Cómpralo ya!įollow Louis on Twitter at and Instagram at. I didn’t ask who she was or what is was for, but that sweet sound helped my food go down better than any German lager ever could.
Pleased with myself, I paid the check and was about to ride off into the reddish sunset, when I heard a female voice singing out into the chasm between the buildings. Each tender cut was a joy to bite down on and ravish, the unique flavor of fat and muscle coming together with the German potato salad to create an absolute biergarten in my mouth.Įvery second at Das Boot Camp was pure bliss, leaving me no room for dessert. Apparently a staple meal in Munich, a hulking slab of glorious pork-larger than any steak I’ve had, to be sure-is slow roasted and dowsed in Oktoberfest beer gravy, like any good cut of pork really should. Well lock me up, because when I put these two thin wieners on trial, I ended up finding these cuts to be guilty of the crime…of being too darn tasty! The spicy flavor was on-point, aided and abetted by the most delicious warm sauerkraut and even more delicious roll.īut even that was a mere pittance when it came to my grand Wagnerian entrée, the Munich Pork Roast ($10.79). Featuring Wisconsin cheese curds dipped in a beer batter and rolled in crushed pretzels, after a thorough frying, this small-batch-though large by the standards of other countries-was a remarkable variation on fried cheese, the spicy German mustard an added bonus.Īfter only having a few of them, I pushed it away to sample my next decadent dish, the Nurnberger Sausage ($7.99), a pair of traditional lean pork sausages seasoned with marjoram, with a name that sounds like a prison. Something of a lighter appetizer-as light as German food can be, that is-I started with a bit of the small German Beer and Pretzel Cheese Curds ($5.99). Eats ordered, I sat there, by myself, my mind beginning to stray into the depths of Nietzsche-ian self-destruction, about to slash my wrists with the dull blade when my food finally came. If only all things worked out that way.Īs the staff moved tables and chairs around to placate a birthday party that would be arriving soon, I found a seat and looked over the menu, quickly realizing how much I truly enjoyed German food, especially at such a low price-point. But I honestly remembered nothing about it-blessed by memory loss, I suppose-so, technically, it was like my first time all over again. I locked my bike in front and, pulling the extremely heavy door, remembered the only other time I had been here was with an ex-girlfriend many years ago, well before my stroke.
They should be proud of that…but not too proud. With a name that’s apparently a play on the 1981 film Das Boot-at least I hope so-it’s a Teutonically rustic restaurant on a somewhat modernized block, with a menu that screams nothing is over $12.00. That’s the main reason why this weekend I had a lonely dinner at Das Boot Camp, 229 E. Although Germans are responsible for one of the greatest evils mankind has ever faced, I have to admit, they do have some pretty good qualities too: their houses are reasonably well-built, their women are a sturdy folk and, best of all, their food is always a filling proposition, usually based around something that I truly love, sausages.
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