Edinburgh’s Konditormeister

That (above), my friends is a delicious raisin brioche made by Falko Konditormeister. What is a Konditormeister? Only my favorite kind of person in the whole wide world — in any language — a master pastry chef! In this case, a German man by the name of Falko.

Not only do we live by some of the best French bakeries in Edinburgh, we also happen to have Herr Falko’s delicious establishment just a few blocks away from our flat. It is really an incredibly lucky thing that Matt and I can’t afford a car here. Without the walking we have to do, we would both turn into butter balls — happily munching away on croissants, pain au chocolats, and apple strudel until we collapsed from simultaneous heart attacks.

Here is a photo of my favorite handsome and svelte mans sitting in Falko Konditormeister’s bakery:

His cappuccino:

His Swiss toast (béchamel sauce, ham, swiss cheese on delicious kondistormeister bread):

This is what I wore to eat my butter delicious baked goods (I forgot to take pics of myself there – so I’m actually standing in my kitchen. Please note the very yellow walls, which are more orange in person):

Thrifted shirt from Finders Keepers in Atlanta • Citizens of Humanity skirt • Shuropody boots*

There’s a close-up of my shirt. It’s one of my favorites: it’s got this slightly Asian fan motif going on, and I love the colors.

*Shuropody boots: I have no idea how to pronounce the name of this store (Shoe Ro Pody? Shoe Rope-dy), but I stumbled upon it on Rose Street and thought it looked like one of those places where you buy orthopedic shoes. Sounds like a weird choice for someone who used to swear by 5-inch heels, but ya’ll, I is a-getting old, and walking around everywhere in Edinburgh is killing my poor, abused feetsies. And really, Shuropody (say it three times fast) had some cute things, plus they had a sale going! I needed another pair of boots because I’m wearing down the other two pairs I brought from the States. These newbies are lovely and warm and –gasp!– only two inches high. One day when I no longer live in a city of cobblestone, without a car, I might consider those 5-inchers again.

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Dear Kitcath,

It’s weird but I really haven’t seen much appeal in the High Street shopping since I’ve been here. Does that mean I am getting too old for trendy trends? I just can’t muster the strength to spend £30 on a cheaply made shirt with birds on it. Maybe it just means I’m too “poor” and should stick to the charity shops (£3 for an angora sweater- yes!). Maybe I’m just becoming thrifty and Scottish? One can always hope.

Anyways, I would like to save my hard-earned cash for some independent boutiques around here — though those seem a bit spendy too (but worth it right?), and to travel and see you more often. I’ll keep you abreast of any fluctuations in my shopping habits and what I discover.

Love/Miss You Muchos,

Larbar