Along with the much more numerous and visible Irish, Italians, French, Spanish, African-American, and Vietnamese groups, New Orleans has a sizeable German population. A few months ago I learned that ALL of my father's ancestors emigrated not just from Germany to Indiana (which I already knew) but came through the port of New Orleans, and spent anywhere from six months to a couple of years here before continuing their journey up the Mississippi and Ohio rivers.
Feeling a bit homesick (the area I grew up in is about 90% German and Swiss), I headed over to the Deutsches Haus on South Galvez street tonight for some decent bratwurst and hot potato salad. (After being served sauerkraut nearly every Thursday for six years at St. Mary's grade school, I can't stand the stuff.)
The music is the Swabian German folk song "Muss I Denn," as sung by the great Marlene Dietrich.
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Redstocking Grandma
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R
Caracalla--Ve vill, ve vill...patience, mein schatz.
John--Homemade pear schnapps proved my father's undoing one night in a little town near Frankfurt. He denies it, but
I have pictures of him in a giant foam Oktoberfest hat, dancing to ABBA and playing air guitar to Cat Stevens. Normally he's a pretty quiet drunk; shocked the hell out of me and Mom.
Brian--If you had been there last night, I would have given it to you. It was so noisy that the man in lederhosen didn't hear me say, "Nein, danke," and slapped a big ol' helping of the vile stuff on my tray.
Prost und Ade