Now, I like me some pork. I won't even pretend like I don't eat it and that the smell of frying bacon doesn't send me straight to the kitchen. Well, Vienna is pork heaven. There is pre-seasoned pork, pork medallions, pork chops, pork sausages, a variety of bacon strips, pork ribs, sliced pork for stirfrys, pig feet, pig snout, offal and, for a mid-afternoon snack, jause - a slice of bread topped with cheese or ham.
The good news about pork is that it's somewhat easily identifiable. But the rest ...! Whoa, holy cow. You should see me in the Billa grocery store in the meat aisle standing there, and standing there, and standing there trying to figure out which is veal, which is beef and which is deer because, of course, I can't yet speak German. And in the midst of my pondering, I wonder if I remembered to bring my bag because, you see, you have to bring your own grocery bag to the store to carry your groceries home. Yep.
Buying meat is a grueling process and I'm sure people are looking at me as though I'm crazy after about 10 minutes of pacing back and forth in front of the meat cooler.
I can see them from the corner of my eye (the eye with the Torc contact lens, of course, because the other eye sometimes doesn't catch the subtle movement as well as the left eye with the Torc, which is intended for astigmatism ... just in case you wondered). And I could have sworn last week that one girl looked at me strangely and then walked to the next aisle to retrieve her friend so she too could see how lost I looked.
In the end, I snatch the old standby -- chicken -- and am on my way. Well, almost. I turn around mid-aisle, return to the shelves and shelves of pork and pluck a package to go. Why not? When in Rome ...
Alison
Tuesday, 5:49 p.m.
The good news about pork is that it's somewhat easily identifiable. But the rest ...! Whoa, holy cow. You should see me in the Billa grocery store in the meat aisle standing there, and standing there, and standing there trying to figure out which is veal, which is beef and which is deer because, of course, I can't yet speak German. And in the midst of my pondering, I wonder if I remembered to bring my bag because, you see, you have to bring your own grocery bag to the store to carry your groceries home. Yep.
Buying meat is a grueling process and I'm sure people are looking at me as though I'm crazy after about 10 minutes of pacing back and forth in front of the meat cooler.
I can see them from the corner of my eye (the eye with the Torc contact lens, of course, because the other eye sometimes doesn't catch the subtle movement as well as the left eye with the Torc, which is intended for astigmatism ... just in case you wondered). And I could have sworn last week that one girl looked at me strangely and then walked to the next aisle to retrieve her friend so she too could see how lost I looked.
In the end, I snatch the old standby -- chicken -- and am on my way. Well, almost. I turn around mid-aisle, return to the shelves and shelves of pork and pluck a package to go. Why not? When in Rome ...
Alison
Tuesday, 5:49 p.m.
No comments:
Post a Comment