Last week, my oldest son had his first Tiger Cub Scouts den meeting. Needless to say, he was extremely excited and wanted to put on his uniform several hours before we left for the meeting. He did so and then inspected himself in the mirror with narrowed eyes and serious face, seeing in his reflection, no doubt, the future echoes of adventure and woodcraft and finally being allowed to own a real knife. As my better half was out with our younger hooligan, I made the mistake of taking my son out to Der Wienerschnitzel for dinner. He loves their corn dogs.
About twice annually I make the grave error of eating at that wicked shrine to calories. I knew I had made a mistake as soon as we walked through the door, but it was too late. If we had turned around and left, my son would have demanded a somewhat logical explanation that I would’ve been unable to create, seeing that calories and grease and other such things are even more nonsensical to him than why he isn’t allowed to stuff a dozen marshmallows in his face at one time.
When our order came (it was a modest order, as I refrained from ordering any of the more blatantly dangerous items on the menu), the staff had seen fit to award us with a free serving of something called Chili Cheese Fries. On my honor, I’ve never eaten such a thing in my life. I tasted it, and then wondered if the staff ever did complimentary heart surgery in the back room. Interestingly enough, I also noticed on the menu an offering called Ultimate Chili Cheese Fries, subtitled “Guaranteed to Kill You in Sixty Seconds or Your Money Back.”
While my body sought to cope with the food, I wondered, given the name of the restaurant, whether the chain had originally started as part of the Third Reich’s long-range plan to defeat the United States. I suppose if you cannot win on the conventional battlefield, defeating an enemy with hot dogs is just as effective.
The Tiger Cub Scouts meeting, on the other hand, was excellent.
I resent this post. You shall not cast aspersions on the cuisine of my homeland unchastistedly. The Third Reich was a dark chapter in our history, but it did not, I repeat, NOT, take down German food culture. There is a simple clue to “Der Wienerschnitzel” being, actually, libel by Americans (probably from spite, and jealousy at not having access to real wiener sausages or, indeed, schnitzel): the definite article is wrong. A Schnitzel is a “das”, not a “der”. Any real German knows that.
Maybe you should try chowing down some sauerkraut, to scour out your arteries?
I love sauerkraut. My wife just found a recipe for caraway fennel sauerkraut and is planning on making a batch. My mom is from Bremerhaven, so we grew up eating all kinds of German food. I’m probably spelling it wrong, but a big treat for dinner was always kartoffelkuchen with apple sauce. Yum.
The definite article is wrong? Ah, American marketing. They must have focus-grouped “das” vs “der” and gotten better results with “der.”
Bremerhaven- definitely a Nordlicht (Northern Light), as proven by the potato/apple combo. And yes, you spelled it right.
Homemade sauerkraut rocks; I’ve made some years ago which was really lovely & mild. I made the kids do the pounding-down, with their fists in a bucket; I think they were about the age yours are at now. Lots of fun to be allowed to punch food, really hard (“Son, get back to playing with your food, right now!”).