If I’d been wearing hiking boots, I can pretty much guarantee this entry would have less of “how hard is it for a hotel to give me a damn wake-up call for crying out loud” and instead be an amusing anecdote of How Jennifer Fell Down a Hill and Broke Something.
The thing about owning a house is that there is always a myriad of little things that need to be done to it. And when you own an older house, or a house that has a history, that list can grow even longer.
The layers are perfectly light and crispy, with plenty of separation between the top ones; so much so that it was hard to cut the strudel without crispy pieces falling off. And the taste? Absolutely delicious.
