I have been visiting my sister, who lives on an Army base in Germany. The base functions as a little self-sufficient island, surrouded by heavenly corn and sunflower fields, and Bavarian villages whose flower-boxed houses look as though they might be inhabited by fully-functioning talking animals.
In the surrounding towns and villages lives a potato dumpling so otherworldly in texture, it's alien mellow smoothness the kind of thing I will crave forever, without really being able to select the right words to explain it.
And 5 minutes away at an inn on the side of the road marked by a giant Windmill, there is a Wiener Schnitzel that played me like a musical instrument. I couldn't really talk while I ate it. Could only make sounds with each bite. Rich salty pork, dusted in crumb and sizzled hot. With vinegar doused potato salad. My first meal here after flying all night.
And on base, there is this:
A Doner is essentially a Gyro made with Turkey. Bread or pita, all the toppings, and long-roasted turkey piled on top.
Good and Messy.
And big plates of saucy things with bright red berries and spatzle and mushrooms, eaten in Alpine lodges.
And bakeries that sparkle with gold-leaf and line up their outgoing dessert orders like modeling contestants.
Germany is for eating. So I did.