Where is my Schnitzel?!
Around 10:00 pm, Dusseldorf time.
I am all cleared for entry and I got my bags.
My “grandparents” (technically, the sister of my grandmother. You get the point.) received me with all smiles! I have not seen them for more than a decade. After the pleasantries, my grandmother asked me a question:
“What would you like to eat”?
Without thinking, I said, “Schnitzel!”. At this point, I do not know what a schnitzel was. I chose this because my friends from France told me to try a schnitzel. I thought it was a type of sausage. My grandparents discussed, in German, on where and how they could satisfy this craving. My flight was also short so there was no meal provided in my flight. Maybe they can already imagine how hungry I was.
We left the airport. While my eyes were transfixed in the streets and signs of Dusseldorf (it was night time so there was not much to see), my grandparents asked me many things — my flight, the memories of many years ago, my life in Canada, among many others. When we got closer to our neighborhood, we had a problem. It was a late Sunday night. The chances of finding a restaurant were close to impossible. After many attempts, combined with my 74-year-old German grandfather’s driving maneuvers, we accepted defeat and opted to eat at home.
I was quite exhausted at this point. I was in two countries in a day. My grandfather prepared a plate of vegetables and sausages for dinner. I forgot the name of the ensemble, but my grandmother pointed out certain elements of dish that made it uniquely German. The meal filled me up! Just a side note, I didn’t eat all of the sausages or even finished the plate of vegetables. If you know of this dish, please let me know.
Did I end up eating schnitzel during my trip? I did, for sure. I needed a good night’s sleep first.