A Krapfen is a special cream filled doughnut that is only available during Faching time in Munich. That’s carnival for all you non-German speakers out there. It lasts up to Ash Wednesday and then they are gone and we mourn. Today, after waking up at 6 am to go running, I decided I had done a good deed and was allowed one Krapfen. Vanilla filled. It’s the best. So on my way home from a little 5K run I stopped at the bakery and asked for one. Originally I wanted to share it with my husband and feel only half-guilty about it, but, like most men I know, he hates sharing scrumptious food.
So I take a knife to cut the Krapfen in half.
Him: What are you doing?
Me (looking down at my doughnut): what? I went running I’m allowed half a doughnut.
Him: You’re destroying your Krapfen?
Me (knife in hand): Sorry?
Him: You’re suppose to eat it not cut it up in pieces. Why do you always destroy good food?
Me: But I want to save the other half, well actually the other 2/3 for later. I don’t always destroy food.
Him: you do. you pick things out, throw half the buns away, you destroy sandwiches.
Me: I don’t destroy them, I dissemble them so I can eat slower and avoid the unhealthy par–
Him: Nooo! The filling is going to gush all over! Don’t cut it in the middle!
Me: It’s ok I can spread it here on this uneaten part, and then well (spreading gone wrong) I don’t need to eat the whole filling anyway.
Him: But that’s the best part!
Me: Ok. But I want to feel only half-guilty about eating this fatty pastry.
Him: so why did you buy it?
Me: ( I point to my mouth, I never speak with my mouth full).
Him: This is torture. Not only are you torturing me and the poor Krapfen but you’re torturing yourself.
Me: What? I can handle eating the other 2/3s later.
Him: When it’s all shriveled and dried up and lost all of its filling because you cut it in the middle… twice? Don’t you have any respect for your food?
Me: Well technically this isn’t food. And I cut it in 3 parts.
Him: I can’t hear this anymore. You’re killing the Krapfen.
Me (my mouth stuffed): I’m not killing it.
Him (standing up): I’ll be no part in this.
He leaves. I look down at my plate at my now supposedly destroyed Krapfen.
Ok well maybe I did kill it a little. It sure doesn’t look nice and round anymore and the filling is all over the place and, well, I’ve lost quite a bit of the icing in the process. But I’ll never admit to it and I’m sticking to my story. I ate the Krapfen. I didn’t kill it. At least not intentionally. Ok, fine I might have killed it but it was in self-defense. It would’ve gone straight to my thighs had I not done what I did. Now it has gone to my pinky. I swear! 😉