The Drama Chef

Prose – Travel – Recipes

Tag: sweet

Women’s Kumquat & Lemon Cake

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You live in the western world, in a highly privileged country of Central Europe. Economy is doing great, transportation is excellent, it is safe, it is pretty. You are a white, highly educated woman. You are employed. You have great carreer prospects, possibly a bright future ahead of you. But.

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Do you have a long-term relationship or are you one of these polygamic monsters? Or even worse, are you homosexual? Are you older than thirty and still unmarried? Oh poor thing, your boyfriend just won’t propose, will he? If you’ve been married for some time, why don’t you have children yet? If you have one child, why don’t you have another – don’t you know only children are lonely and miserable? Do you cook and prepare snacks for your familly? Don’t you know their health depends on you? Oh my God, you look so tired today, why aren’t you wearing make-up? When was the last time you got a manicure, you should not neglect your looks like that. Why do you care so much for your carreer, a woman’s destination is to have kids. Have you put on weight?

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If you are ambitious and hard-working, you are a bossy cold-hearted bitch. Women should be tender and sweet and understanding. You should always give up your wishes and dreams, you should not complain, you should not exagerate. Honey, that’s just not what good girls do. Yes, your male colleagues are much better paid than you for the same job. You should be thankful you even have a job, you should be thankful you can vote. So what if your boss made a sexistic comment on your clothes, what if one of your co-workers just won’t stop harassing you until you go out with him. A woman’s no can be a no, it is a maybe. Come on now, you know you want it, you wouldn’t wear these slutty clothes if you didn’t. You had it coming. Why are you screaming like that, are you a hysterical feminist? When was the last time you had sex, that should calm you down, that should shut you up! Shut up, shut up!

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How many of these lines have you heard yourself? How many of these things have you told other women, or have you thougth of? Take a moment to think today, take a moment to censor yourself and your words before you attack a woman next time. Take a moment to talk to the men and women in your life about sexism, discrimination, inequality, solidarity. Read and think and read again. Protect yourself, protect other women. Help and support and stand by each other. And let’s have some cake now, not to leave you with a bitter taste in your mouth.

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Peach Lavender Vlaai

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I am walking at a narrow plastered alley, on a cold Monday morning. The air is crisp and the skies are pale blue. I have half an hour until my meeting, so I choose to wander around aimlessly, looking at doorsteps, windows and rooftops. A small bakery looks really busy, people going in and out, holding big bags. I stop at their window. Piles of cookies, bread of all sorts, cakes and croissants and mini pizzas. But most of all, pies! Fruit and cream and custard pies of all sizes and decorations. Small explanatory signs in Dutch: Vlaai.

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Rijstevlaai, Kruimelvlaai, Kersenvlaai. Vlaai, vlaai, vlaai. What is this???

I go in the bakery. I come out holding a box with 3 different Vlaai pieces. I sit on a bench at the church park nearby. It’s the beginning of a new chapter in my life: The Dutch Vlaai!

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Coconut Chocolate Bread

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He said he would come by around 10. They had their first group assignment at the University, he was sitting across her at the tutorial room. The rest of the students knew each other, groups formed quickly. At the end it was only her and him left, the newcomers, the foreigners. She was blushing, she could feel her cheecks changing colour, her voice was trembling slightly. Yes, sure they could work together. Hi, Lydia. Nice to meet you, I ‘m Boris. Firm handshake, hers was always weak and sweaty. On Saturday morning. No, the library was too crowded. He had two flatmates, it was always noisy in his home. Her place? Kate was going away for the weekend, she would be alone. Sure. Can I have your number, just in case I don’t find it? She had to look her number up in her mobile, she could never memorise it. Made him laugh. See you on Saturday then.

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Raspberry Vanilla Cream Rolls

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It all happened randomly. I found beautiful, red, fragrant raspberries at the market that day. It had just rained, everything smelled freshly washed, a light premonition of spring floating above freshly-cut tulips and roses, arranged next to the piles of fruits. The clouds still hanging above us gray, mooving lazily some meters, then coming back to place. Not a ray of sun touched us that morning.

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Vanilla cream pie/bougatsa hybrid

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You are six years old, on a sunny Sunday. You are walking in the quiet streets, holding the hand of your gramma that looks huge and wise and smiles at you. The world is bright and safe, for you and for the street cats that lie on the cars, stretching in the sun or sitting in a Sphynx position, their eyes like slots, almost roaring but not quite.

You visited your aunts today, to show them your first drawings. You are six now, so you go to school. They are real drawings, water colours and everything, with your name written on the right-down corner, the letters big and uneven, going slightly downwards. A grown girl they say. You blush and you look down at your Sunday shoes, black with a silver buckle, already a bit dusty from a short run in the park. You wanted to pick up daisies, but gramma said you shouldn’t. Grandpa is softer; he lets you pick flowers and laughs at you when the tip of your nose gets yellow from the pollen. My little bee he says. Sometimes he catches a butterfly for you, but not often. When you ask why he says that when you touch too much a butterfly’s wings you destroy them, and they can fly no more. So you never ask for a butterfly again, but you always go and watch them close when they are sitting on the flowers – not touching.

“What are you thinking little one?” She looks at you from above, half-concerned, half-amused. Not waiting for the answer – “are you hungry? Let’s go and get something sweet. But you won’t tell mama or grandpa, deal?” Deal.

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