In Search for the Best ‘Vanilla Slice’ Ever!

Over the last few years, friends and family have been under the misguided impression that we have spent our time away from Australia purely sightseeing. I must confess that this is not entirely true, as in fact we have been undertaking some quite serious research by scouring the world to find the perfect ‘Vanilla Slice’! Well, in all fairness to Jules, I have to state that it has been my quest really, as I have tended to eat most of these delicious custard filled slices of heaven in the various places we have visited.

The strange thing is that as I child, I wasn’t particularly fond of this particular cake, which is still colloquially referred to in Australia as a ‘snot block’. They would sell them in the school canteen and more often than not, they would sit in an open tray in a warm room for several hours, attracting the flies and ensuring that the over-yellowed custard filling would stiffen to become a coagulated block of jelly. However, my impression was to dramatically change several years later when what was referred to as ‘Bavarian Slice’ was served to me at a Christmas function in Adelaide. Apart from the name change, it was essentially the same cake, but this time the vanilla custard was smooth and creamy, the puff pastry was crisp yet not too dry and it was topped with a perfect coating of white icing…absolutely delicious! I asked where the cake had come from, but nobody knew anything other than the name, which was assumed had some sort of Germanic connection. I guess that is where the search began and over the next few years, when ever we passed a local bakery we would pop in, in the hope that I might re-discover that delicious custard slice, whatever it’s name might be.

I wouldn’t like to call it a fixation, but this ‘interest’ of mine has seen Jules and I exploring many bakeries from all over Australia and in more recent times worldwide. We have tasted all kinds of variations over the years including different types of custards, consistency of pastry or subtlties of icing and in some cases, the inclusion of jam. Recently we finally made it to the region of Bavaria, not that we came here especially to look for the elusive slice, but it was certainly on my ‘things to do’ list in both Germany and Austria. Here we discovered that what we knew as a ‘Vanilla Slice’ in Australia was referred to in these parts as a ‘Cream Slice’ or a ‘Creme Schnitte’. It turns out that the term ‘Bavarian Slice’ was actually a term given to the slice in England, where it remains as popular as in Australia and as a result of immigration, it may explain why it sometimes goes by that name.

No matter what name the slice goes by, it’s certainly not a pretty cake to eat, with custard oozing out the sides with every bite, eventually leaving you with cream all over your face and sticky hands from the icing. I must admit that I probably indulged in far too many ‘Cream Schnittes’ on our recent trip, but it’s a thankless task and in the name of research somebody has to do it! So at this stage I think I can reveal my current list of the top six standouts in my quest for the perfect ‘Vanilla Slice’…

 1. Dulwich Bakery Adelaide, Australia – This is our favorite local bakery and still delivers the best ‘Vanilla Slice’ in South Australia and possibly the world!

 2. Cafe Hanselmann St Moritz, Switzerland – Here they refer to it as a ‘Vanilla Cream’ and serve the slice with a layer of puff pastry in the centre and a thin layer of jam…very tasty!

 3. Greenhaigh’s Bakery Wigan, United Kingdom – I must admit that I ate a ‘Bavarian Slice’ here a few years ago, but I fondly remember the vanilla custard being deliciously creamy.

 4. Café Diglas Vienna, Austria – Again served with the puff pastry in the middle, allowing the slice to stand particularly tall, with just a hint of jam.

 5. Schatz-Konditorei Salzburg, Austria – They served a nice ‘Cremeschnitte’ that came with an additional layer of regular cream (although quite unnecessary in my opinion) and very creamy custard.

 6. Demel Pastry Shop, Vienna Austria – Once the purveyor of cakes to the Imperial and Royal court of Austria-Hungary, their ‘Crème Schnitte’ still remains fit for a king despite their preference for a dusting of icing sugar rather than sticky icing!

While I can’t say that I have found the best Vanilla slice in the world quite yet, there have been some pretty impressive contenders. Still the memory of that definitive slice tasted over twenty years ago lingers on and with the passing of time, it seems to get better and better. So the search will continue and by all means if you know of any challengers for the title, please let me know, I would love to put them to the test!

Look here for update.

County hopping

No sooner have we hit the shores of Southampton and we board a train for a short half journey to Bournemouth to visit Jules’ aunty and uncle. It is now a familiar spot for us and seems to always welcome us back with a warm sunny day. As part of our stay this time we visit the bustling township of Poole, which looks so picturesque with its views of a sparkling boat filled inlet. There is certainly a holiday atmosphere, with the tempting smell of chips and vinegar wafting through the air. After a few days of generous hospitality we head back to London for a quick pit stop before hitting the road again to visit Jules’ second cousin and his family in Norwich. We had visited several years ago, but this time we have more time to explore the surrounding area. This includes a quaint little seaside town called Sheringham; with it’s tumbled stone beach and an impressive links golf course that hugs the rugged coast. Further inland we explore a very grand residence called Blickling Hall, formally home to Anne Boleyn, the ill-fated wife of Henry VIII. We wander around admiring the considerable collection of art as well as the ornate ceilings and fireplaces. However, closer to Jules heart is the expansive kitchen downstairs that reveals a glimpse of life in service providing good English fare for dignitaries such as Queen Mary. After a short stay in Norwich we continue our travels with another short train trip to the cathedral city of Ely, which was famously home to Oliver Cromwell at the time of England’s short-lived revolution. It is here that my cousin is to be married and the big event brings friends and family together from far and wide. It is very much a village wedding, complete with horse and cart and the reception is held in a beautiful apple orchard that overlooks the rural surrounds. As the sun sets and with a celebratory glass of champagne in hand, we gaze admiringly over a classic English pastoral scene that we imagine wouldn’t have changed too much over time.

Back to where it all began

We arrived back in London and it's like visiting an old friend. The circumstances may have changed but the underlying character of this wonderful city remains the same. After all, it was here that our adventure began over fifteen months ago. It's great to be back yet again, even if it is just for a short while. We hop on the tube with such confidence these days, barely glancing at the underground map as we dart around to familiar spots that leap straight from the monopoly board. It's a busy schedule, as we catch up with family and friends, while the mid year summer sales tempt us to add to our ever increasing luggage weight. We find some time to catch a West End play (Prisoner of Second Avenue with Jeff Goldblum) and we finally visit the Saatchi Gallery (it was closed on our previous visit). All of these pleasantries prevent us thinking too much about what we have left behind in Paris and the challenges that lay ahead. The deception continues as we head to Southampton to board the Queen Victoria for a very indulgent cruise of the Baltic ocean.

The Devon and Cornwall Road Trip

It was well over twenty years ago, during a stint of living in the UK, that Jules and I, with our four year old son David, bundled ourselves into a very small red hire car and headed south from London towards Devon and Cornwall. It was the summer of 1988 and while being typically grey, there were a few special days where the sun managed to peep through to shed its light on this glorious part of England. For years we carried with us pleasant memories of rolling hills, narrow laneways, country B&B’s and seaside villages complete with the distinctive sound of seagulls flying overhead. In fact we were so keen to relive the experience again that we planned a five-day road trip that would retrace much of that journey. So in the height of yet another English summer and despite grey clouds brewing on the horizon, we took off expectantly down the M5. As had been the case all those years ago, no particular destination was planned and no accommodation booked. We would simply follow the road and rely on our AA map and Jules’ fabulous navigation skills to get us there.

We arrived in Lyme Regis by late afternoon as the first showers began to fall and although it seemed quite a nice little coastal town, like most of the holiday makers on the beach our enthusiasm was being somewhat dampened by the weather. Nonetheless, Jules had read about a particularly good restaurant that was well worth visiting, so we decided to stay the night. It was at this point that we realized that our cunning plan to simply drop into popular seaside towns in summer in the hope of finding somewhere to stay might have a serious flaw. After several phone calls from the tourist office we finally managed to secure something, but suffice it to say it made ‘Fawlty Towers’ look like the Hilton Hotel and we hit the road very early the next day.

Continuing our journey south, the rain began picking up where it had left off the night before. With the wind screen wipers working overtime, we eventually reached the quiet inlet of Noss Mayo and enjoyed a hot chocolate in the local pub that overlook this tranquil fishing town. We soon pressed on to the historic town of Plymouth where I couldn’t help but think of the many convicts who once boarded ships here for a one-way passage to sunny Australia … there could have been far worse punishments I’m sure! As we moved down the coast towards the picturesque towns of Looe and Polperro, fond memories came flooding back, as this region was our favorite. These are quintessential fishing villages that have barely changed for centuries, if you discount the fleets of tourist buses that visit each town daily. With the rain driving down, we looked for brighter horizons on the west coast and in particular in the town of Padstow, which has become somewhat of a tourist Mecca due to it being the home of celebrity chef Rick Stein. In fact this charming fishing town could well be renamed ‘Rick Steinville’, as we counted at least five business establishments baring his name. Of course his celebrity has done much for local economy and in particular the demand for accommodation, as we found out first hand when we tried to find a room for the night. This time there was not a bed to be had and so late in the evening, we drove out of town only to find a very remote hotel somewhere near Newquay ... our B&B plan was not working well!

The next day we backtracked through Padstow and continued north to the mystical town of Tintegal. The ruined castle here is believed to have provided the inspiration for Camelot, King Arthur and the knights of the round table. After a lengthy drive, we arrived at the rugged cliffs to view what is said to be the ruins of the ancient castle. To be honest the few remaining stones bare only a passing resemblance to a castle and there is considerable reliance upon the public’s imagination to create the medieval scene. However what can be guaranteed is plenty of wind! This, combined with on going rain, meant for pretty bleak conditions and this was the height of summer!! Feeling cold and wet, we settled for the best attraction to be found in Tintegal, the genuine Cornish pasty!

Over the next few days we would take a slow and meandering course back toward Bournemouth. We would head through the Dartmore National Park, staying in the quaint town of Mortenhampstead, where following the advice of our B&B host, we ventured south to Salcombe. This was one of the nicest surprises of our road trip, as it is a charming little fishing town with a lovely outlook. Skirting the outskirts of Torquay, we headed toward Exeter, then onto the seaside town of Budleigh Salterton, which was again quite nice despite the drizzle. In the end, the sun did make the occasional appearance offering us hope of brighter days, but it seemed that this time we were destined to experience a typical English summer. Our road trip was not quite what we had imagined, nor did it totally recapture the fond memories of all those years ago. If we can take anything from this trip it is that we must always treasure those wonderful moments of travel, as they are often so difficult to ever recapture again.

In Respect for Lawrence

When I was a child, one of our family treats was going to the drive-in theatre and one of the first films I can remember seeing in the 1960’s was David Leane’s ‘Lawrence of Arabia’. It was an epic film that conjured up visions on the big screen of a culture and landscape that I had never seen before. It certainly made a huge impression on me and later it would add to a wider appreciation of history that continued to stay with me into adulthood. As far as T.E. Lawrence was concerned, I wanted to learn more about the man and his legend and over the years I read several books and watched documentaries about his life. So when we were in Bournemouth (UK) to visit Jules’ aunty and uncle, I was well aware that this was close to the county were Lawrence had spent his final days. Just a short drive into Dorset would allow us an opportunity to visit his home called ‘Cloud Hill’, a remote cottage not too far from Bovington Camp, the army base where he served his final commission. When you approach ‘Cloud Hill’ you immediately learn something about the man. Firstly, judging by the amount of people visiting his home on any given day, he is clearly still held in high esteem by the people of England. Secondly, looking at the size of the house as you walk toward it, you sense that he lived a humble existence despite the fame and adulation he received during his lifetime. This is re-affirmed when you enter his tiny house, which he purchased in 1925 and where he lived without power and limited water supply for ten years. The interior is left almost exactly as it was on the day of his motorbike accident, that eventually took his life. His personal library and gramophone records remain in tact, as does the sleeping bag that was reserved for his guests and which was stolen shortly after the release of the movie, only to be returned again in 2001. It was certainly an austere existence, which in many ways reflected his complex personality. Later Jules and I visited his grave in the tiny town of Morton, which was as expected, a very understated monument to his life. The size of the grave gave an indication of his small stature, which was around 5’5” and somehow belied the larger than life status he had held in life as a result of his fame. Although he had sought obscurity after his desert adventures, it was evident that he still carried some political weight, with Winston Churchill attending his funeral in 1935. As we stood alone in the tiny graveyard paying our respects, I couldn’t help but reflect upon the path that had led us all the way there from Australia. For a moment my mind flitted back to that drive-in movie all those years ago.

Discovering the Yorkshire Dales

During a visit to Wigan, my uncle Terry suggested that we might want to take the opportunity to stay in their caravan in the Yorkshire Dales. Without much hesitation we said yes and it wasn’t too long before we were heading up the M6 highway to Cumbria and a little town called Sedbergh. Typically the weather was inclement, but it didn’t dampen our enthusiasm to explore ‘The Dales’, which were made so familiar to Jules and I through the highly popular BBC series ‘All Creatures Great and Small’. It turns out that Sedbergh itself is a lovely little town with narrow lanes and classic stone buildings. It is just how we had imagined a typical Yorkshire village to be, however there is a much wider region to explore and it’s not too long before we are winding our way around extremely narrow country roads in search of picturesque and interesting locations. Our first stop is the Wensleydale Creamery in the town of Hawes. The dairy products here are regarded as some of the best in England, but it is particularly well known as the cheese of choice for the animated characters ‘Wallace and Gromit’. After a generous tasting session we thread our way through to Ingleton, Kirby Lonsdale and Casterton, with quick stops along the way as we complete a loop back toward Sedbergh. However the major place we wanted to visit was Dent as before the caravan came along, the town was the regular holiday destination of my uncle and aunty, who always rented a traditional white walled cottage and spent many a day walking across the dales. True to their description, we found it to be a truly authentic Yorkshire village looking much as it would have looked a generation ago. There still remains a rustic yet rugged isolation in the villages and countryside of this area and It is no surprise that the lush green scenery and peaceful atmosphere continues to attract tourists. The Lakes District in particular makes for some spectacular sight seeing and we were certainly keen to explore it further. So the next day we set off to explore Lake Windermere, a location that was familiar to me as the stretch of water that was frequently the location for many water speed records in the 1950’s along with nearby Coniston Water. Being 10.5 miles long, Lake Windermere is the largest and certainly the most beautiful natural lake in Britain. Naturally enough it has always been a haven for boats of all shapes and sizes; everything from yachts to steamboats, however on the day we are there the skies were grey and the lake remained surprisingly empty. After driving the full length of the lake, we headed back via the tiny village of Cartmel who’s claim to fame was that it professes to be the home of ‘the worlds best sticky toffee pudding’! True to its word, it turned out to be pretty darn good, but once again it was the delightful village itself that was the highlight. As with so many places we had passed through during our short stay, it had truly reflected the unique character of northern England. While the weather was not always at it’s best, the Yorkshire Dales and the Lake District had not disappointed. We had thoroughly enjoyed experiencing its rugged landscape and the warmth of the local people.

Wandering Through the Colleges of Cambridge

Much like the famous rowing race, Jules and I have a bit of rivalry over the English university towns of Oxford and Cambridge. Having visited both places in the 1980’s, Jules took a fancy to the larger metropolis of Oxford, while I really enjoyed the more compact city of Cambridge. So I was particularly pleased to once again travel the few hours north of London by bus to visit my cousin who had made the district of Cambridge his home. Upon arrival, the town looked somewhat bigger and more bustling than we had remembered, which is not totally surprising with a jump in population from 90,000 in the 1980’s to around 125,000 today. It’s population boom confirming that many other people have recognized the appeal of this historical town and what it had to offer beyond its universities. This may in part be also due to the fact that Cambridge has developed into the English version of ‘Silicon Valley’, attracting some of the UK’s most qualified people, who come here to explore a wide range of developing technological industries.

On a bright and sunny day (somewhat untypical), we traveled into Cambridge from the outlying village of Sawston where we were staying. After a lovely picnic in one of the many parks, we were ready to once again explore the centre of the town with its many historical landmarks. Of course the University of Cambridge itself dominates the streetscape with numerous colleges spreading out throughout the town. One of the first to be revisited was Kings College which is one of our favorites and is easily recognisable by the traditional gothic spires of its magnificent cathedral. It’s from here that every Christmas Eve ‘Carols from Kings’ is telecast throughout Britain and Australia, so it holds a special place in Jules’ heart who always insisted that we played the angelic tones of the young choristers every year in the lead up to the big day. Another favorite of mine is Trinity College with its strong historical connections to Henry VIII, who established the college in 1546 and whose unmistakable figure looks down from above from the sculptures of Great Gate. Passing through the gate we arrived at ‘Great Court’, made famous in the movie ‘Chariots of Fire’ in which the annual ‘Great Court Run’ was reinacted. The premise of this annual event is that students should undertake a dash around the 400-metre parameter of the court within the 43 seconds it takes for the old clock to strike twelve o’clock. A very difficult task but to prove that it could be done, in 1988 Olympic runner Sebastian Coe actually managed to complete the sprint it in 42.53 seconds!

One of the largest and most impressive of all the colleges is St. Johns College with its sprawling buildings and grounds. While it has several grand gates and courtyards, for us the jewel in the crown is ‘The Bridge of Sighs’. A small gothic styled bridge that spans the River Cam and is possibly one of the most photographed structures in Cambridge with picturesque scenes reminiscent of Venice. The appeal of this landmark is further enhanced by the sight of students (or at least young folk) punting under it and down the river. ‘Punts’ are nothing like gondolas, as these are simple flat bottom boats, yet similarly they have a person standing at the back who dips a long poll into the water in order to propel the unstable looking craft along. On a summers day this is a very popular pastime that creates quite a bit of congestion on the narrow waterways. For us it was good fun just observing novices tackling their poll technique and while there were some pretty wobbly boats out there and a few near misses, to our disappointment none managed to fall in while we were watching.

Scenes such as these, combined with the classic gothic architecture of Cambridge, certainly conjure up some quintessential images of English life. While the city itself has certainly grown since we last visited, its tourist appeal remains much the same. For the thousands of students who pass through the various historic gates of the colleges, their time here must truly be memorable. In places it appears as though time has simply stood still and there is comfort in the knowledge that things will generally remain the same as it has done for centuries. You could say that we are all just passing through Cambridge (not just us tourists) and that it will always provide a constant reminder of what is ‘great’ about Great Britain.

Artefacts of War

A significant part of English history is marked by its involvement in numerous wars. Over the years the victories, defeats, triumphs and tragedies on the battlefield have all added to the British psyche and have no doubt helped to shape the nation. Therefore, it is understandable they have chosen to remember and commorate times of war through a variety of significant museums. One of the best would have to be the Imperial War Museum in London that focuses primarily on modern warfare and in particular the two World Wars. As Jules was not particularly interested in this aspect of British history, she left me to my own devises for several hours to wander around the various floors and view the massive range of exhibits. Coming up from the Lambeth North underground station, it was a short walk past William Bligh’s house (of ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’ fame) to the museum. The architecture of the building was most impressive and as I made my way toward the grand entrance, I passed by two enormous fifteen-inch naval canons. Upon entering I walked into a huge atrium area that housed numerous tanks and canons from different eras, while overhead a diverse range of aeroplanes attracted my attention upward. The tanks from World War One showed just how primitive the technology was in those days, as well as the obvious hardships the soldiers faced. Similarly, the interactive display of trench warfare gave me some idea of the misery of the battlefield. On the second level there was an opportunity to view early bi-planes and the famed ‘Spitfire’fighter at close range. You could also the climb into the cockpit of a Lancaster bomber then view the wreckage of the plane used by Rudolf Hess in his ill-fated flight to England to broker a peace deal midway through the second World War. Especially moving was the Holocaust exhibition that included photographs, documents and artefacts covering the rise of Nazism and their persecution of the Jews. Other display cases including items collected from Hitler’s bunker including his appointment book, which I found particularly interesting, as it seems that he had bookings right up to his last day. Another area of the museum was devoted to post 1945 conflicts and includes an extensive collection of spy material from the cold war. The hours slipped by quickly with so much to see and it was probably better that I was alone with so much to take in. Being particularly interested in modern history, the Imperial War Museum was certainly worth a visit and the displays were done very well, as you might well expect from the Brits.

Tales of Canterbury

Jules and I arrived in Canterbury on a wet evening and headed to the Millar’s Arms, a lovely traditional English pub where we would stay for a few nights while we were finding our feet in Kent. We found it to be a great spot to sip a beer by a warm cosy fire or on a sunny day enjoy the fast flowing canal that it faced. Our first few days in Canterbury were spent wandering around the narrow streets, exploring the historic sights and rustic buildings. The locals we met were very friendly and we found the old part of town really picturesque. Sure, it’s a little ‘touristy’, but it has plenty of genuine history, which is highlighted by famous Canterbury Cathedral that forms the stunning centrepiece to this ancient walled town. Indulging our passion for good food is quite easy, as there are also some great places to eat and over the next few weeks we try plenty of them. The temptation is even greater when we eventually move into our accommodation in the high street, where the aromas from the various pubs, restaurants and bakeries drift through our open window. From our little ‘artist garret’ we are able the view the hive of activity that happens below every day and hear the accents of people from all over the world who are visiting this popular town. Eventually we hire a car and are able to explore the county of Kent a little more, by eventually heading down the east coast toward Dover and Folkestone. We quite like this region, which is open, lush and green (unlike Australia which is suffering a drought at the time). It is a lovely fine day and we lunch outdoors at a traditional English teahouse in the pretty town called Tenderden. There is a distinctively rural feel in this part of England and Jules and I are amazed how relatively close it is to London and even Paris. With the Eurostar train passing through this area daily it certainly makes it a perfect location to access both these iconic cities quite easily, which is exactly what we eventually intend to do.