No, we’re not talking about Little Jack Horner (…who sat in a corner, eating his Christmas pie. He put in his thumb and pulled out a plumb, and pronounced it the best thing he ever had.*), but rather about Pflaumenkuchen, or German plum cake.
*The above may or may not be an embellished version of the classic nursery rhyme.
Now, before we put on our reading glasses and settle down for a nice history lesson (or lack thereof), you’ll have to sit through an epic story that happened before I ate the Pflaumenkuchen (or you can just skip this part and go to the end, although that would be rude).
Having dutifully gotten the church schedule the night before, my friend and I set off to church at 10 am. We arrived, opened the doors of the church, and…
There was no one there. Ooookay.
Three minutes before 10 am, a whole slew of people dressed up for a cocktail party shuffled into the church. So, we followed.
After about 5 minutes, we realized it was a private baptism. Awkward. Sheepishly, we slipped out, and decided to take pictures of the church instead.
We ended up waiting until 11:30 for church to finally start. I think I’m going straight to Heaven after that.
As a reward, we had a little pastry at the bakery nearby. Guess what I chose?
Surprise, surprise…Pflaumenkuchen! (as if you hadn’t already guessed that…)
And now, for the brief history lesson: Pflaumenkuchen is a traditional German pastry.
Okay, now to the pictures! (I said a “brief history;” I’m a woman of my word.)
If you’ve noticed that this picture looks extremely different from the first, you are right (I applaud your astute attention to details, because I probably wouldn’t have noticed). I first tried Pflaumenkuchen last summer in Munich.
Pflaumenkuchen is basically like a sweet roll dough topped with fresh plums, arranged so the cut edges stand up in little points on the cake. It’s not that sweet, so it’s traditionally served with a sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar or with a cream sauce (both of which I had forgone; I wanted the plum in all its glory).