Closing Summer Lake BBQ ...

The paddle boat is taking on water fast as the 7 of us balance precariously on its plastic form. Spreading ourselves in the optimistic hope that by distributing our weight we can make it back to the shore of the lake before the water level gets critical. Hubby is laughing at us from his seat on shore with the girls by the grill enjoying a cold glass of chardonnay and toasting marshmallows, while his crazy wife and a few of the others desperately attempt to bail the increasing flood with our wine glasses. The back begins to disappear beneath the surface as we scramble, reminiscent of Kate and Leonardo, to the bow of the boat, getting our asses wet in the process. Ruby takes a mouthful of her wine before remembering it was the same glass she has been bailing with ... wet and wonderful as summer sets for another year ... :O) katrin

Island Paradise

When we packed up the troops and headed off to the island Thursday last I was not an optimist. Three little girls, gear for weather both good and bad - the forecast said rain but it's August for goodness sake - a 3 hour train ride and then a boat from the mainland, spades, boots, sun lotion, buckets, suitcases, macs, bathing suits - the list was endless. When the sun fell behind the clouds and the rain began bouncing against the windows of the train car as we drew closer to the coast my heart began to sink. Even the boat began to toss in the swell of the short distance between mainland and island ... But boy can appearances be deceiving ...

The sun never stopped shining for three nights and four days on my paradise island of Norderney. Even the girls found themselves enough to do. We were able to wander along the endless stretches of white sand from the beachfront hotel to the lighthouse 15 kilometers away. And back again. My hair was full of sand and my skin became sunkissed and red and my head cleared and hubby's libido bubbled to the surface again. Heaven.

Now back again on the mainland there are still bits of me which did not return yet and for which I am waiting so that I can get the hell to work this morning! good luck I don't think ... there is my soul which is still sitting in the 'Milchbar' on the beach drinking endless cappucinos and watching the whitecapped waves crash against the shore while I read. Some part of the libido of my college days is still in 'da Sergios' drinking white wine and eating tortellini stuffed with walnuts and gorgonzola while the full figured blonde mother of two across from us argues with her husband on the one hand and flirts with me on the other which makes me both inwardly blush and yet very excited. My heart is still wandering along the beach accompanied by the soundtrack of wind and waves and gulls. My tongue is enjoying the simple fare of cheeseburger and perfectly salted fries at the 'Surf Cafe' - and yes the wind blown sand must have something to do with their perfect saltiness and texture.

A perfect long weekend. ahoy! katrin

Recipes: Green Tomatoe and Gooseberry Chutney

1 kg small green tomatoes, cut in half.
500 gram gooseberries, cut in half.
250 gram apple, peeled and diced.
250 gram brown sugar.
150 gram raisins.
200 gram chopped onion.
splash of olive oil.
225 ml cider vinegar.
1/2 teaspoon salt.
1 tablespoon mustard seeds.
2 teaspoons ground ginger.
1 teaspoon cinnamon.

bring all the ingrediants to a boil but only half of the tomatoes and gooseberries.
let cook out until 1/4 volume is reduced and thickened.
add remaining gooseberries and tomatoes - stir in.
store in jars in 'fridge when cool. enjoy any time!

ciao! katrin

A Summer Cold

I thought I was going to make a pretty clean break of it over the weekend. Friday I was nursing along a nice head cold and had opened a bottle of Shiraz to help me ease through the snuffle filled nights while the girls stayed with my mother and my man was … with his buddies playing poker? Or he was in his workroom sawing through reinforced cement? There was certainly a roar coming from somewhere downstairs. Anyway. But I just couldn’t get out of wishing my best friend Gail a happy birthday; it only coming along once a year.

So Saturday night I’m in this bar amidst a gaggle of womanhood, paying my respects, buying Gail and sundry drinks, promising myself that I’ll only stay an hour, my sinuses playing merry hell in my head, when I feel a sturdier than normal female presence slowly envelope me. I flag down the bartender for another wine spritzer and flip through the snack menu. A manicured hand reaches around me and takes up my lighter. I turn to the left and a blonde looms, bigger than life, beside me. It takes me ten seconds to wish I were in my bed. It takes me ten minutes chatting with her before I realise he’s a transvestite.

I excuse myself and make my way to the little girl’s room, and once inside turn on the faucet, rest my throbbing forehead against the cold porcelain of the sink and silently count in prime numbers. I get as far at 47 before the door opens and hits me in the side, smacking my forehead against the gurgling faucet. “Thanks for that sister!” I tear off a handful of paper towel and wipe the water from my blouse. Why didn't I stay in bed? …