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At Minden we stop to lunch. The whole train pushes and jostles into the refreshment-room, and, in ten galloping minutes, we devour three filthy plats; a nauseous potage, a terrible dish of sickly veal, and a ragged Braten. Then a rush and tumble off again. The day rolls past, dustily, samely, wearily. There have been flying thunder-storms lightning-flashes past the windows.
For instance, you will be served with an excellent paste at a French restaurant, but if you want it at its best you will get it at an Italian restaurant. On the other hand if you desire a delicate entree you will get the best at a French restaurant. For instance, one would not ask for sauer braten anywhere except at a German restaurant.
And our “Licht Braten?” Herr Sorgenpfennig rubs his short, fat hands, and his round eyes twinkle again, as he tells his little cluster of “Herren Gesellen” that there will be a feast, a sumptuous abendbrod, to inaugurate the commencement of candle-light. The “Licht Braten,” as this entertainment is called, is one of the old customs of Hamburg now falling into disuse.
We asked for the recipe that they considered the very best in the restaurant, and Hirsch, with a shrug of his shoulders, said: "Oh, we have so many fine dishes." We finally got him to select the one prized above all others and this is what Chef Scheiler gave us: German Sauer Braten
'Lisbeth, Gretchen... what was that lovely German name... hild... Brunhilde... Talk had begun again. Miriam hoped they had not noticed her. Her "Braten" shot up the lift. "Lauter Unsinn!" announced Clara. "We've all got to do our hair in clash... clashishsher Knoten, Hendy, all of us," said Jimmie judicially, sitting forward with her plump hands clasped on the table.
They made their way back to the street through a long low roomful of men drinking at little tables. Heavy clouds of smoke hung and moved in the air and mingled with the steady odour of German food, braten, onion and butter-sodden, beer and rich sour bread.
You dip your potato in the butter, and while you thus soften the deep-sea saltness of your herring, the rough flavour of the latter relishes and overcomes the unctuous dressing of your potato. I swear to you it is delicious! But where is our “braten,” the “roast,” in fact? Oh, thou unhappy Peter!
Cut up one or two tomatoes and pour some soup stock over all, and a dash of white wine. Cover closely and stew very slowly for three or four hours, turning the meat now and then; in doing so do not pierce with the fork, as this will allow the juice to escape. Do not add any water. Make enough potato pancakes to serve one or two to each person with "Wiener Braten." Wipe steak with a damp cloth.
Everybody remarked the majesty of Jos and the knowing way in which he sipped, or rather sucked, the Johannisberger, which he ordered for dinner. The little boy, too, we observed, had a famous appetite, and consumed schinken, and braten, and kartoffeln, and cranberry jam, and salad, and pudding, and roast fowls, and sweetmeats, with a gallantry that did honour to his nation.
I see thee still, reeking over the glowing forge fire, cooking savoury sausages thou art forbidden to taste! Those burning tears! those mad distortions of limb and feature! God pity thee, Peter, but it was not to be! Those savoury sausages are our “braten,” and they smack wonderfully after the herrings.
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