If The Nuns Only Knew

We all have childhood memories triggered by certain smells from a kitchen or the sight of a dish we haven’t seen in a long time. I am no exception. I love the smell of roasted chestnuts or freshly baked apple pie like everybody else. But in my case, it’s much simpler. There is no smell, no sight of cake, torte, or roast that transports me back to my childhood as quickly as a jar of chocolate spread.

The sight of Nutella still transforms me into the little girl I once was, which still seems to be alive today, somewhere inside my older self.

Birthdays are important when you are a child. Every year is another milestone, no matter if you turn three or four and you hold your fingers up, showing the number when asked how old you are, or if you can’t wait for the 14th or 16th birthday to arrive. The excitement we feel about our special day is the same. There is anticipation and nervousness, and the simple wonder and magic about the day when we were born.

The first year in boarding school was the first of a lot of things. I had mixed feelings when I heard I was accepted at an elite girl’s school in the South of Germany. It was too far away from our farm and I would have to sleep there as well, which I suppose explained the word “boarding” very well.

What about the Holidays and my Birthday, I wondered. Would all these special days be postponed until I would be back home? The importance of a child’s birthday should never be underestimated and the nuns of the convent who run the school were aware of it.

I started school after summer and when I witnessed the first birthday celebration from a girl I didn’t know, my curiosity was awakened. “So there was a celebration,” and it was super special and super sweet -literally.

On our birthdays we found the place at our dining table specially decorated. A colorful napkin had been placed under the white plain plate, and a saucer and adult coffee cup had been set beside it. A small vase with flowers in spring or summer, and a fall or winter arrangement during the cold months of the year completed the decoration. But the real gift from the nuns was a bowl of chocolate spread and fresh baked rolls, they had made just for the birthday girl.

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I had seen a jar of Nutella before – the famous and very expensive hazelnut spread – but I had never tasted it. I just knew by looking at it that it was extra special. Some of the girls from wealthy families had them in their fridge department, right beside the deli meat and cheeses I had never seen before either.

I had traded my homemade jelly and braunschweiger for prosciutto and the Italian cheese Bel Paese, but none of the girls ever traded Nutella.

Chocolate on a Kaiser roll or a piece of bread, what could be better than that? I could not wait for my birthday to arrive. I had counted the days and had verified on a calendar that indeed I would not spend the special day at home, but in school and so I waited anxiously for my birthday -and the chocolate spread – to arrive.

The morning of my 8th birthday finally arrived and it was more beautiful than I had imagined. Soft classic music came out of the hallway speaker in the morning, but only on the floor where I and the other 3rd graders slept and lived. It was a special treat to hear music during normal schooldays, it let us know there was a girl in our class, who celebrated another milestone that day.

I jumped out of bed, scrambled through my morning routine, got dressed, and made my bed way before everybody else was done. I was ready for breakfast and the waiting almost killed me.

Finally, all the girls and all the classes were lined up by age in front of the dining hall and when we managed to be still for a while, we all mumbled the short morning prayer we had to say before the big doors finally got opened, and we all were let in to eat.

The oldest and highest grades went in first. Then the younger kids finally got their turn and it seemed to take forever until eventually, we followed the fourth graders into the dining room.

And there it was. On the large farm table, right beside the door, my plate and seat had been decorated just the way I had envisioned it. My coffee cup had small flowers on it, the napkin was full of embroidered animals, and the large bowl of freshly made chocolate spread and the rolls waited just for me.

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The tea and coffee were placed on our table, and the girls went to their lockers to get the special treats they had brought from home. Then the bread baskets, and the coffee and tea pitchers were put on each table and we started breakfast.

The hazelnut spread was in a bowl large enough to hold a mixed salad for a family of four. It was way too much to eat alone, but it was left up to the birthday girl if she was willing to share her gift with all the others on the table. Nine other girls were waiting to see what I would decide.

That day I didn’t get grandma’s strawberry marmalade out of my locker. I had intended to eat the homemade Nutella until I was so full that they had to roll me out of the dining hall.

I cut into my warm roll, and carefully -but generously- smeared the chocolate spread on both pieces. Oh, it was heavenly, just the way I had imagined it.

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The other girls on my table started eating as well, and when I was done with my first roll, I grabbed the second one and spooned some of the homemade Nutella on my plate. Then I pushed the bowl in the middle of the table, a gesture to let them know I was willing to share and how could I not.

I don’t know how the nuns came up with this special treat, but it was the one routine every girl was looking forward the most -and many other cute and meaningful rituals interrupted our everyday school life frequently.

Many years later, as a young adult, I bought the first jar of Nutella in a store and when I opened it at home and tried it, it was exactly as I had thought it would taste. There was no difference. It tasted just like the hazelnut chocolate spread we had enjoyed when we were kids.

To this day I have a jar of Nutella in my cupboard. It holds a special place in my heart and in my memory. Some things never change.

Now as an elderly adult, I wonder if the nuns ever knew how much the bowl with chocolate spread in the morning meant to us. Our birthdays in boarding school were special. The whole day was filled with surprises, letters from home, packages from my grandma and neighbors, and gifts from my friends, it all made us feel extra amazing.

Quite a trip down memory lane today and now I have to cheat on my diet and get a spoon of Nutella with my decaf. 🙂

Guess what? I found my school on YouTube. It shows a little bit of the convent and the school building and of course the beautiful church I had to visit three times a week 🙂

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Daily writing prompt

Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?

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