Then about four
in the afternoon he browses a bit, just to keep up his appetite
for dinner. This, though, is but a snack--say, a school of Bismarck
herring and a kraut pie, some more coffee and more cake, and one
thing and another--merely a preliminary to the real food, which
will be coming along a little later on. Between acts at the theater
he excuses himself and goes out and prepares his stomach for supper,
which will follow at eleven, by drinking two or three steins of
thick Munich beer, and nibbling on such small tidbits as a rosary
of German sausage or the upper half of a raw Westphalia ham. There
are forty-seven distinct and separate varieties of German sausage
and three of them are edible; but the Westphalia ham, in my judgment,
is greatly overrated. It is pronounced Westfailure with the accent
on the last part, where it belongs.
In Germany, however, there is a pheasant agreeably smothered in
young cabbage which is delicious and in season plentiful. The
only drawback to complete enjoyment of this dish is that the
grasping and avaricious German restaurant keeper has the confounded
nerve to charge you, in our money, forty cents for awhole pheasant
and half a peck of cabbage--say, enough to furnish a full meal
for two tolerably hungry adults and a growing child.
The Germans like to eat and they love a hearty eater.
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