Dec. 6th, 2002 11:01 am
Strangers with cake
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muckefuckEvery year, I play St. Nicholas for my hard-working employees. Last night, I went to the Christkindlmarkt at Daley Plaza for supplies. I love it there: All my favourite imported holiday treats (at least the Mitteleuropäischen ones) and I get to order them in German! Plus, there are the steaming savories whose appeal escapes ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rollick, though the prices might at least strike her as reasonable.
I think the language might have influenced the decision of the Plauener running one of the little Bambes-Hütten to give me an extra portion of Kassler Rippchen. "My boss is killink me," he said, "aber iss egal." I would've ordered Bambes there, too, but I'd already sampled those at another stand with an overly generous side of applesauce ("Nicht die Hälfte!" the worker who had poured it was chided). A woman from one of the stands in the row facing the full might of the winter wind tried hard to sell me on some other sweets after I made it clear I was interested only in the Elisenlebkuchen she didn't have; I returned to the "Sweets-Castle" near the State Street entrance to buy them.
There, they also had Kinderüberraschungseier, which have only recently begun to appear in this country. They've been available throughout Europe for years, but the FDA wouldn't approve their sale in the USA because of the small toys inside them. At least, that's the story I heard from a vendor at the Markt several years ago who had smuggled in a clutch. "The stupid Amis," he began, oblivious to the fact that I was one of them.
Laden with a half-dozen of these, plus marzipan pigs and chocolate chimney sweeps, I made my way to Rokucha. There I broke out the chocolate-covered brandied cherries for My Chef and the Lebkuchen for myself. They let me munch away without any intention of ordering their food and poured me cup after cup of tea (which they forgot to charge me for) as I did so. A multiethnic trio to my left was celebrating a birthday. Just about the time I was offering the Thai woman one of my cookies, the staff brought out an oreo cake from the Swedish Bakery that she and he Korean boyfriend had procured for their Caucasian buddy. She took the Lebkuchen anyway, and they gave me a fat piece of cake in return. So fat, I couldn't finish it--not after wolfing down 100 gm. of spiced German confection.
For form's sake, I didn't give up nibbling at it until after they had left. Then I left half the package of cherries with My Chef and waddled back home. I woke up early, but--because of that idiotic credit hassle--didn't get into the office before my employees. I had to wait until two were on break to dash around and ornament their desks. In return, the German-speaking one brought a copy of Sankt Nikolaus in Not, a short story I'd never heard of but which she swears is a component of German cultural literacy despite its Flemish origins. I'll probably start on it tonight and save The physics of Christmas for my flight to STL.
rollick, though the prices might at least strike her as reasonable.I think the language might have influenced the decision of the Plauener running one of the little Bambes-Hütten to give me an extra portion of Kassler Rippchen. "My boss is killink me," he said, "aber iss egal." I would've ordered Bambes there, too, but I'd already sampled those at another stand with an overly generous side of applesauce ("Nicht die Hälfte!" the worker who had poured it was chided). A woman from one of the stands in the row facing the full might of the winter wind tried hard to sell me on some other sweets after I made it clear I was interested only in the Elisenlebkuchen she didn't have; I returned to the "Sweets-Castle" near the State Street entrance to buy them.
There, they also had Kinderüberraschungseier, which have only recently begun to appear in this country. They've been available throughout Europe for years, but the FDA wouldn't approve their sale in the USA because of the small toys inside them. At least, that's the story I heard from a vendor at the Markt several years ago who had smuggled in a clutch. "The stupid Amis," he began, oblivious to the fact that I was one of them.
Laden with a half-dozen of these, plus marzipan pigs and chocolate chimney sweeps, I made my way to Rokucha. There I broke out the chocolate-covered brandied cherries for My Chef and the Lebkuchen for myself. They let me munch away without any intention of ordering their food and poured me cup after cup of tea (which they forgot to charge me for) as I did so. A multiethnic trio to my left was celebrating a birthday. Just about the time I was offering the Thai woman one of my cookies, the staff brought out an oreo cake from the Swedish Bakery that she and he Korean boyfriend had procured for their Caucasian buddy. She took the Lebkuchen anyway, and they gave me a fat piece of cake in return. So fat, I couldn't finish it--not after wolfing down 100 gm. of spiced German confection.
For form's sake, I didn't give up nibbling at it until after they had left. Then I left half the package of cherries with My Chef and waddled back home. I woke up early, but--because of that idiotic credit hassle--didn't get into the office before my employees. I had to wait until two were on break to dash around and ornament their desks. In return, the German-speaking one brought a copy of Sankt Nikolaus in Not, a short story I'd never heard of but which she swears is a component of German cultural literacy despite its Flemish origins. I'll probably start on it tonight and save The physics of Christmas for my flight to STL.
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You got
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Welches ist das allergrößte Kompliment, das man einer schwäbischen Frau überhaupt machen kann?
"Ha, Du siesch aber abgschafft aus!"
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Jetzt geh Ich nach dem Christkindlmarkt, Ich bin froh!
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Dein Oma hot doch Dir ziimlich vil biigbracht, gel? Von meina hab i gor nitt glärnt! Vil Spass am Weihnachtsmarkt. Des erinnat mi aa nen dumme Hässäwitz:
Manny: "Ey, wo geht es hier nach Aldi?"
Alter Mann (korregierend): "Zu Aldi!"
Manny: "Scho so spät?"
Nix für ungut, gel! Adele!
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Actually schwaetz i kei Swabian, oba i A Jaehrle in Badn gwohnt. Dr Nuphi, with which i zwo Johr zsammnglaebt, hot friaha in dr sew from Stuttgart glaebt and knows A bissle schwaetzae. "Putzfimmel" isch stop kei Swabian, s heisch ungfaehr "cleanliness illusion". Your granny you ziimlich vil biigbracht hot nevertheless, gel? Of meina have i fermented nitt glaernt! Vil fun at the Weihnachtsmarkt. Mi aa nen stupid Haessaewitz erinnat: Manny: "Ey, where it goes here to Aldi?" Old man (korregierend): "to Aldi!" Manny: "Scho so late?" Nix for bad, gel! Ennoble!
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(Except for the last bit, which is basically Hochdeutsch. But it's a Sprachwitz, based on the use of zu to mean both "towards" and "closed". It can't be translated, only explained.)