Rote Kastanienblüte

That's red chestnut blossom. I thought it worked as a little sequel to yesterday's Blip.

I should tell you about what-we-did-on-Sunday but I shan't, I shall tell you about yesterday evening and The Worst Restaurant In Wiesbaden.

We were looking for somewhere to eat last night, somewhere that wasn't that far away and where we could park (my ankle had started to play up and was a bit more swollen and sore). So we picked the Schleifmühle Bacchus in Aarstrasse. We didn't book, we just turned up on spec and hoped.

We were quite early, around 7 or so, and the place was full. Really. Every table was fully occupied. However, they had an auxiliary room. Which, although it was downstairs and next to the toilets, was OK. Even if the decor was carbon-dated from the big book of Greek Restaurant Decorating Clichés.

The menu looked quite good and we ordered. Could we possibly have lamb instead of pork for the kebabs? Not a problem, said the very nice waiter. And then we prepared to wait. Because, as I said, it was full upstairs and there were 2 other groups in the room we were in.

It was a surprise therefore when our food arrived 5 minutes later.

I will mention something positive. The meat was actually ok.

But. What I didn't find particularly appetising was the raw garlic that had been crushed over it. It's not a flavour I imagine many people would enjoy. So that got scraped off.

Then there were the "oven baked potato wedges" which were, in essence, par boiled potato wedges who passed the oven on the way to our table. They were worse than bland. And to use a great German word "matschig". Say that out loud and tell me it sounds pleasant.

Moving on, there was the rice and "fresh" vegetables.

Do you live in a part of the world where "fresh" peas are grey? If so, then we almost ate peas from where you live. It was so obviously mixed veg from a tin. Honking.

I shall spare you the details of the "salad". I shall only say, it wasn't a sophisticated dish but it was entirely up to the standard of everything else we had ordered.

So we attempted to do something very un-German and complained.

I know, I know.

I know that complaining about anything service-related in Germany just doesn't work. And complaining in a restaurant is even more futile.

It's almost like we spoke and our observation that, say, the vegetables were not fresh was translated into the most personal and vicious insult the Poor Waiter had ever heard.

And then the Coup de Grâce - the bill. Nothing taken off but 10 Euros added for changing from 4 chunks of pork to 4 chunks of lamb.

We were there twice as the Germans say; for the first and last time. I hope I have saved you all from making the same mistake.