Trifter

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The year was 1977 and I was stationed in a wonderful place called Aschaffenburg, Germany. The town bustled with activity daily primarily because of the 3 different units that where squeezed into the town, an infantry unit ,tanker unit and a engineer unit.  Needless to say we had our fair share of boasting rights squabbles.I enjoyed being an infantry man in Europe, it let me walk on the same sacred grounds that not only my ancestors had walked, fought and died on but as well as the long line of infantrymen before me. I enjoyed , just as any young man at the time did, my downing a few of Germany’s finest brew and attempting to flirt with a pretty Fraulein but I also enjoyed finding good – no – great food.

 It was on one of my investigating walk abouts that I came upon the  best little nook that resulted in a food discovery memory. I had gone down to the actual castle of Aschaffenburg and was wandering the little cobblestone streets. I soon noticed that the German- English conversations were starting to be no more and that I had indeed wandered into an area that isn’t frequented that much by GI’s. This didn’t prevent me on my pursuit because one of the traits I have of being a Halfbreed, is that my Father was a Coushatta Indian but my Mother was born and raised in this beautiful place called Germany and I had to learn how to speak both languages.

 I stuck my head into this little eatery that I swear most have came out of a fable book. The tables were actually molded into the walls of what must have been part of the original castle servant quarters. The tables were smooth as glass from year and years of scrubbing and wiping. Although there were a few signs of electrical powered lights, the tables were adorned with  wine bottles that had candles lit in them, heavily covered with wax.

 The inn keeper came up  and he motioned for his daughter to follow, I recognized this sign ( he was going to have her interpret) and greeted him in german. You could have heard a pin drop! As he returned my greeting and the conversation went beyond the  instant german booklet, I could tell that I had put him at ease and we began the history lesson on the inn.

 The lesson began with a trip down to the cellar and he opened a bottle of wine that I tell you I’m sure some of my for father drank at the Victory party. We then went upstairs  and there on the table was flamed duck, potato pancakes, sliced wurst and bread and a german mixed salad! I told the inn keeper that my pocket book was not going to make it past the bread and salad , of which he paid me no mind.

 I left that little inn just in time to make my curfew but I left with meeting two super special people and great cooks, a memory that I still have of the the day ate like a king but paid only with a patient ear and gratitude.