When I was a kiddie (well relatively young kiddie, because I only started reading when I was 9 years old), her Little House in the Big Woods caused me to develop some weird ass obsession with cabins and the late 19th century way of life (12 can tell you the level of obsession I have over NN's magical cabin in Norway, which I tell his brother that I call "My Disneyland" to his bemusement). Especially buttermilk.
"When Ma finished molding the butter, she gave Laura and Mary each a drink of good, fresh buttermilk."
Ever since then, I have always wondered how does buttermilk taste like? In my fantasy land of course, buttermilk tastes sweet and creamy, like melted butter. So when HM said after our visit to Wieskirche, that we should walk one loop around the small village, stop by the little restaurant on the road to the church and try their Wieskücherl and Buttermilk.
I wasn't so curious about the Wieskücherl. But my ears fairly popped when I heard the word "Buttermilk". I nodded my head eagerly which my fingers clicked clicked clicked at my camera.
First Sip.
 |
| Buttermilk |
Erst Wort. Nasty.
I immediately give the What the Fuck face I usually give my suppliers when they tell me something I don't like to hear, which made HM and his wife laugh at my face. I pushed the glass to B1, in an unusual show of generosity.
"Drink it, I am not thirsty."
You know what it tastes like? It tasted like yoghurt drink. Sour.
The Wieskücherl fared better. It was a flat fried doughnut coated with cinnamon and icing sugar. It was very lecker by comparison, and went well with the milky horror. I have a sneaky suspicion that their doughnut contains buttermilk *silent scream*
Coming home, I googled buttermilk and was interested to discover that it wasn't really Laura's fault. Her buttermilk is not our buttermilk today.
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