It is always nice to get something for free, and if you get to learn from the experience, that's just an extra bonus.
And I feel like I am a better person for it.
Things started innocently enough on Wednesday evening. Work has been rather hectic in recent days, and midweek was no different; I headed over to the pub for a bit just to clear my head. A few regulars were already standing at the bar, while the patio was unusually full due to the lingering summerlike temperatures. I stood at the bar with my friends and we chatted randomly as the landlord unboxed a crate of what turned out to be little jars of marmalade, sticky onion marmalade, to be specific.
Promotions in the pub are always kind of fun, and I always accept whatever freebies are on offer. Thus, I have really useless things lying around the house like umpteen little stress-relief squeezy rugby balls, various keychains with flashlights that don't work, and a couple of bottle openers. The bottle opener is actually quite helpful, especially since I never have gotten to be proficient at opening bottles in the creative German ways. Normally such promotions require the recipient to consume a certain amount of beverages before they get a little prize. (Once, in London, Chris and I had to drink 8 beers in order for him to get a t-shirt, and if he has worn that shirt more than once in the past 10 years, I would be surprised)
I always think of that Saturday afternoon when faced with new opportunities to receive a little prize. The aftermath of that afternoon cost me quite a bit in brain cells, so my standard rule is to refuse to consume any quantity of anything in order to receive such prize. Fortunately, the landlord has also understood this through the years, so as he unboxed the crate, he slid a few jars of this marmalade to those of standing at the bar watching him. No need for each of us to drink 4 pints of Guinness.
To be clear, we were all thankful for the small gift, then we all struggled to read the fine print on the label to find out exactly what we had just received. For me, I think of putting marmalade (usually orange) on toast in the mornings for breakfast. Sticky onion marmalade did not prompt such thought, and of course, the obvious question arose almost immediately. What the hell does this taste like?
I solved the mystery simply by opening up my jar and sticking a pinky in, just to get a little taste. I offered my jar to the others to sample, and we all stood there for a few seconds trying to come up with the right descriptive words.
The general consensus was that it tasted okay, but no one had the perfect idea as to what to use the marmalade with. Ideally, it would be used with some sort of meat, and this is logical because the marmalade tastes pretty much like cold caramelized onions. For those American readers who are familiar with that grungy onion stuff that gets left over on the sizzling fajita platter at any sports bar (or some of the more Tex-Mex restaurants, like On the Border), it's like that stuff was put into a little jar and prepped to be used as a condiment.
If that is your thing, then you will definitely like this sticky onion marmalade.
A few other patrons came in the pub after work, noticed several of us standing at the bar with pint glasses in front of us, next to little jars of marmalade, and of course, they wanted a jar, too. Likewise, they asked, "What does it taste like?" at which point I would hold out my jar for them to sample.
This went on for about the next 2 hours, during which time the general conversation topic turned to cooking. Several of my friends are handy in the kitchen, and this was certainly not the first time we have stood around discussing various ingredients or types of food. (The previous week we had debated the ideal cheese to go on top of a hamburger.) What is kind of cool is that everyone seems to have a slightly different area of expertise, so my Mexican-American friend can talk about the finer points of proper Mexican cooking, another guy goes once a month to France to purchase cheese and other stuff, and a few others are simply really knowledgeable on all fronts. It makes for a nice mix.
Well, eventually condiments entered the discussion, partially because of the number of marmalade jars sitting on the bar, and then someone mentioned horseradish. This was always a sort of special condiment in our house when I was growing up. It was used from time to time, but mostly the little jar sat ignored in the tray on the door of the refrigerator, along with the other condiments.
Although I am quite familiar with horseradish, I never used it so much. If anything, I would use wasabi with Asian dishes, but it is not as if I buy wasabi to have in the tray on the door of my refrigerator. In Germany, horseradish is used a lot more often. I first discovered this when I was at a local Apfelweinkneipe, and there was a little portion of horseradish next to another similarly colored item on my plate. The restaurant was dimly lit, and I just scooped something onto my fork and was rather surprised when my sinuses started dancing like they about to win a contest.
That particular day was the first day that I learned the German word for horseradish, Meerrettich.
Again, this is not a condiment that I regularly used, and once I knew how to be on the lookout for hidden plops of the stuff on my plate, I just accepted things and got on with it. To be clear, I do like horseradish, but like with really strong mustard, a little goes a long way. Wasabi, too, for that matter.
So, the word Meerrettich has been a part of my German vocabulary, but like the actual product, it goes mostly unused. Several years ago, I did have some sort of craving for it, and spent 30 minutes looking for the product in the grocery store. (For the answers to the questions like, "why the hell didn't you ask somebody?" see one of my previous posts about how much fun you can have in a supermarket exploring the aisles or on how to be a complete stubborn male and refuse to ask for help)
Contrary to logic, said Meerrettich was not in the condiment aisle as I would have expected, but in a small little miscellaneous shelf. I finally found it that day, and made a note to myself of the location for that next time (in another 5 years) when I might actually need some.
Pause while I humbly concede that I had expected to find a huge section of various condiments in the grocery store, and to some extent that is true: there are multiple shelves of different types of mustard. However, the assortment is minimal in comparison to an American grocery store. I had simply assumed to find a certain shelf in the market with horseradish because of my experiences of finding such a product on aisle 13 of Alberton's or Tom Thumb. I forgot that a lot of people make their stuff fresh, by simply buying the ingredient, in this case from actual plant root. The realization was kind of like when I first found out what a nutmeg looks like.
This all brings me to the point on Wednesday evening when I found out that for the last 10 years (since I first learned the word Meerrettich) I have been mispronouncing the word. Colassally.
First, I will extend my thanks to my friend who helped me learn how to pronounce the word properly.
Now, we will dive in to the details. German is a complicated language, for sure. One umlaut separates the word for humid and homosexual. Get that wrong, and the context of what you are saying can create a reaction not unlike some unsuspecting soul eating horseradish for the first time in their life.
For me, I had pushed through the intimidation of so many double letters in the same word and focused on the word Meer, which is the word for ocean or sea. To a native speaker, the pronunciation of Meer is noticeably different from the word mehr (more). To a plonker like myself, the difference is a little more subtle. (See the paragraph above, I cannot tell you the number of times that I have loudly exclaimed, "what a gay day," when complaining about the muggy temperature outside)
Likewise, the plural of Meer is Meere, and in the grammar rules of German, there are certain ways that you have to align the endings of adjectives. Thus, one might say from time to time "mehrer" or something similar when talking about "more." Those two words, to me, do not sound too different, and usually it is context that helps one grasp the meaning. Same thing with the pronunciation of -tich, which can sound remarkably similar to the word Tisch, which is the German word for table. At least, in my world.
All this time, I have basically (albeit infrequently) been bastardizing the word and saying something like Mehrer Tisch, which means absolute nothing, but a kind, understanding German might accept that utterance as "more tables." Using my logic, I have simply thought, "sure, we can say more tables or possibly sea tables when referring to horseradish, since why the hell is it called HORSEradish in the first place?"
Wednesday evening, Mono quietly told me the German word for radish, Rettich.
Oh.
So, back to the word with a little background explanation, I can clearly see Meer and Rettich.
Sea Radish.
I know, it doesn't make any more sense than Horse Radish, but there you go.
Even had I learned the German words for random vegetables that I have spent a lifetime trying to avoid (more on broccoli, peas, Brussels sprouts, and asparagus later) eating, I don't think I would have made the connection with Radish and Rettich as part of the word for horse radish.
Mono additionally reminded me of a couple of basic grammar rules when breaking down compound words, but I think this is what initially threw me: there were too many sets of double letters in the word Meerrettich.
Now, to spare myself further embarrassment in today's post, I will refrain from describing how I have been mispronouncing the word umgebung these past years.
Likewise, I am going to save my comments and thoughts about why I still tend to like the teenage movies that are being broadcast on Netflix, all of which seem to be direct copies of the typical John Hughes films from 35 years ago.
Fortunately, my sinuses are clear, so it's time to get out and enjoy the rest of the day.
see you out there
bryan
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