hey, act your age, not your shoe size!
Anyone ever say that to you? Well, you won't hear it in Germany because as many confused expats have discovered, they measure feet differently here. A newborn, should he actually find himself in need of a pair of shoes, might wear a size 13, whereas a big guy like Dirk Nowitzki wears a size 50.
Mr. M, quite the big guy himself, is somewhere in between, and as of yesterday, his age IS his shoe size and will be until early March of next year. Yep, 46 on his feet and in his head. Another birthday come and gone.
A 46 is about the equivalent of a Canadian size 12 1/2 and while my husband does sometimes act like a pre-teen, the expression just doesn't cut it in this country, I'm afraid. Here are his big clodhoppers compared to my ladylike size 40.(And please excuse our dust, the front yard is still a construction site)
Celebrating your birthday in Germany can be rough. There's just no getting out of it unless you're like me and refuse to participate in The German Birthday Rules. Poor M. M had to provide breakfast for 20 of his colleagues yesterday morning. Breakfast in this case being several kilograms of raw seasoned minced pork (Mett in German), a bag of onions, various cold cuts, cheese, butter, dozens of fresh rolls and myriad bottles of sparkling wine to wash it all down with. Oof! Stomachs of steel, those Germans, especially when it comes to free food.
After work a visit to the parental units was in order since the father-in-law doesn't get out much any more. Cake and coffee, coffee and cake, same old, same old. As if Mr. M hadn't had enough, as soon as he arrived home the neighbours dragged him over to their place for more wine. While he was gone another neighbour showed up with a jar of homemade jam for 'The Boss'. Germans love calling each other on their birthdays and the phone rang off the hook all evening, including a couple of calls from Canada to shoot the breeze.
At the birthday boy's request I attempted a rack of lamb (recipe and video!) and I must say that it was very simple and totally delicious served with sauteed green beans and cherry tomatoes and potato croquettes.
For dessert I made an Austrian cake called a Donauwelle which translates as 'Danube wave' I guess because of the wavy pattern of the batter and chocolate topping. The sour cherries sink into the white and dark batter while the cake is baking and layers of vanilla buttercream and bittersweet chocolate finish it off later. Trust me, a small piece is all you need.
As you can imagine, by the end of the evening the 46-year-old Mr. M was really showing his age and had to go to bed early to rest up for next year!