There’s something quietly magical about the smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and butter drifting through the house. Recently, as I tried my hand at making Franzbrötchen cookies — a playful homage to Hamburg’s famous yeast-based cinnamon rolls — that scent wrapped itself around me like a warm hug.
I didn’t expect the baking to become such a calm, grounding moment. But there I was, rolling dough, brushing cinnamon sugar, folding layers… fully present. No rush. No list running in the back of my mind. Just the gentle rhythm of creating something lovely.
It became a much-needed pause in the middle of my post-surgery healing journey — a reminder that rest doesn’t always look like stillness. Sometimes it looks like doing something simple and joyful, something that lets the mind soften and the body breathe. Later, sitting down with a warm cookie and a cup of tea felt like giving myself a quiet little “you’re doing okay” moment. The cookies tasted delicious, but the experience tasted even better.
A Recipe, a Language, and the Joy of Informal Learning
The recipe came from a friend, and as I translated it from German, I found myself smiling at how much I enjoy these tiny learning moments. Translating a recipe might seem mundane, but it’s one of my favourite forms of informal learning.
No pressure.
No assessment.
Just curiosity meeting everyday life.
Each instruction carried a hint of the culture it came from. Each word reminded me of travels, conversations, friendships. And with each step, I felt more connected to the people who introduced me to Franzbrötchen in the first place.
Informal learning has always been something I treasure – for myself and in the work I do. So often, the insights that matter most arrive when the stakes are low and the heart is open.
Cultural Curiosity and the Friendships That Shape Us
As I baked, I realised something lovely: many of the German friends I naturally click with come from northern Germany — places like Hamburg, Bremen, and the surrounding coastal areas. Of course, I have wonderful friends from all across Germany. But there’s a certain northern warmth, humour, and rhythm that I’ve always connected with deeply (don’t let the stereotype of northern Germans being “cold” and unfriendly fool you).
It’s funny how food can spark reflections about people and place.
Cultural curiosity, even in its simplest forms, builds invisible bridges between us.
Being open to understanding someone else’s cultural background enriches friendships in ways that are hard to describe, and the benefits ripple outward into work and life:
✨ Better collaboration
✨ Reduced misunderstandings
✨ Greater empathy and flexibility
✨ More creativity in how we approach challenges
✨ Stronger, more meaningful connections
It doesn’t require grand gestures. Often, it starts with a story, a shared dish, a question asked with an open heart… or even a cinnamon cookie inspired by a roll from Hamburg.
A Taste of Hamburg, A Memory of Köln
Everyone who knows me knows that Köln is my happy place — the city that feels like an emotional home. But Hamburg holds a gentle corner of my heart, too.
My first true Franzbrötchen experience was at Mutterland, a beautiful café and regional-produce shop on Kirchenallee. It’s the kind of place that celebrates local flavours and artisanal products. Shelves lined with regional treats, and the warm hum of people enjoying a quiet moment. It was there, during my first visit to Hamburg, that I fell in love with the buttery, spiralled rolls that inspired these cookies.
Sometimes the places we love return to us in unexpected, delicious ways.
Closing Reflection: The Small Things That Become Big Things
Baking those Franzbrötchen cookies wasn’t just about making something sweet.
It was:
✨ a gentle pause in the busyness of healing
✨ a moment of mindfulness when I needed it most
✨ a joyful way to practise German
✨ a reflection on friendships and cultural understanding
✨ a reconnection to places that shaped me
✨ an invitation to stay curious
It reminded me again that growth, healing, and connection often happen in the quietest moments. The world teaches us endlessly when we allow it to.
And sometimes, all it takes is a warm kitchen, a swirl of cinnamon, and the simple joy of being fully present.
Jenn Barfield - Holistic Career Development Coaching 