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My grandmother once said:

Men don’t stay with a woman because of a nice pair of **** or a well-shaped ***. Men stay with women who care for them.

My grandmother was born in the early 1920’s in a little village in Eastern Europe. She was raised in that picturesque landscape she would love (and long for) until the day she died. When that day arrived, she had lived twice as long in Germany that she had lived in her homeland. Still, she was neither German nor Eastern European. She was a crazy mixture of two cultures. And that has shaped who I am today.

Getting back the not-so-grandmother-like quote of hers. It was some years ago in my late twenties, and I had been on a business trip for a few days and I had called her when I was driving home from the airport – this was a little tradition between the two of us. You would expect a grandmother to ask questions about the business trip, the city I had been in, or how my career was developing.

Instead, she asked outright “FOR GODS SAKE, What did the poory guy eat during my absence?!?” (Tip: If your grandmother is asking a question like this, don’t ask for clarification if you are talking about the dog (who got fed by the boyfriend, no worries) or the boyfriend, who probably lived on frozen pizza). After she stopped bellowing at me she told me that she admires me for being such a tough business-bitch, but that she feels sorry at the same time, because it means so much to care for those you love. I argued that I did care; I had just bought my boyfriend his favorite Swiss chocolate at the airport. That ended in another ten minutes of yelling. I guess “caring” meant more than just buying chocolate for someone.

She then said to me:

There was a time where I was happy to even have food. I did not choose to be a housewife. I do not even like cooking. But the woman in me wanted to prepare healthy and tasty food for my family. That’s luxury & happiness.

She then added those comment about **** and ****.

Not that I would have shared her old-fashioned view on women. Not that I would have promised to “improve”. Not that I would have intended to become some Stepford housewife. But something did change as I discovered that there was a spark of truth in her words.I am still a feminist by my grandmother´s standards.

But damn it, grandmother, you were right!

It does make happy to care about those you love. Even in a culinary way.

By opening my eyes to this caring-shit, she unintentionally doomed me to balance the impossible: being a tough business-bitch in charge of her career but also being a caring woman who is preparing fresh meals and doing all those other related household-horrors. 

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So here you will find the adventures of a tough-as-shit, vamp-lady who is rattling the pots and pans in high heels, and spreading the scent of Dior’s poison all over in the kitchen. I am playing housewife with smokey eyes & red lips. And arriving to the next business presentation there may be goat-cheese-leftovers on my Versace-Clutch. Ooops.

Still those traditional grandmother-values have enriched my modern life significantly. Changing sheets & preparing a dinner for my partner makes me happy. Even though I am still in charge of my career. Different to my grandmother I always have the choice. I can choose to do that stuff. Or leave it. Nobody is forcing me.

That’s why I strongly believe that there can be a well-working inbetween.

As so many other women I am always into finding new tweeks & perks that enable me to combine both: traditional lifestyle as well as the modern life’s requirements. Having an efficent time table it may work to care for your loved ones, your career and, which is most important of all, for yourself (No matter what guys think about it or not we still want to keep those well-shaped ***. Don’t we ladies?).

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I have been far away from home for many years now. I wanted to see the world and I have seen it. Or at least some nearby parts oft it, haha. I am back home for a year now. Home means the Spessart. You can imagine Spessart as a low montain range in central germany. It is officially placed in Bavaria but borders to Hessen as well. Speaking of cultural heritage you should consider it part of both federal states. Historically the Spessart is a very poor countryside because it lacks most natural resources and did not raise to touristic fame either. By the way: this is the historical basis for the famous Spessart bandits. You may have heard of them. If not. Keep reading my blog ;)

Translated from ancient local idioms “Spessart” means as much as “Forest of Woodpeckers”

Today everything has changed of course. You can live in the beautiful nature of the Spessart – we have deep forests, sweeping fields, a lot of smaller and greater lakes and the vineyards of course – and work in the surrounding cities like Frankfurt.

My wanderings across those picturesque landscape means inspiration to me. Not only in a culinary way. This is why Spessart has to play a role in my articles for sure.

My grandmother would have been happy to have me back. Unfortunately she died just one year before my return.

But now we are about to start. With recipes. With stories. With way too much make-up. With shoes that are not made to wander a low mountain range. And some Eastern Europe in the Spessart.

This is Salt, Pepper & Poison. The Divalicious Food Couture.

Love,
V.

PS. Oh, yes. Some asked me whether I would write my articles in german or english. The answer is easy and explains why I seem to ignore your reco’s on finally choosing for a language: neither nor. By guess and by gosh! To me creativity is somehow connected to language. This is why I want to keep the luxury to write my recipes and articles in that language they are coming to my mind.

Szerencsére nem beszéltem nagyanyám anyanyelvén. (Lucky you, I don’t speak my grandmother’s native tongue)