Every Monday after rehearsal, I like to go to Ilsetopf, a very lovely little restaurant on the corner of Ilseplatz, which also has a splendid Bier Garten, and has proved to be one of my favorite spots when the weather is nice (and it has been consistently nice on Mondays for a few weeks now). Other members of ACT join me as well, and this has turned into a regular little spot for me. I love when people working at places that you frequent often both a) know your name and b) know what you drink. Like I have said before, it is the small things in life that really make me just gush with happiness.
I am usually fairly predictable with the food that I order (Flammkuchen (Ph? Keine Ahnung--I have probably just spelled wrong, but neither here nor there--but the Flammkuchen with garlic sausage and peppers). It is so good. Today, though, I decided to be healthy and order a "Salat." Now, see, I figure that anything that falls under the heading "Salat" presumably has some form of lettuce in it, perhaps a few vegetables here and there. I mean, "Salat" elicits visions of healthiness, yeah? So I order the "Duett," which I assumed would be salad with meat on it (I recognized the word "Fleisch"). This is what came out:
This, my friends, is most definitely NOT the salad I was expecting. THIS is simply a meat salad with fried potatoes on it. See, I think like an American: I see salad and think SALAD. Germans think salad, and it could mean lettuce, or it could mean this: a deep-fried fatty goodness.
Well, I ate most of it anyway, with the promise that tomorrow I would do an hour and a half of hill running. Which means I am going to have to get up early because it is supposed to be hot tomorrow. UGH.
Not only that, I proceeded to choke on my Dunkel Weißen (like out-the-nose, doubled over, unable to breathe choking), and Simone informed me that I had "caused her German heart to cry" because I wasted valuable beer. Germans have priorities, and is not my health... All-in-all, tonight's eating adventure was a huge failure, though we live and learn, right?
And by the way, Happy Birthday, America! We celebrated last night here in Deutschland in your honor, and honey, we would have made you proud!
Flammkochen sounds rather Hitleristic in my ears.
ReplyDeleteYou should write Flammkuchen.
Unless you want to sound like Pilatus in the german version of 'Life of Brian', Fleisch would be much more appropriate than 'Fleich'.
>Germans have priorities, and is not my health...
This sentence is weird.
Also, just because we don't want you to waste dunkelth, your health is not less of a priority to us.
Let me put it like this:
John Major vists Kohl. They go to a pub, where Major orders a Dunkel and Kohl orders a Lager.
Major raises his glass and says: "To your health!"
Kohl happily raises his glass and replies: "To your Dunkelth!"
so, people are actually reading this and correcting my drunken writing? sweet! thanks!
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