I Lechner Your Style

It was sushi time. That time when nothing but sushi is going to cure your deep-down hunger. So Matt and I were driving out to Kaneyama (winner of the Iron Fish battle), and we happened upon Rudi Lechners German restaurant. "We've gotta go there sometime," I said to Matt.

He looked at me, said OK, did a U-turn and pulled it in.

"So, you don't want sushi?" I asked.

"Let's be spontaneous." This has gotten us into trouble in the past, but it was worth a try.

We walked in and got a table immediately. And up front.

What is up front in a restaurant, you might be asking? There was a stage and a band. And we were front and center. The band was a two-piece combo that was comprised of a guy singing and playing the trumpet (a professor at Sam Houston) and a woman on a squeezebox... er... accordion. She must be very good because she has a PhD in accordion performance from the University of Houston. (Have you ever heard of such a thing?) Immediately in front of our table were several older couples dancing to the music. It was hilarious... they were very, very old people, leaning on each other for support while they swayed to the mellow tones of the accordion.

I went to Germany a few years ago, and aside from the two-piece combo, this place was authentic. Given that there was a band, it was actually much closer to restaurants at home in Wisconsin. It was dark, it smelled like vinegar, and they were wearing derndels and leiderholsens. Yes, even the Hispanic busboys. Which, is perhaps, a whole other topic. In short, I felt like I could have been in Dresden or Oconomowoc.

When we sat down, there wasn't much talking to be had, as it seemed rude (or is that Rudi?) as we were right in front of the band. They played their polkas and traditional songs. After a few minutes, I got a little heady and started singing along: "You can have her, I don't want her, She's too fat for me, She's too fat for me, oooohhh she's too fat for me...".

A look of horror came over Matt's face. "How do you know these words?" he yelled over the accordion. "Whaaat?" "HOW DO YOU KNOW THESE WORDS?" "EVERYONE IN WISCONSIN DOES.... Ooooh, you can have her...". I continued belting it out at the top of my lungs. When in Rome... or Munich... or Houston. I think the band appreciated the audience participation, and since we were close enough to be part of the show, I figured, why not lend my expertise.

The bread that they brought to the table was heavenly. It's a zucchini sweet bread that I gobbled up between numbers. In fact, it was so good, I actually asked for seconds. We decided to go all out, so our appetizer was the sausage plate, complete with the sauerkraut that was sweet and tart, just like it should be. The sausages were very meaty, long, skinny wieners.

"Roll out the barrel, roll out the barrel of fun... crash boom tararrel..." I bellow as Matt shakes his head as his beer arrives. I think the beer was a relief the old boy. He seemed uncomfortable with my singing. Perhaps he's not used to hearing golden vocal chords at work? He got the large beer. Despite my warnings against getting the biggest one possible, he didn't listen. It was the stein fit for Hagrid and his kin. He literally had to use two hands while drinking and his face completely disappeared behind the mug. It must have been the equivalent of a six pack.

"Adelweiss, adelweiss, you look happy to me... to me..." Ah, finally our food. Matt's weiner schnitzel was very good. Soft (so soft you can cut it with a fork, if you know what I mean), steaming hot, and a hint of lemon to bring out the meat's flavor. The breading was crispy, which is a relief because it's just gross when it gets soggy. My goulash was excellent. The paprika was the perfect amount to keep it flavorful, yet not too spicy. The meat had been stewed long enough to allow it to fall apart on the fork. I loved the spaetzle. It was pillowy and buttery, just the way these dumplings should be.

By the end of the dinner, Matt and I made several decisions. First, we would go back on the buffet night. The idea of trying a lot of everything is amazing. Second, we decided I would drive. Third, we decided not to sit so close next time. Apparently my belting out traditional German songs was embarrassing for Matt. Well, that was actually something he decided and I didn't agree to. Fourth, being spontaneous is sometimes a good thing and we're glad we tried it.

In short, Rudi Lechners is a must-go restaurant with a fun atmosphere and great food.

The Queso of the Six Car Pileup

I was going to have dinner with my sister and some friends the other night. I was driving west on I-10 at 6:30 PM. Most of us Houstonians know that driving I10 is always a stupid idea, therefore I apologize to those of you who were on I10 at that time for legitimate reasons. Meaning, you were taking the only route home you had.

Suddenly, the cars in front of me stopped short. About three of them. And I slammed on the brakes (saw the smoke from the skid), and swerved into the right lane. I thought, "Whew, I made it," as I heard cars behind me piling up.

But then I was hit from behind, a la domino effect. The car that hit me pulled around, side-swiped me (taking off my side-view mirror), and took off. I pulled over to the side of the road, and started a momentary panic.

There was white stuff everywhere. For a moment, I thought, what the hell? Then I realized, the queso I was bringing to the party exploded everywhere due to the force of impact. When I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. In the tape deck (yes, my car is older, back off), under the buttons of the radio, in the defrost vents, in the air vents, in the stick shift, on me, on the bar that moves the seat back and forth, in the rear view mirror, on the seat... essentially, it was in every conceivable place.

I got out, and discussed the situation with the three other drivers involved... two had fled the scene. I asked, does anyone have tissue or paper towel? They all looked at me, eye brows raise to ask, "Um... why?" Hurriedly I explained, "I had some queso in my front seat and it's all over." Someone said sure and got me her half-roll of paper towel. No one said much else.

That half roll was not going to be enough. But it was enough to get the glob off of my windshield. It took the entire half roll to get that part.

While we waited for the police to arrive, I picked up my side view mirror and called the insurance company. While detailing the damage, I said:

"There's also some damage to the inside to consider. I had some queso in the front seat and it's everywhere."

"I'm sorry can you say that again?"

"There's queso, cheese."

"I still don't think I'm getting it. Can you get in your car and say it again?"

"I am in my car and you heard me... there's cheese everywhere. I was going to a dinner at my sister's house."

"Cheese. Everywhere. Got it."

Awkwar silence. Then typing. I can hear her thinking... "Cheese. Ok. Cheese."

Finally the other accident participants came over to see my car. They started with a giant belly laugh. "We thought maybe you hit your head. You do have queso everywhere, don't you?"

I said, "I have a bag of Fritos if you want some."

When all was said and done, I went home where Matt had the camera waiting to take snapshots of the queso for insurance purposes. Somehow, I know these will come back to haunt me at some surprise birthday party for a number divisible by 10.

I didn't want to leave the cheese in the car uncleaned, as I wasn't going to drive with schmear of dairy all over the windshield and grease on the stick shift. I didn't think it safe (although I am driving my white trash car without a side-view mirror currently, safe is sometimes relative). Besides, it's Texas. And it's hot as blazed. I was worried the cheese might actually...well...burn.

I have given it careful reflection. Retribution is hell. And this was a case of retribution. I was passing this queso off as my own. I opened a jar, put it in a nice dish, and planed to call it my own. This was wrong. I see that and accept that. And as a result, I am paying for my lies, half-truths, and falsehoods by having to smell that sickening cheese smell every time I open my car door. It's worse when the car's been sitting in the sun all day. There's booger-like globs that appear when I push the radio button or open the glove box. Occasionally, I find a crusted tomato or pepper that I need to scrape off with my thumb nail. I think: ah retribution.