Cheezy Quakers, S'mores, Three Country Point

I seriously heart southerners. Who else would drive by your place on a Friday afternoon to check if you were in? For Germans, it's a serious faux-pas. (side linguistic note: Shouldn't that be "fait pas" or something? "Not do" rather than "fake not"? Or maybe I just don't know what I'm talking about.) I was cleaning the house because I didn't know when my host family would be back (they still aren't), and I hadn't vaccumed all week plus I had quite a few dirty dishes (as you'll note from my baking excursions as you continue reading this narration). We had a coffee and she waited patiently while I finished everything.

Then our question was, "What to do now?" We had an entire Friday afternoon on our hands and Europe at our doorstep! Amanda, the lovely Alabamian, suggested: three country point! A brilliant plan! So we high-tailed it to her loud, muffler-less automobile and found our way to the site where the lands of Belgium, Holland, and Germany intersect. It stands atop of a substantial hill and also marks the highest point in the Netherlands! We found it truly remarkable. Very improper tourists as we are, each of us forgot her camera, so I stole this photo from Wikipedia:


Red is Belgium, Yellow is Netherlands, Black is Germany. You see that little triangle of red that's between Belgium and Germany? I think that that's supposed to mark the land that encompasses Kelmis, my technical town of residence, because in the early 1800s or something, it was it's own seperate country on account of its substantial copper resources; the surrounding contries did not want conflict inflicted by it. Sort-of like what Belgium is in the first place, but that's another story.

Then we went downhill to the Netherlands to buy marshmellows, chocolate, and crossed our fingers for the chance of Graham Crackers or something similar. The latter we did not find, but were happy with the substitution of some Theebiscuits, as they were referred to in their Dutch name. Because of my German skillz, I was able to read the ingredients and decipher that niether the chocolate nor the biscuits contained animal products. The marshmellows, I knew before we embarked on or mission, did contain gelatin, which is a translucent, colourless, brittle, nearly tasteless solid substance, extracted from the collagen inside animals' connective tissue, specifically that of (I believe) our friend, the pig, but I'm not sure. (Thankyou, wikipedia.) Nevertheless, we lone Americans knew that the Europeans had to succomb to the delicious campfire treat known as a S'more. Ethics were temporarily cast aside and I made my way determindly to the check-out, after a short stop in the beer asile.


^A Euro S'more^

Taking advantage of the free house, I invited some Eurofriends over to share my hearth. The Frenchman pretended to be disgusted when he tried his first, "proper" S'more, but we knew that he was really just trying to hide the orgastic pleasure bursting with rich, chocolatey flavour inside his mouth. There was a German/Dutchman as well, who partook of a biscuit and marshmellow sans chocolate as he didn't care for the cocoa-rich sweet very much. He found it odd that he was supposed to eat the entire marshmellow, despite it's charred exterrior, but he indulged all the same. Amanda and I reminisced the days when we could eat about 100 S'mores in one girl-scouty evening and not vomit. After one each on this evening, we were quite full.

And last, but not least, I made some Cheezy Quakers from Céline's have cake, will travel! blog.

recipe here.

They were everything I'd expected them to be and oh so much more. They'd be a great addition to a light, brothy soup or just to serve up to some guests at afternoon tea. They're nice and flaky and I found them cheezy, but my omni friend, Amanda, did not. However, she still enjoyed them. Next time, I think I'll try adding some dried basil, oregano or thyme to the mix to make it a little more diverse.