07 June 2014

Patisserie Discoverie | Apfelstrudel


Patisseries - Vienna edition! Does that make it a viennoiserie ohohoho


I have just returned from the depths of Google and I have no answer. As you are by now very aware, I'm not qualified to categorize pastries in any category other than yum and blegh, and there aren't any bakers in this hostel that I know of, so we'll just have to live with not knowing. I know, life isn't fair. 

At the end of my walking tour in Vienna, I stopped at Cafe Central for a coffee break. This is where Freud and co. hung out way back when. I'm skeptical of all these "so-and-so hung out here" claims. I sometimes hang out in the downstairs common area of TDC, doesn't make it worth the trek. How many times does a famous person need to visit a place for it to claim that they hung out there?

My personal standard for strudel has long been that scene in Inglorious Basterds.
So tense. Much acting. Such pacing. But all I can focus on is the strudel. It looks so damn good. This strudel? This strudel was good. But it wasn't wait-for-the-cream good. Still, I can take heart in that the fumes of Freud's breath must have infused into the powdered sugar and elevated the strudel to the next level. Or something. This is how these things work, right?

But what do I know about Austrian cuisine? Is there even such a strudel out there? Or did I fabricate what one tastes like based on ten seconds of film?
Fun Fact! Strudel is derived from Middle High German for whirlpool. There's some appropriately ominous rock music coming out from the basement of this hostel right now. 

It's a layered pastry made of very thin dough, with a filling that can be either sweet or savory. The dough is wrapped around the filling until it has been used up. Apfelstrudel filling usually consists of apples (I should hope so), sugar, cinnamon, raisins, and bread crumbs. It is then sprinkled with powdered sugar and can be served with ice cream, custard, vanilla sauce, and yes, wait for it...cream. 

I don't know, guys. It was a great strudel, it was just shy of the strudel of my dreams. Does that strudel even exist? Or do I settle for ingesting Freud breath-fumes? Will I start obsessing over my father?

The only way to find the strudel of my dreams, I guess, is to eat more strudel until I do. 

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