Ale I Want for Christmas is a Clue by Ellie Alexander

Author:Ellie Alexander [Alexander, Ellie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sweet Lemon Press LLC

Chapter

Eight

The following day, I was up with the pinkish blush of dawn to prepare a traditional German breakfast for our B & B guests. Garrett liked to sleep later, which was fine by me. I enjoyed the gentle calm of the kitchen and the smell of spiced holiday coffee and baked bread.

I cut myself a slice of Ursula’s Christmas Stollen to enjoy while I decided what to serve for breakfast. The Stollen texture was rich, dense, and slightly crumbly. Ursula had generously filled the center with raisins, candied fruits, nuts, and marzipan. The dough was enhanced with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom and frosted with a simple vanilla glaze.

My tastebuds thanked me as I savored a second piece. Every bite evoked a sense of nostalgia. The first year Mac and I were married, Ursula taught me how to make the traditional German treat. She explained that the sweet bread dates back to the 1400s. Its name originated from the German word “Stollen,” meaning “post,” which represented its loaf-like shape. Stollen was prepared during Advent and a holiday staple in any German household, especially the Krause family.

I decided to start with Griessbrei or semolina pudding for our overnight guests. The fluffy and not overly sweet pudding was delicious and only required three ingredients—milk, sugar, and semolina. I placed a saucepan over medium heat and added semolina and sugar, whisking them together until the semolina was evenly coated with the sugar. Then, I gradually poured in milk while stirring constantly. As the mixture heated up, it began to thicken. I reduced the heat and stirred until a thick pudding had formed.

Next, I added a splash of vanilla and rum extracts and scooped the creamy pudding into individual glass bowls. Right before I served the puddings, I would top them with a drizzle of honey and my orange, cranberry, and IPA compote.

I let them cool on the counter and made the compote by zesting oranges. I combined the zest and juice of each orange, along with whole cranberries, sugar, salt, a pinch of ground cloves, and a splash of our citrus IPA in a new saucepan and let the mixture come to a boil. Then, I turned the heat to low and let it simmer until the cranberries began to burst and pop.

Soon, the kitchen smelled like Christmas morning, but my thoughts kept returning to Owen’s murder. A good night’s sleep hadn’t provided me with any new insight into who might have killed him. Chief Meyer’s taking Pierce to the station for further questioning could mean she suspected him and was buying her team time to gather evidence. It could also be that she simply had more questions she needed answered.

I intended to ask Blake about the exchange I witnessed right before she burned her arm. And, hopefully, Greta would come by with our wreaths before I had to leave. I was curious about her relationship with Owen. She certainly seemed the most emotionally invested, and if his death had been a crime of passion, she had displayed magnitudes of passion right before I found his body.

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