Nach München. To Munich. It was a quick (not really) 3.5 hour fast train ride for the weekend in Munich. We chose old fashioned German beer hall kinda places for meals. Friday night we chose Zum Franziskaner which had, when we entered, a jolly oompah band playing.
Our first course arrived with a couple of slices of sülze (headcheese) on it, as well as various sausages, cheeses and shaved kohlrabi. Right up my mother’s alley. I have never tried sülze, and here, with strains of Heidschi Bumedschi blatting in the background I had little choice but try it. I mean, it wasn’t going to kill me. It’s a theme. While it was in no way as good as the deadly looking cheese I ate last week it had a peculiar kind of slick shimmering ickiness but it turned out to be very good. And it was light years better than “hand cheese,” fer chrissake. I ate it mit gusto. Sorta. I’d certainy eat it again.
You can keep the kohlrabi though. Reminds me of the damn raw vegetarian meals my father used to foist on us when we were growing up.
My meal, sauerbraten, was OK but I am finding that Milwaukee has good German food. I’ve always liked Maders (I feel bad about Karl Raasch) and their sauerbraten is way better than this was. Not that it was bad. It was fine but my grandfather would have been disappointed. The Royal Indian Mounted Police had steak. And it was good, if not as Oompahish as one might be wanting to experience surrounded by all this Germanic splendor.