Of course, the smart and eagle-eyed Hiver already wants to object just having read the title because Döner is Turkish and not German.
Yet, I’ve never been in Turkey so I can not relate to their average Döner standard. Yes, the Döner in Cyprus were delicious and without a doubt more sophisticated than those served in Germany, but we live in Covid-19 times.
And right now, one of the things I would regale most over is a German style Döner. One of those mega-sized ones with lots of different vegetables, that darn juicy lamb meat and spicy salsa. What other sauce did you expect?
Anyone who has ever eaten one of them, even more so if eaten the day after a nice binge, knows the pleasure they can bring. It isn’t that I’m enjoying some drinks now or that I was on a bender last night, oh no. It’s just that having entered week 357 of corona lockdown - I stopped counting and probably lost count before that already - life is rather limited and the virus conditions, the world, and its restrictions have changed the level of desire, created a whole new set of much simpler, much more basic #coronawants.
Cravings.
Cravings for classic staples.
Staples like a... bratwurst.
Maybe if you’re British I may just have offended you by not opting for Bangers & Mash, but honestly nothing beats the simplicity and that crunchy bite of a good bratwurst. As good the day after, cold straight from the fridge as served straight out of the pan.
Preferably with some mustard. Oh no, not any of those sophisticated flavored fancy mustards y’all have been eating for a decade already, relegating the Moutarde de Dijon to some lost corner on the store shelves. The one which makes you breath out of your nose like a dragon, yes that mustard.
Not that I ever encountered a dragon and saw it breathe though. Or saw a dragon at all. Except for in The Elder Scrolls.
Being in week 896 of the corona lockdown already, I wasn’t going to let those #coronawants cravings linger any further.
With no chance for a decent Döner locally, I ventured out for a wurst. I say ventured but what I truly mean is I opened the local food delivery app and started my search. With my health not yet at a level that allows me to stand in line for 3 hours before getting into the local supermarket, my options were limited to 55 minutes of estimated preparation and delivery time combined.
Obviously, that would exclude both branches of a posh wannabe German bistro but there was no way I would pay $10 or more for a wurst anyway. Yes, Manila can rock your socks with some of the prices in so-called higher end locations.
And thus started my search. One thing was sure, I wasn’t going to order wurst from that vegan restaurant. Oh no, those attempts at vegan are long over and, besides, these are covid-19 times and come with specific cravings. After 1,288 weeks in quarantine you probably would care about some plant-based sausage either and want but the real thing.
Wurst or nothing.
Some things in life are indeed that simple.
Finally, after almost three hours of browsing burger joints and steakhouses and whatnots, I had ordered. I may as well have considered queuing at the supermarket, or going to the nearby “wet market” for a local longanisa sausage, but decisions had been made.
It meant a downgrade to a Hungarian sausage as apparently far and wide within the radius of 55 minutes preparation and delivery time included no simple bratwurst was to be found. When it arrived I even discovered it was precut, in long slices, already and fried after cutting too.
There went my crunch.
Luckily, I never set out to order my last meal. Not even a favorite meal. No, all I wanted was that guilty pleasure a delicious sausage can deliver.
It wasn’t the meal I would kill for but who knew how amazing a Hungarian sausage tastes after 1,756 weeks in corona lockdown? I bet you can barely imagine how awesome it was.
Sometimes all one needs is... a wurst.
Images via Unsplash