Fontana di Trevi

Favorite restaurant in Frankfurt. We have not been back there since my last visit in May. But as soon as we walked in the waiter’s eyes opened wide and he rushed to greet us with gusto. It is possible that he was happy we returned but more than likely he knows a couple of suckers when he sees them. 

He smoothly talks us into things we’d never eat, cajoles us into wines much more expensive ($22 more, fer chrissake) than we’d normally drink, and flatters us into more courses than people consider normal even for fat cows like me.

I had the vitello tonnato, veal with tuna sauce and The Royal Indian Mounted Police went with the mozzarella ball on tomatoes or some such thing. And then he had a steak with about 4 pounds of truffles shaved onto it. Me, not liking the truffle thing too much, went with pasta carbonara. The waiter, whose recommendation of whatever-the-hell-it-was, I did not take, nonetheless declared my choice Perfect!!

It was a good-to-great meal and it’s nice to be recognized and welcomed like that but not great getting cornered into buying things and upsold. I’m finding that food and restaurant aside, the waiter is often what makes the meal. I should write a book.

Maintenant, à Paris.

Griechenland aus Deutschland

Right at the moment I am so tired I could fucking sleep in the kitchen with my face in the sink and my butt on the stove (on low though). Last night I was twice as tired and we walked across the street to the Greek restaurant. Somehow Greek food in Europe is in a higher class of cuisine than it is in the USA. I am not sure why but I think anything bad can be basically traced back to Donald Trump. 

I’m lucky that I do not live across the street from this place. I would live there. We ordered saganaki, fried cheese, and beans as appetizers. The cheese was fabulous but these beans, giganda plaki or some such thing were just beyond compare. I ordered moussaka as my main course but I’d have been perfectly happy just to have had the cheese and beans, as it was we didn’t eat all of either thing, and there was a salad under the cheese that we didn’t even touch. And then came the moussaka. It was just gorgeous and fabulous. 

If the exquisitely handsome greek waiter hadn’t been outside smoking, with the smoke wafting back in on us, it’d have been one of my all time favorite meals despite the fact that I had to repeatedly rest my face on the tines of the fork to keep from sleeping at the table.

Getting controlled

Back in Germany for a sec. 

I love countries with great public transit. Because Frankfurt had the hell bombed out of it they were able to put in a subway system, pronounced Oobahn. And it is awesome. You can just go and get on. It’s not like New York where you need a ticket to get on. You do however need to carry a passcard and very occasionally some guys come around and check your passcard. I have no idea why it is such a thrill for me to have my card checked. 

It is super fun when these guys get on. The entire car goes quiet. And some people get the hell off, presumably people who do not have passes. It’s entertaining to watch. But occasionally they do catch people. The fine is heavy and they just deduct it from your bank account.

I got controlled twice. It felt so good.

Culinary diversity in Germany

So Persia. First meal. Glam wine decanter with matching goblet. Grilled meat doused with pomegranate molasses. Perfect rice. I don’t know how they do that, make it so perfectly fluffy and toothsome. Even The Royal Indian Mounted Police was impressed and he is very hard to impress particularly as regards rice. (You should see the barely contained revulsion on his face when I make rice).

Spain. Second meal (lunch). Just tapas but WOW. Fabulous meal. The sauce on the potatoes, tomato, red pepper, garlic and anchovy was amazing. Yes, anchovies. I ate them, granted it was only the mildest of anchovy tastes but it was exquisite. I’m hoping it sets me on the road to a late-in-life love of anchovies.

Germany. Second dinner. The starter was “hand cheese.” This puts me in mind of other bodily excretion related non-edibles like “toe jam.” Although it could reasonably have been called hand-flavored, I really have no idea what the hell it was and only the balsamic vinegar and sun-dried tomatoes made it palatable. The sauerkraut and sausage was good. But being from, you know, Milwaukee and all, a very high bar has already been set. Usinger’s bratwurst are still a gold standard. 

So far the best thing I’ve had in Frankfurt is anchovy sauce. 😮