The Plum Fairy fills in

My first clue should have been the sun peeking through my curtains. The sun does not shine in the morning, in April, in Berlin.

Then I knew something was amiss when I heard tiny peep-peeps squeaking and chattering from the kitchen.
What do I find but a neat row of living, peep-peeping Peeps, beaming up at me proudly for having laid such lovely eggs while I had been dreaming...

But what is this? Not eggs nor marshmallows, but plums? Apparently someone had a plan for my Easter brunch, and my bet is on the Plum Fairy herself. That sprite probably usurped responsibility for the Easter in my apartment before the Bunny could get a word in edgewise.

Adapted from a recipe dug out of the pile on top of our dish cabinet, this may not fit in exactly with the Weekend Cookbook Challenge, but my multicolored friends were rather insistent.

Ostern Pflaumenkuchen
(with my approximations of American measurements)
1) Cream together:
0.5 cup sugar
0.5 cup soft butter
pinch salt

2) Beat in, one at a time:
2 eggs

3) Alternate adding these two mixtures:
3 T milk and 2 T liqueur (rum or amaretto)
1.5 cup flour and 2.5 tsp baking powder

4) Spread in 10" buttered, lined springform (or similar)

5) Drop on 5-600g (6-7 large) plums, washed and cut in pieces, and then some sliced almonds

6) Bake at preheated 350F or 175C for 50ish minutes... ta-daa!

I served it up as the happy ending to a (very) small bruch with powdered sugar (a dusting for me, a veritable blizzard for my still-sleepy-eyed companion), tea, and steamed milk. It was lovely.
Next time I might use go 3:2 with the liqueur and milk, or maybe some cinnamon or other spices to make it a little more interesting. Lemon juice on top, like a Dutch Baby? Toasting the almonds would also have been a valuable step. It was difficult to tell whether it was fully cooked, so to be safe I would suggest shooting for a goldeny brown rather than a browny golden.

Don't the almonds look like little eggs? I thought so.

This is the first Easter I've spent away from my family (and my town, and my continent...). When I was really young, we would travel up to my grandparents' house in Chicago to spend the holiday with what seemed like several dozen assorted relatives. On Easter morning, my parents and I would have the house to ourselves until the churchgoers returned, my uncles fresh-pressed and my grandma soft and perfumy. Preparations for the midday meal would soon commence while I stepped through the (sometimes still dewy) yard in search of treats with my cousins. Maybe my grandma would be making melt-from-the-toothpick 'pigs in a blanket,' maybe my grandpa would send me to the musky basement for a can of green beans. I never paid enough attention then.
But today I wish I was back there with everyone, to bake something like this and share the day.

Mmmm. Happy Easter.