The Nazi Menu

THE NAZI MENU

(It leaves a nasty taste…)

Once, not so long ago, a middle-aged couple from North Dakota took a walking holiday in the Austrian Alps, but one afternoon they veered from the path and became hopelessly lost. It began to grow dark. They saw a hamlet through the trees and decided to make for it, have a meal and then, fortified, find their way back to the road. They entered an old style Tyrolean inn and sat down wearily, ready to do justice to whatever local delicacies might be offered them.

‘I can’t make head or tail of this menu honey, they have such weird names, but then this is Europe I guess.’ said Hal.

‘Yeah, but it’s all part of the adventure Hon, now what you gonna have?’ replied Elvira.

‘Well I was toying with the Gauleiter soup, but then I had soup for lunch, maybe I should go for something else like er… Sturmabteilung, yeah that sounds cool – has quite a kick it says here, extra chilli in there I guess. Well it’s between that and the Leibstandarte, no, I’ll stick with the Gauleiter. What about you sugar pie?’

‘Mmm… well I was wondering about a Streicher salad, it says they always pick the “freshest, youngest shoots and leaves”.

Great! Now what about drinks? I could drain a rain barrel.

‘A cold beer for me – hey garcon, sir, what beers do you have?’

‘Blondi or Braun mein Herr’

‘Oh a Blondi for me, what about you sugar plum?’

‘I’ll have a glass of Hess please, sounds refreshing – “a light impressionable white you can always rely on…” ’

‘Jawohl! And for your main course meine damen und herren?

‘I think we might need some help there Hans…’

‘No problem ‘Hal’. We are friends now of course, ze war has been over a long time, no?’

‘You mean ‘I’raq? – yeah, well we brought those folks freedom, apple pie and the Uncle Sam way, but they just don’t get it huh Hans?’

‘Nein, er… but now zen, might I recommend today’s house speciality – Goebbels Fowl.

‘Is that fried Hans?’

‘No, roasted, and very well done…or you could have ze famous local Reichsfuhrer SS sausages, which are served with a homemade dumpling called Goering. It’s very filling. I am afraid we are all out of stuffed Heydrichs, a problem with our Czech supplier.’

‘I’m fowl, how about you sugar?’

‘Me too, sounds too good to miss…’

‘Don’t forget Hans, burnt to a crisp!’

‘No problem’

twenty minutes later…

‘Hon, this is deeelicious!!’

‘Yeah, and so much, almost like back home, but strange there’s no one else at this restaurant, given the exceptional quality of the food…?

ten minutes later…

‘Now zen, do you have room for dessert meine damen und herren? We have ze following to tempt your sweet tooth…

a Geli Raubal, a Wilhelm Keitel, three scoops of Jodl, or Kaltenbrunner flan with whipped Eichmann.’

‘Gee, what a choice! I’m stuffed with Goebbels, but maybe I could just find room for a chocolate Jodl. What about you hon?’

‘I’ll go for the Kal’..what’s it? the flan..’

‘Alles in ordnung!’

twenty minutes later…

‘Here are your ersatz coffees and with the compliments of ze house, our special Berghof biscuits…’

‘Well, don’t mind if I do Hans…you’re a gentleman and no mistake.’

‘Do you know Hon how lucky we yanks are to find these cute little European places with their crazy names and funny customs? I mean a restaurant called Arbeit Macht Frei sounds real neat…make a note of it. I wonder what it means? Hal, Hal! Are you listening to me?’

‘Yeah sure Hon, just letting my Kaltenbrunner go down…belch…’

‘Wait till I tell the folks back home what we ate tonight, they’ll be so jealous..!’

‘Yeah, these Austrian dudes sure know how to lay on a spread…’

The bill arrives and they pay, smiles all round…

Hans salutes smartly over the table…

‘Sieg Heil!’

‘Yeah, Zeeg Hail to you buddy and come to America soon Hans, there’s sure a big market for Goebbels Fowl I reckon…’

The two sated travellers leave the Inn and make for the road through a copse of dark firs forced into sinister silhouette by the light of a new moon. Safely back in the fairytale city of S they glow with unforeseen adventure and yearn to talk of their experience to strangers. They happen to mention the name of the Inn in which they feasted to the deceptively friendly hotel staff dressed in pristine Tyrolean costume, who firmly insist to them that no such restaurant exists. The confused American couple are treated cursorily for the remainder of their visit.

Will Stone