Joseph Roth Diele. Really just the sweetest nicest little restaurant I’ve ever been in. The food is good, not gonna get a James Beard Award but the food is certainly, like grandma made (OK, not my grandma, but someone’s). My friend Karen and I went for lunch. I was insistent that we get there before noon while she dawdled along gawping at shit and there I was hurrying her up. She was like Jesus! OK! Alright already, I’m coming! Jeez.
We sat down at 11:55 (despite her efforts to slow me down) and exactly at noon the place filled completely up—with people standing outside waiting to get in.
Unfortunately they got our order mixed up with the people behind us who then left in a German huff over it. I’d ordered the semmelknödeln, bread dumplings in mushroom gravy, and Karen had ordered the spätzle with mushrooms and mushroom gravy. What we actually received was spätzle with Swiss cheese and spätzle with onions and speck. I knew it was wrong when they set it down but the people who work there do not speak a word of English and the top of my head got sweaty just thinking about saying “Oh pardon me I believe I’d ordered the . . . ” And the possibility that I had mistakenly actually ordered these meals existed and I didn’t want to make a fuss, you know, being conflict avoidant and all. Fortunately I was unable to witness the snafu behind me. Karen took the brunt of it. The lady seemed to think it was Karen’s fault. I stayed out of it. I didn’t want to get involved.
I do want the semmelknödlen so I will be going back.
I think people all over the world do the “German Huff” when they feel they were slighted. Sad but true
Maybe this felt worse since the “huff” was specifically directed at us. And really, I knew it wasn’t our food. Or at least suspected it.
It’s a quarter past twelve. Did you eat fast?
OMG. Eagle eyes. No. I took that picture on a different day. Year even.