Bloody Germans

 Strange Ways of Eating

Minced Meat..,

You’d think there was nothing very unusual that the Germans could do with lump of that. Just bung your beef or pork into the old mincer and out it comes -- minced meat!

Not so!

The Germans love mince meat so much -- they mix in pepper and salt, add in few bits of onion and then spread it over the tops of a half-bread rolls.

 

Nothing wrong with that you might think..,

What next?

Stick it in the oven!

Nope!

Stick it in their mouths!

The Germans eat mince meat -- raw!

Admittedly, they will argue that it’s a special kind of meat and not just any old mince meat, but I’m sorry -- it’s all mince meat to me and mince meat, one must first fry in a pan then shove it between a few slabs of pastry, add a few other ingredients then finally bung it in the oven.

The Germans don’t even know what a pie is!

I’ve searched high and low for anything that resembles a pie; an apple pie, a meat pie, a pie pie! I’ll find half a pie -- plenty of them around. That’s just an ordinary pie without a lid on. They have something about putting lids on things and I see the same thing with their bread rolls. They’ll cut the roll in half, spread the butter over the bottom half of it, plonk on all the ingredients; ham, lettuce, tomato, etc. And then that’s it --

No bloody lid!

I don’t know if at this point in writing whether they cash in on both halves of the roll; two top n’ bottom salad rolls for the cost of one -- or just chuck the top half out of the window. Or maybe somewhere in Germany, out in the country somewhere.., there are several large hangars scattered about that are filled to the brink with the top-halves of their rolls!

It could be worth mentioning that perhaps the German half-roll might be better than the English full roll. At least I could get to see what and how much I am getting prior to making my purchase.

In England, I have to pay for it first, take it to my table, sit down and then lift up the top lid before I can shout..,

“Bloody tight gits! One measly spec of tomato, a few dead ends of lettuce and hardly any ham at all!”

But by then it’s too late. Not only have I paid for it -- I’ve mauled it around as well! But still, if the roll and its contents were of a decent quality and amount -- I’d still be far better off than the Germans, because I’d have an added extra five minutes in that nice comfortable, warm and cosy cafe, while I sit down and finish off eating my crispy lid!

Breakfast

The reason the Germans cut their meat different to us, is simply because they cook differently to us. They don’t have anything that resembles a good old fashioned English Roast Dinner -- not even at Christmas!

When we first came out to live in Germany, we stayed temporarily at the home of Rolf’s married relatives; Maren and Werner, and it was there that I sampled my first taste of German cooking.

On that pioneer morning, we were both called down for breakfast by Maren -- and boy was I hungry. Even though I couldn’t yet smell the fried bread, bacon and eggs -- to be swallowed down by a nice cup of tea.

Mmmmm! I was sure ready for it!

We all sat down in the main sitting room, around a large circular table that took up most of the living room space. The TV was switched on and blurting out Breakfast TV; in ‘full-blown’ German. Then Maren began to bring in the breakfast. First came the hard boiled eggs, quickly followed by some dry bread rolls. I thought --

“This is going to be a bit tricky to make buttered soldiers to dip in my egg -- maybe she ran out of proper bread!”

Then Maren brought in the beverages -- a cuppa tea is something I just simply cannot begin my day without!

But it was cocoa!

“Cocoa?” I thought, “That’s what I drink before I go to bed -- not when I’ve got up!”

But cocoa was better than nothing, especially when one has such a morning thirst.

Then I asked, “Can I have an egg cup please.., and a small spoon in which to scoop out my nice runny egg?”

I was soon to learn my first lesson that this is not England; this is Germany -- and in Germany, they just do not do it like the English do!

The egg was to have no small egg cup, nor required a little spoon to scoop out the non-runny substance, because in Germany -- hard boiled means exactly that!

So no need for buttered soldiers either -- these eggs had a solid substance that would have broken the backs of the S.A.S. The idea was to break open my egg, then eat it solid -- and solid was definitely the right word. The accompanying roll was to be munched along with it -- though thankfully, they had heard of butter. This was what most might call a ‘Continental Style Breakfast’, but in Germany -- their breakfast is called Frühstück. For me, it certainly did stück as it was so dry and very troublesome for me to swallow. It was also boring and nothing to compare with the lovely English fried bread, bacon, eggs, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes..,

This was also my very first ‘Culture Shock..,’

Now I really did want to go home!

They do exactly the same with their scrambled egg. Instead of it being tipped over my toast all light, fluffy and bouncy, as most of us back in England enjoy  -- it came to me like a solid piece of cake!

Sometimes they even smoother it with gherkins to give it more flavour.

It is so disappointing when I ask for certain food out here, that I have been enjoying for most of my life, then when it arrives.., it not only tastes different, I don’t even recognise it!

Dinner

Most home cooked German meals seem to be dished out into a bowl and eaten with just a spoon; their spoons must wear out far quicker than their knives and forks. Whatever dish our hosts cooked up for us, it soon became apparent that it was standard routine to first toss the ingredients into a big pot or pan, mix them around for five minutes or so, and then finally dump it all into medium sized puddin’ basins -- then serve.

German cooking seems to be all over and done with in less than five minutes!

One weekend, I thought I’ll give them all a treat. I’ll make the Sunday dinner and show them what an English Roast is all about; roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, roasted tuddies and cream mash, slightly buttered vegetables -- carrots, peas, cabbage, cauliflower, swede, sprouts -- a few from that mix, but I forget which I chose. And of course; the final touch -- coated with delicious creamy but not too thick or thin gravy.

I had already been out and chose my various odd cuts of meat; glued them all together, and made sure that I got up very early that Sunday morning to prepare my English feast for them; just as one does on Christmas morning. Christmas Dinner is really just an English Sunday Roast, except with a bit more flare, so this was my Christmas Dinner for them, disguised as a Sunday Roast.

Long before any of the other house dwellers had arisen from their Sunday beds, I had peeled and prepared everything. The meat joint was in the oven; lying relaxed and sunbathing, and my veg was on slow boil. Even the gravy mix had been pre-prepared and was yearning to be laced with veg juice and fat from the meat, prior to being summoned to the gate en-route for Cook Island. The roast potatoes were also ready, coated and waiting for that same departure announcement.

My new German acquaintances slowly trickled downstairs and sat down in front of the late Sunday morning telly.  Still half asleep, they periodically took turns to stretch their faces, give out long wide yawns and wipe the morning sleep from their eyes. Meanwhile, the aroma of my Sunday roast was already whoofting its way in from the kitchen and teasing the ends of their nostrils..,

But that’s where it all went wrong for me!

In Germany, as soon as a German can smell food -- it’s time to get their spoon out -- and eat!

My roast dinner still had a fair distance to travel -- at least another forty-five minutes; which in cooking currency equals about an hour and thirty minutes.

But they wanted it now and were getting quite agitated about it!

What could I do?

I couldn’t have climbed in the oven with a power blow torch -- besides the potatoes for my cream mash were miles away from being ready. They just couldn’t believe that by this time, none of the veg was on full boil and wanted me to turn my Sunday Roast into a quick barbie!

Soon, they all started to raid the fridge for half eaten sausages and the like, and gave me hard disdainful looks as they did.

In the end, I served up my delicious Sunday Roast Dinner, but by then, they had all worked themselves up into such a hungered frenzy -- they shoved it all down their necks in less than two minutes.

They didn’t even waste any time to pick up their spoons.

It just seems that the Germans just cannot get to grips with the concept of cooking for such a long time; as long as it takes to cook a roast dinner. No matter how scrumptious the meal might in the end taste, that would still bear little or no consequence to them at all. For the Germans -- the final outcome would be severely undermined, simply because the meal takes far too long to prepare.

So European Community or not, there’s no way us British are ever going to export our Sunday Roast out to them.

Tea

In England, at five o’ clock in the late afternoon., it’s ‘Teatime!’

Yet despite stating that, I cannot really remember the last time I sat down at the table to have my tea. It seems to be more of a childhood memory for me. Somewhere along the days, months or years of my past life, that mealtime occasion has somehow quietly disappeared.

I guess it must have to do with the advent of TV dinners. Or perhaps its down to either myself or Rolf being at work all day, then coming home in the evening to have our dinner when; once upon a time, I used to have my tea.

Full-time employment has got a lot to answer for in regard to being fully responsible for diminishing our traditional eating customs. It used to be breakfast, dinner, tea and supper for many of us. More times than not, I am far too much in a rush in the morning to sit down and have breakfast; apart from flushing down a quick cup of tea. I’ll have a quick roll or sandwich at work around 11 a.m., and I’ll eat pretty much the same again at 1 p.m. About five or six in the evening, I’ll come home and have my dinner. Then if I become peckish after that -- maybe I’ll send out for fish n’ chips or a pizza to munch in front of the telly.

There has been many a time when just before I retire to my bed -- I’ll sit down and eat a whole bowl of cornflakes. Now I’ve really got it all mixed up -- I am having breakfast for my supper!

If I think about it, I suppose unless one has young children around, teatime is a meal event that soon surely starts to fade away and vanish. Nevertheless, for the lucky people who do somehow still manage to sit down every late afternoon or early evening and have tea --

‘Teatime’ in England will always be and hopefully, will never cease to be.

The Germans however, have got it all wrong. They think that our teatime can happen at anytime of the day and for us, mostly does. They think that our teatime is us -- simply taking time out for a cup of tea!

 

Well, I suppose teatime does also mean breaking for a cup of tea -- but teatime is also having spaghetti or baked beans on toast, egg n’ chips or even toast n’ jam around the table -- plus of course, having a nice cuppa tea!

Though teatime in England does not necessarily mean the same thing to all. It all depends on which side your bread is buttered. For the idle rich, they usually have lunch around Midday and then at 3 a.m., a trolley will be wheeled in by a maid who will serve them tea and cake. That is not ‘teatime’ as the ordinary people of England understand it -- that’s just the knobs having their afternoon tea because they haven’t got anything else better to do!

Later, I suppose those posh types will be eating their supper, when parents with young children will be serving tea -- and at the very same time, us poor working sods will be arriving home to sit down in front of the news -- and eat our dinner..,

It’s so simple really.., I just do not understand for the life of me why the Germans cannot figure it all out!

A German teatime is called Abendbrot (Evening Bread), and again, is so typically quick n’ simple.

Everybody just stays where they are; all seated around the telly -- the centre table is instantly cleared by one; usually the mother but it can vary. The many varieties of bread are thus carried through and placed -- then the whole of the fridge contents are upturned onto the table.

And it’s every man, woman and child for themselves.

That’s Abendbrot or ‘Tea’, for the Germans -- or is it their Supper?

Now I’m getting confused!