Dining in May/1907

Before moving on to the Edwardian Age, I wanted to add an anecdote I remembered yesterday about Angi. I was housesitting in the countryside, feeling intimidated not just because I was far away from my family and other comforts of the Berlin apartment, but also because at different times I was told e.g. about organized house burglars roaming the neighbourhood and preying on large houses, a ferret that might run around on the floor above and making creepy noises, etc. She happened to telephone and was sympathetic when I mentioned that it was a little lonely; and after a moment's thought added (in German, and I'm paraphrasing), 'Well, there's always alcohol.' It was quite funny, especially since I didn't expect the joke, and cheered me up.

*

Last week at work left me squeezed out of energy like last season's orange, and I was writing about it late into the night so that I went to sleep too late and too unhappy. To be annoyingly vague and self-righteous-sounding: I've been reminding myself that if I rely on my surroundings to stay morally pure, I'm never really going to learn to stand up for what feels right to me. And if I stand up for it to the best of my ability, it is no reflection on me if the opposite still happens. I did my duty toward the other person by showing what might be a better course, honestly and directly; and it is not up to me to dictate their actions.

It was nearly noon when I woke up and went to the kitchen. The others had eaten breakfast and I decided to begin cleaning. There has to be a quicker way to scrub the floor; it ended up taking over twenty minutes. But it did look cleaner! And, unwisely, I forgot to eat breakfast. A croissant with my name on it was languishing in the bag uneaten, while my nerves figuratively pulled thinner and thinner.

Then I went to the market, and remembered belatedly a Greek colleague's sage advice to beware the fact that two-thirds of Berlin might be in the streets today to enjoy the return of sunny weather. The shopping streets and the market itself were crowded, and a few market stalls were wiped almost clean, harassed-looking attendants surveying their largely empty bins. It was also a little warmer than I'd like. Another argument for going to the market earlier in the morning.

It looks like asparagus season is beginning: white asparagus and green asparagus; 'local' Beelitz asparagus from Brandenburg and other asparagus from further afield. But they were well balanced by the usual produce instead of forming a massive, uniform wall.

Returning home, I picked up a bunch of orange tulips from the flower shop. And then before lunch, I took the unfortunately uncharacteristic step of taking out our empty jars and a big bag of compost to dispose of them in the courtyard. I feel a little less than intellectually brilliant for being so enthralled by the holes with black flexible flaps that were sunk on two sides of the dumpster lids, to make it easier to dispose of glass jars.

*

Dinner (a little pretentious this week, maybe?):

Mushroom soup

With Kräutersaitling mushrooms and a roux with beef bouillon

Boiled potatoes

Seasonal salad

Spinach, red-and-white icicle radishes, frisée salad, cucumber, and fresh dill,

with simple vinaigrette

Eggs, garnished

Egg halves filled with an egg yolk, cream cheese, crème fraîche and paprika mixture

Bread

*

I had a nap right after this. My brain was still spinning with workplace thoughts as they had during my walks to and from the market. But I felt a whole lot better later, and the traces of tension and the budding headache melted away.

Teatime was scones, lemon curd, blueberries from the market, nettle tea flavoured with fennel, and substitute coffee; brown bread sandwiches made from the leftover egg filling and cucumber slices and dill; and leftover salad.

Afterward I spent most of the evening finishing last month's Elle Germany. The recommendation of a 3,000 Euro leather powder-blush carrying-case shocked me, but I managed to surmount the rage. I was mostly reading it because a new issue arrived today. I thought about doing more art and sketching something instead, but ... Anyway, after that was done, and I'd read more of an essay in Apartheid, I returned to the 21st century before midnight.

Hopefully next week the trip to 1908 will be more experimental. 1906 was nice but 'nothing to write home about'; and I feel like my imagination is letting me down.