why didn’t you call me: german edition

Okay, so this isn’t really “why didn’t you call me?” Mainly because (being the good friend he is) VT actually invited me over for dinner.

A bit of background- his mom is from Germany, (Berlin, I believe) and as such, he’s fluent in German, and has a distinct love (read: obsession) with German food, German soccer, German/German-speaking girls, etc. In another bit of trivia, as it turns out, my mom, aunt, and uncle grew up in Germany, a result of my grandfather’s army post there. As a result, I grew up noshing on German food, thanks to my mom and grandmother. In fact, I distinctly remember a 2 week period of my life where I came home from AM kindergarten and my grandmother made me schnitzel every day for lunch. After 2 weeks of that, she rebelled, not that I blame her.

Back to the story. I showed up at VT’s condo (blessedly only a few blocks from my abode) with a bottle of Riesling and some Russian black rye bread in tow. Not that we needed wine. I got a Hefeweizen out of the fridge, plopped on the couch, and let him go to work.

The results? DELICIOUS
We had the bread, and some half pork-half veal sausages known colloquially in Berlin as currywurst. Traditionally, the sausages are served with some sort of cumin/chili spiked ketchup, which VT attempted to recreate. I was not impressed, but only because I loathe ketchup. He really came through on the spicy horseradish mustard though…

(Apologies for the poor photo quality, all I had was my camera phone.) When that says “extra hot,” Inglehoffer is NOT lying. I think we were both coughing and possibly tearing a little through dinner. (Although in my case, it might have had something to do with the fact that Duke lost to Miami and the game was NOWHERE to be found, because we had to watch a vomiting VA Tech team beat the Terps instead. But I digress)

Clearly we’re going to have to break out the schnitzel-pounding mallet for the next round.


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