I didn’t really want to go snooping in the refrigerator because it’s, you know, not polite. Plus, frankly I just really didn’t want to find out. But you didn’t need to poke around to know that something had gone off. And when I say off, I mean off-the-rails-watch-out-for-vultures off. So I made excursions into the fridge quick and to the point. No standing in front of the thing with the door open, humming Die Fledermaus while trying to decide if I was just peckish or full-on hungry, and would it be a Dagwood sandwich with multiple condiments or a pickle? I went in there and got the hell out.
Imagine then, cocktail (and wine and cheese) hour rolls around and the The Royal Indian Mounted Police waltzes into the living room with this alarming object on a cutting board. On the one hand at least I’d discovered the source of the problem, on the other…well, I was going to have to eat it.
This was one of those times when you wonder who the hell first put that in his/her mouth. If you hadn’t noticed it on the table, you’d be looking at your shoes to see if you stepped in something (although this being Germany, it is highly unlikely that would be happening).
While I was trying to contain my joy at the discovery of the problem (actually I was trying to decide if I could reasonably claim fatigue and go to bed at 6) he sliced into it and ate it. Despite the fact that I’d have been perfectly happy just eating the other cheese, a very nice St Marcellan, I figured if he can eat it I could too. And then there was the issue of him mocking me mercilessly if I didn’t at least try it so I threw caution to the wind…I mean, I knew it wasn’t going to kill me, it just looked like it.
It was sublime. Just exquisite. Mild and creamy/crumbly and perfect. Oddly, the St Marcellan which has no odor was a far stronger tasting cheese.
And now I can stand for hours in front of the refrigerator humming whatever the hell I want except that I’ve made the startling discovery that if you leave the door open too long the thing makes a seriously annoying sound not unlike an air horn.
4 Replies to “There was a problem in the refrigerator”
"Die Fledermaus", bitte
I agree-der (masculine), die (feminine), das (neutral) are definite articles in the nominative case; their use will depend on the the noun that follows eg. Der Beruf, Die Wohnung and Das Auto. Den is the accusative counterpart of der; die and das remain the same in the accusative case.
Oh fer chrissake.
Der is funnier though