it and more than likely chuckled out loud. I bought some digestives and some milk chocolate digestives. I'm not that fond of digestives, but the kids might like them, and I would rather have had plain chocolate digestives than milk, but I was not leaving that shop without them. God knows, they probably cost me about 16 Euros, who knows, but what price is a little taste of home?