Don't fear the Leberkäse

Last night involved dinner with Peter and Elisabeth at Peter's place. Peter was cooking, and if history is any indication, when Peter cooks, large quantities of food are usually involved.

When we got there, a loaf of chocolate cake was sitting on the stove, all frosted.

"We burned it," Peter informed me. So much for dessert. Why frost a burned cake, though? Maybe it's like putting make up on a dead person before you bury it. Must be a Bavarian thing.

All was not lost, though. Dinner was cooking in the oven. Peter had purchased a pan of Leberkäse (lee - burr - kess - ah) from the butcher that day. Leberkäse is a pinkish brown goop they pour into a loaf pan, which you then bring home and bake. Apparently freshness is everything with Leberkäse, which set off warning bells in my head since nothing I usually eat is even remotely that perishable. My comfort level wasn't increased when no one could explain to me what was in it.

The mystery meat loaf emerged from the oven almost looking like a dark pound cake. It didn't smell bad, but I was pretty hungry at the time, so decaying human flesh would probably smell good too. Peter brought the Leberkäse out to us all sliced up, just like meatloaf. Inside the brownish shell the meat was pinkish and somewhat spongy looking.

"It's a giant weenie," I said.
"What is 'weenie'" asked Peter.
"A hot dog. It's a giant hot dog. Or, a giant hot dog loaf."

Sure enough, you eat it with mustard, and large German style pretzels. It tasted like a really good quality weenie. All it needed was a giant bun. I was told Leberkäse is a traditional Bavarian dish, but I'm pretty sure hot dogs are an American thing. So maybe we don't make them gigantic and slice them up. I guess that's the local take on weenies.
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