Friday, August 2, 2013

German BBQ

“Do you trust me?”

Such a loaded question I thought as she starred down at me with a spoonful of sugar, mysterious shot of liquor and a lemon wedge.

Looking around the table at expectant eyes, I shrugged my shoulders, “sure, ok, yes!”

She slipped the spoon of sugar in my mouth, instructed me to shoot the liquor and then squeezed the lemon in my open mouth. What I tasted was deliriously sweet, with a touch of hazelnuts and finished with the tartness of the lemon.

They all waited a moment before asking… “So…?”

“Chocolate Cake.” 

The table erupted with laughter in agreement.

*   *   *   *   *

When Dan first told me we were invited to a co-workers home for a BBQ- I couldn’t contain myself. I was very excited- the thought of getting out of the house, talking to other people and perhaps even making local friends, I was very much delighted!

My trusty German travel book told me that when invited to someone’s home for dinner in Germany, you should always bring a small gift such as flowers. I made sure to grab a bunch of yellow daisies at the store. Along with grilling sausages and a bottle of wine.

When we arrived (just a short ride and a few villages over) there were 10 people sitting around 2 picnic tables pushed together on the small front patio with quite the spread in front of them. Chicken, turkey legs, grilled sausages and my new personal favorite-- grilled bacon on a stick!

I presented my flowers to Rebecca. She is the German wife to Dan’s coworker Bob. She was delighted and loudly mentioned she had now received more flowers from strangers than her husband.

She introduced Dan and I to the rest of the table. All of them lived within a few blocks. The gang included a handful of Americans working for the Army or Air Force, a few Germans and one Turkish German, or German Turk (they weren’t quite sure.)

Everyone was very nice and open to having new people join their neighborhood get together. They encouraged us to drink and eat; especially the rice crispy treats Rebecca had made as a special indulgence for her American husband.

The night involved very sophisticated conversation. At one point debating the necessity and logistics of a rooster living with hens. They will lay an egg everyday no matter what, I argued. The rest of the table was either uninterested or in strong disagreement with me. A quick Google search settled it, and I was indeed right, no rooster necessary.

(I rarely know more than other people, so this surprised me and seemed to impress others.)

There were German shooters, exchanging of life stories and “how’d you get heres”. At one point a hooka came out, as did the chocolate cake shots.

As the clock neared midnight, the neighbors began to swagger back home. We said our goodbyes and nice to meet yous and let’s do this agains.

On the drive home, Dan and I wondered if that sense of community and friendship with your neighbors is what we gave up when we chose the convenience of living in a bigger city.

[Update: we have since been back to Rebecca and Bob's and now I am affectionally referred to as "rooster girl". We'll see how long it takes to shake that nickname...]

1 comment:

  1. Rooster Girl is almost as good as Peacock Head.


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