feasting on Friday

well. . . we have already had some hot cross buns recently so I thought I'd find one of my favourite deserts to share with you, dear reader. . . but I know you're a little fussy (and there's nothing wrong with that, I mean I don't like rhubarb - I really really don't like rhubarb - but I'd rather eat rhubarb than eat baked beans, so there we have it) and on the way to finding it (the favourite desert), I wondered if you might like a slice of caraway seed cake?

sadly not the one my Nana used to make (bless her nylon stockings) and not even my version of it, since she didn't leave me a recipe (not that she left me any recipes, so I don't know how to make her macaroons on rice paper either) (oh! how I loved being at her house when she baked, she'd let me eat the left over bits of rice paper) (and once she made me a coca-cola-float - which was unheard of, given my parents didn't let us have fizzy drinks and I didn't even know my grandmother had ice cream in her freezer!)

and while I was thinking of caraway seeds, I came across this. . .

which is a kind of custard tart with cardamon and nutmeg and saffron, but that's not what I was looking for either - altho the next offering is close

(rice and coconut custard, wrapped in banananana leaf)
.

but not close enough, for, dear reader, my favourite desert is a simple custard tart

altho not just any old custard tart but the variety served in Portugal - which makes it a Portuguese custard tart (really crispy, flaky pastry) (yum!) (I'm sure it's gluten free. . .) (well, for my purposes here it is)

but for anyone who wants something savoury, how about a pretzel?

now, you know that things are a little random and unplanned around here and work on a kind of "what is she thinking of, and where does that take her" basis. . .

so, by complete coincidence, I wonder to myself "what's a pretzel all about then" and research its provenance (I read this c/o the wondrous world of wiki and quote it almost verbatim - however, I did edit it, for your convenience) (so now you're going to read it too) (really, you have to, cos if you don't my last two paragraphs won't make any sense) (not that I knew that when I started out) (not that any of this makes any sense, but then I figured you'd cottoned onto that already):

"There are numerous accounts on the origin of the looped pretzel. Most have religious backgrounds and were invented by monks: in 610 AD "...an Italian monk invents pretzels as a reward to children who learn their prayers - he calls the strips of baked dough, folded to resemble arms crossing the chest, 'pretiola' ("little rewards")"; the looped pretzel may have evolved from a Greek ring bread which was served in monasteries for the Last Supper 1,000 years ago; in Germany there are stories that pretzels were the invention of desperate bakers; pretzels might have originated from a ban of heathen baking traditions, such as in form of sun wheels, the pretzel emerging as a substitute; the German name "Brezel" may derive also from Latin bracellus (a medieval term for "bracelet"), or bracchiola ("little arms").

"Within the Catholic church, pretzels were regarded as having religious significance for both ingredients and shape. Pretzels made with a simple recipe using only flour and water could be eaten during Lent, when Christians were forbidden to eat eggs, lard, or dairy products like milk and butter, thus becoming associated with both Lent (fasting) and Easter. Pretzels were even hidden on Easter morning just like eggs are hidden today. The classic pretzel's three-hole shape begins to take form: the three holes represent the Christian Trinity of "Father, Son and Holy Spirit"; pretzels are thought to bring luck, prosperity, and spiritual wholeness. The wedding phrase "tying the knot" began when a pretzel was used to tie the knot between two prominent families. . .

". . .The pretzel's loops stood for everlasting love."

so there we go - another wonderful synchronicity chez moi! I start off seeking a desert made from eggs and milk (without even thinking about the almost end of Lent) and end up offering you a pretzel (without realising the potential seasonal significance of the gesture). . .

. . .one might almost think that there is a higher power at work here somewhere (unless, like me, you are a firm believer in coincidence and synchronicity, for which I shall invent a new word synchronicidence) and I know you don't need me to wish you luck, prosperity, spiritual wholeness or everlasting love, but I do send you* my very best for your Friday. . .

(-:
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XXX

(*yes! you!!)