Ze Germans vs Ze RussiansMarch 10, 2011 / bynatalie / Categories : Uncategorized
I love food. I love it so much, that I spend most of my time talking about it… and the rest of my time thinking about it. I imagine that my thoughts regarding food, must amount to boys thoughts about chests…of the female variety.
Nash loves food as much as I do. How he manages to find time to think about chests as well (he’s a guy??) is something I find quite impressive.
We spend a LOT of time talking about food, eating food, preparing food… In fact, I can bring food into pretty much any conversation. “Funerals? Why yes, they do have good little sandwiches. Speaking of which…how many is too many? Crying makes me hungry.” See?
So naturally, whenever the subject of Ramfest came up- and it came up often…especially in the weeks leading up to last weekend- the subject got round to food. Specifically, what Nash called the “russians”.
I didn’t go to last years Ramfest, but I have heard a LOT about it from Nash and Stormin. I heard about the river, the bands, and… The Russians. “Last year, Stormin and I ate no less than SEVEN russians EACH! We kept going back to the dude at the russian stand and he thought we were nuts!”
Aaaah…what a story. The only part of this story that I have never liked, is the part about the “russians”. I was quite disappointed, that someone with a palate so similar to mine, could lower his standards so far as to consume SEVEN russians.
Russians bring back (bad) memories of high school. Of boys standing around the quad, with deep fried, thick, pink polony-looking sausages covered in tomato, mayo and bbq sauce. Dripping down their hands and onto their shoes. I actually banned my high school boyfriend from eating them cause I just couldn’t stand the smell! After ingesting a mere one, the ingestor (why yes, I did make that word up, thank you for asking) reeks of russia for a good few hours!
The mysterious part about Nash’s russian fixation (no reference to Rick’s please) was how a sophisticated little Southern Suburs boy would even have known what a russian was?? I highly doubt the mom’s at SACS were handing their “little gentlemen” R7 in the mornings for their lunch time treat of deep-fried pink processed meat?
It all cleared up for me, when finally, not long after our arrival at Ramfest Nash pointed to a food stall with great excitement and said “There! That’s the russians guy!”
Standing there, in all his glory, was a man selling sweet, tender, delicious-looking… German Bockwursts.
The differences between a Russian and a Bockwurst are few, but they are big. Here’s a breakdown:
The Bockwurst vs The Russian
|100% pure German Engineering|
|No sir, that’s not heartburn, it is a heart attack|
Bockwursts are made by genuine German butchers who wear butcher hats and are 6 foot tall in authentic butcheries in Germany
Russians are made in Pretoria
Bockwursts are made from delicious fat little porks that roam free and are seasoned with rainbows
Russians are made from dead drug dealers
Bockwursts cost R25 each
Russians cost R7 and…and that includes chips
Bockwursts give you a feeling of pleasure and satisfaction in your belly
Russians give you a feeling of heartburn
Bockwursts are served with sauerkraut, red cabbage and soft rolls
Russians are served with cholesterol and russian breath
After laughing about the whole incident and having about two (to four) Bockwursts each…we were lazing about on the lawn in front of the German’s stand when Nash said “You can tell these guys are Russian…look at their teeth.” upon which I replied, “Yes, they are obviously Russian. Except of course that they are…German.”