This post is targeted at the subgroup of my charming readers who understand Italian and are interested in the phenomenon of Bavarian cuisine that is the Brezl. (Pretzel. Bretzel. Brezn. Spelling optional.) – Yes, for you. You got an entire blog post written just for you! Warm fuzzy feeling? Good.
The Bavarian cuisine doesn’t have much going for it in your author’s humble opinion. Pork and deep-fried breading as far as the eye can see. If you wanna get rid of someone, why not try a change from your usual feet-in-concrete routine? Just treat them to a proper Bavarian meal and they’ll sink to the ocean floor just as well. Make sure to include some Opatzda (like Austro-Hungarian Liptauer spread, just heavier, fattier and less spicy), some Schweinsbraten and Knödel (not the fluffy Semmelknödel kind, a stickier, chewier and, surprise, heavier potato-based version). If I sound bitter, it’s because I am. Can’t find proper fresh Kren (grated horseradish) anywhere in this godforsaken country. All they have is Sahnemeerrettich (yep, that’s adding heavy cream to perfectly fine horseradish) or horseradish paste that has been sweetened and tamed into pointlessness.
With all the aforementioned problems of the Bavarian cuisine, you’d think it is a sad misfortune to be stranded here and I’d totally agree if it weren’t for the cleanliness, orderliness, friendliness and general ridiculously high standard of living not limited to, but definitely including, the possibility of purchasing Butterbrezn at every corner. Butterbrezn is their saving grace, their redemption, their shining beacon of light cutting through the dark vast wasteland that is the germanic alpine region’s sad excuse for a local cuisine. I’m allowed to say that, I’m Austrian. As an Austrian in Germany you quickly start to feel like itty bitty kitty since Germans tend to coo ‘awww you’re Austrian right? Such a cute accent’ five seconds into any conversation. After you’ve heard that 3,000,000 times, you tend to go Mean Kitty rather than cutesy fluffy eyelash-batting kitty, but at least I probably won’t get deported for ranting a bit. I hope. You can never tell with Bavarians.
Poor Italian Brezen aficionado, you’re about to give up on this post, aren’t you? Please don’t. Here comes the part that’s just for you, it’s my Italian friend’s Ode to the Bretzel.