Austrian Pancake Fit for an Emperor
By Sharon Hudgins
Many years ago, when I was living in Germany, my parents came to visit from America. After my husband and I picked them up at the Frankfurt airport, we took them on a road trip along Germany’s meandering Mosel River. On the first day, we stopped for dinner in the picturesque town of Cochem. Although it was early in the tourist season, the streets, shops, and restaurants were already very crowded. By the time we finally found a parking place and somewhere to eat, the evening was late and all of us were tired and hungry.
The overworked waitress was gracious and friendly, despite having spent the whole day serving demanding tourists. And she didn’t even bat an eye when my father requested coffee with his dinner, American-style.
After we finished the main course, my father—whom dessert was the high point of any meal—wanted something sweet. The waitress brought him a separate menu showing several ice-cream extravaganzas, but he wasn’t interested in those. I asked if there were any Torten or Kuchen available, but the waitress shook her head and pointed to the clock. The time was late, we were the last customers on a busy Saturday night, and long ago the restaurant had run out of any other desserts.
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