Tonight is the first night of the Oktoberfest in July festival! The Catholic church has games, rides, a little biergarten and plenty of German food - all in the hopes of raising money for the upcoming year. It's a popular event in Willoughby and since it's about a block from our house, we walk down in the evenings for supper. (which sometimes consists solely of the best onion rings in the known universe)
Anyway, I was describing this to a certain Texan recently and discovered that certain foods, well...they don't really translate.
Me: "Mike and I always go to the festival for the schnitzel, but we try to get there early because the line for it is usually so long."
Alan: "What's schnitzel?"
I describe schnitzel.
Alan: "So it's like chicken fried steak?"
Me: "Uhm. Not exactly, but sure...we'll go with that."
(Ask my mother about the time she got Alan to eat his first potato pancake. With applesauce. I have never seen a man look more skeptical in my life.)