of food. and humans.

Vegan Bakesales in Dresden?

In food, sweet, Uncategorized on April 8, 2012 at 4:42 pm


t’s time for me to come back to this. At least to tell the few people who look at what I write about this side project I’ve been dreaming about/worrying over/finally making happen. After years of blog reading and wishing I could do things like I see on Seitanismymotor and Bittersweet and Veganpassion (and and and), I’m slowly breaking into the DIY bakesale scene here in Dresden.

Nothing that hasn’t been done before elsewhere, but something rarely seen in this ‘valley of the clueless’: set up a table at hardcore shows, fill it with vegan cupcakes a la VCTOTW and watch people smile.



pretty things.

In food, people, savory, sweet on July 4, 2010 at 5:45 pm

The lay out bit of this whole shebang has yet to be figured out, and this post is more of a mishmash of things enjoyed over the last few weeks. Let it be jumbled, I say! For if tastiness is defined by structure, then I would rather experience a clusterfuck of vegan mouth jooooyyyyyyaaarrrrgh (the tiredness of the week just hit me. have lost. all ability. to form. coherant. sentence.)

500 Vegan Recipes: Oatmeal Cookie-Topped Pear Crumble

In my parents household this dish would be named pear crisp, not crumble, and necessitates in the desire for a sweet, yet somewhat healthy treat. The topping recipe is now my canon for future crisps, as it truly mimics that crunchy, chewy oatmeal cookie that screams to be paired with vanilla (soy) ice cream. The horse pan makes me giggle.

The weekend of June 18th saw the coming and going of my neighborhood’s annual street festival. Established in 1990 after Germany’s reunification, the contemporary development supposedly has gone the route of commercialism. No longer the home-made, politically influenced street fair, many locals complain. As my apartment is located smack dab within the square that is the Neustadt, the throbbing techno mashed together with power-cord heavy punk rock wafting from the bar across the street caused more complaints to come from my mouth than euphoric yelps. Then again, I’m sure they didn’t offer vegan┬ásausage 20 years ago…

Summer also finally arrived in Dresden, and so the hallowed rite of grilling has become a weekend activity. My new simple favorite are shish-kabobs: marinated soy medallions, eggplant, pepper, garlic, onions.. they just look so pretty. pretty can also be associated with this graffiti. Just so you know.




In people on July 2, 2010 at 7:37 pm

Introducing D. My partner, lover, challenger, and friend. Portland born, he seems to still be looking for the idealistic “home”, yet doubts the necessity of that being a particular place. Maybe more a combination of people and social factors. We learned of each other’s existence in 2003, but found each other again in 2007. Since then, I’ve experienced more joy and sorrow than my imagination could ever create, but maybe that is part of the trite, overused, word love. How does one begin to describe a being of such subjective, personal importance? He has to come first, and yet I fear this pitiful quintet will absolutely fail in doing him justice. To quote that novel which takes place in the city we currently live in.. “And so it goes.”

Sharlene & D. May 2nd, 2010. Alaun Park. Vegan Bake Sale.

5. D. plays guitar. Not only that, but he’s collected umpteen (real numbers, 10?) pedals, an Orange tiny terror (hand carried to Dresden from England), an Alesis Drum Machine, and who knows what other little gadgetries with which he creates his music. I admire and appreciate his dreams of living from his music. Could there be a better goal? When we re-met, music was not what drew me to his person, but I have a distinct memory of walking into his room in Tacoma, seeing his cherry red guitar, and thinking “He will be mine, oh yes, he will be mine.” Right now his main project, The Orange Dinosaurs, consists of him and the above mentioned toys. Dresden has yet to show love in the way of gigs, and I find myself wanting to be the most extreme of bandgirlfriends. e.g. this is me telling you to listen, LISTEN, and tell all your friends .

4. D. doesn’t choose the path of least resistance. In the last three years he’s moved from Portland, to Tacoma, to Seattle, to Dresden, and then from our apartment to his own flat share. With each move he faced the possibility of unemployment, and/or complete detachment from the circle of friends he had built up to that point, and yet he took charge of offering himself what he needed (even though he may not view it as a conscious assertion, I see it so). I find myself again and again in his ability to take the blocks of his life and change their shape with a, perhaps unintentional, architectural whimsy.

3. D. is neurotic. but so am I. He is an avid glass jar re-user. He boils batches of jars that once housed applesauce, saurkraut, or pickles (the best jar yield). These jars offer grains and other goodies a home safe from moths or cross contamination. In the old apartment, our first glasses were jars, I don’t know if he realizes how happy that made me. He has a talent for surviving off the basics, and yet revels in allowing himself well-deserved treats (e.g. guitar equipment, bike gear, smoked tofu). His little peccadilloes seem to be a battle of conscious contradictions: particularly organized and labeled dry good storage vs. purposeful oversight of dust bunnies on kitchen floor. Hands washed continuously vs. other body parts left uncleansed in seeing regular bathroom rituals a wasteful use of resources. I don’t want to embarrass… you see, though these things might irritate when I’m off my A-Game, they are little presents that I get to open as we know each other longer and longer. Things I get to smile about as I catch him washing his hands for the 6th time that morning.

2. D. is vegetarian/80% vegan. Moving in with him gave me the push into vegetarianism, as I respect him and wanted to affirm my own dedication to change. He cooks. Oh how good he cooks, and is more likely than I to pull out the stops and fry up something. Vegan Grits & Tofu bacon is a regular thing at his place.

1.He’s a talker. A conversation with D. is worth more than any bit of trendy pop-culture, graphic novel, grown-up animated television mashup that you might quote to your friends later in the evening to seem hip. The authenticity and wit in his contribution mixed with an ability to simply listen is a cocktail in which I can’t stop imbibing.