... and I did choose to accept it, is to somehow re-create the (okay, I'm going to steal one of my teenage daughter's descriptions here) awesomeness of the little crusty, chewy bits of doughy goodness that we had in Germany. There truly is NOTHING that compares to a warm brotchen with soft, salty, creamy butter slathered all over it. Nothing. And I'm determined to learn how to do it.
I have one German cookbook with a brotchen recipe in it, and I gave it my first try yesterday, with the hopes of accompanying a hearty German meal of bratwurst, sauerkraut (doctored, of course, as Pete's Oma showed me with bacon, onions, and apples), potato balls and a brown mushroom gravy. Here's what I ended up with: