An American Mishap in Germany

View from my apartment in Germany

When I was stationed in Germany (thirty years ago), my wife and children and I, lived in a cozy two bedroom apartment above a cute little gift store, on the third floor. The picture on the side here was the actual view from one of our windows (although the picture hasn't fared well over the years and has some damage). We lived right in the middle of all the hustle and bustle of town. There were every kind of store that we could ever want. There was a liquor store, and ice cream  parlor, a clothing store, bars, restaurants, and even a grocery store all within a block of were we lived. We were on the town square after all. On the weekends we would go to the ice cream parlor, but not the one near our house, but the one that was about six or eight blocks from us because one, we liked the atmosphere better (even though it was owned by the same family), and two, it was located near a pizza place and a wonderful steak house that served the best steaks and pickled vegetables. It looked like a modern tiny house. My wife would always get the pepper steak  (made with bell peppers not the black pepper) and I would always get the steak with mushroom gravy. (I haven't had a steak that good in over thirty years). They would serve the steaks with fries but before you got your steak, they would bring out a huge platter of pickled vegetables that my kids and I would devour quickly. A lot of times if we weren't too full from dinner we would go for desert next door to get ice cream. Now if we had eaten prior to visiting the parlor, we would only get a cone, but on the days we didn't eat at the steak house we would go inside and sit down. My wife was adventurous when ordering ice cream. She would order different things every time, (until she became pregnant and had to be careful to ask for nonalcoholic dishes) but I had my favorite and didn't deviate from it often. It was a large ball of ice cream, half chocolate half vanilla, filled with a thick cherry liquor syrup and topped with chocolate shavings, whipped cream and more cherry liquor. (It was to die for).
Now I'm telling this story out of order on purpose. I wanted to share what our lives were like living in that German town and the wonderful time that we had, but now I will tell you of our mistake.

When we first got our apartment, we were new to the country, neither one of us spoke the language, or knew the customs, but we fully embraced and immersed ourselves in the culture. So we decided that instead of shopping on the post I was stationed at, (there was no variety of anything there. Just the basics.), we would go shopping at the Aldis that was just a block from our apartment. We had never heard of this store, (there was nothing like it in the small town that we came from. This was a new concept. No grocery bags and everything was still in their shipping boxes). Some friendly Germans helped us when we first entered the doors and explained how things worked (seemed like no matter where we went there was always some nice person more than willing to help you understand one thing or the other). We stumbled through the store, struggling to read the German words on the food wrappers, and we were happy with our success, that was until we got home. We were making the noodles for tuna casserole, and everything was going well, that is until my wife opened one of the many cans of "thunfisch". She stated that the tuna looked weird with gravy and vegetables and I took one look in the can and suddenly realized what it was. It was cat food. Eventually we would get the hang of shopping on the German economy (that's what they called not shopping at the post), but not right away.
Two weeks later, I came home from work and my wife was so proud of herself, because she decided to go solo, and brave going back to that store. She just so happens to love potted meat and she had bought at least a dozen cans of the stuff. She opened the can and a familiar smell waft through the air. It was familiar to me because I grew up eating such things but not to her. To her it smelled disgusting. I laughed as I picked up the can and saw the word "leberwurst" (liverwurst).