September 2

There are certain things that I distincly remember my Oma baking. My grubby little hands always reached for the glaziest of her cinnamon rolls, the thickest slices of her coffee cakes, and those portions of her streusels that had the tallest layers of that crumbly sugary-buttery goodness. (At that age, I was all about sugar, but what I didn't understand was that the wonders of German baking is all in the butter.)

And then there are certain things that I don't remember, but can imagine, Oma baking. But I can always take those vivid images of her dipping her finger tips in a chunk of butter and patting it across the dough, or liberally drizzling butter over a fruit topping and then sprinkling a handful of sugar and cinnamon over the top, and invent memories of her baking pretty much anything.

Anyway, just so Mom can see, this is how my Butterkuchen turned out. Next time I'll thin out the dough/batter so the plums can shine through a little more.