Tag Archives: Food

My German Wife Makes A Can of “Hot Pot” Soup and Leaves Me A Hilarious Note About It

Hot Pot Glass Noodle Soup German Canned

Within this can resides enough explosive power to detonate your colon like a pink sock full of gunpowder.

I guess Hot Pot soup originally comes from China, but they sell the hell out of it here in Germany. And let me tell you, it absolutely lives up to its name; it is hot, spicy, and, well… it fits perfectly inside the average cooking pot. But you know how my German wife and I like to pimp our pizzas on Sunday nights? Well, we also like to pimp our soups.

We add chili peppers, mushrooms, broccoli, onions, Brussels sprouts, hamsters, gerbils — just whatever the hell we have laying around the house — and throw them all together with a can of soup to make a flavor explosion violent enough to not only damage our mouths, but destroy them entirely. And the gastrointestinal effects? Oh, they confound they senses. Have you ever passed gas so fiery-hot it seared the very lining of your anus? Have you ever generated flatulence so potent it made you see stars? We have, and we do so every time we pimp a can of Hot Pot.

So the other day, my wife noticed the mushrooms in our refrigerator were about to go bad. She sliced them up — along with some random greens, an entire onion, and several handfuls of crushed red chili peppers — and tossed them into a boiling crucible of Hot Pot soup. I was off at my German language class, so she ate a bowl and left the rest for me, along with this fantastic little note:

hilarious note from wife to husband

To clarify, the note reads: “Hi sweets, I hope you had a good class. I made soup for us — hot pot and I think it’ll burn our little butt hole! Yours more than mine! :) I love you!”

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Denglish 96: My German Wife Knows How to Pimp An American Pizza

funny pizza pimp

“Take the flavor. TAKE IT.” — Photo by tacit requiem (http://www.flickr.com/photos/tacitrequiem/)

If you are familiar with our blog, you know my German wife and I like to make pizzas on Sunday nights. But we don’t actually make pizzas, we ‘pimp‘ them: We buy cheap-as-balls frozen pizzas, then add all kinds of crazy shit to make them taste fantastic.

Now, The Wife and I have different methods for pimping our pizzas. I like to go berserk and add like a pound of shredded cheese and enough salami to choke a rhino. My wife likes to add extra tomato sauce and toss a few delicate handfuls of spinach on top. She also has differing opinions of cooking methods. Namely, she prefers to leave the pizza in the oven for a mere 15 minutes, and she likes to place it on the center rack, specifically.

She is so confident in her pimping methods, she likes to remind me of their merits each and every time we stick a pizza in the oven. This is why she concluded her latest affirmation with the line:

THE WIFE: “…and remember, last time, it turned out absolutely phenomenom.”

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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Denglish 94: My German Wife Explains the Optimal Weather Conditions for Seasonal Allergy Attacks

Funny sneezing fit from seasonal pollen allergies

“It’s the middle of December. Why am I sneezing? This should not be haaAAHHHCHOOO!” — Photo by Adam Wise (http://www.flickr.com/photos/adammichaelwise/)

If you’ve been following this blog for some time, you know I’ve got some vicious pollen allergies. Allergy attacks and sneezing fits are to be expected in the spring months, especially when you are living in a foreign country like Germany, with its totally alien and unnaturally aggressive pollen spores. (I like to picture them as little dirndl-wearing, axe-wielding spike balls.)

What are not expected, are allergy attacks in the middle of winter. The rain and cold should keep the pollen count down, right? I mean, I don’t even have a cold right now, and yet I’m sneezing like I just snorted a fruit fly up my nose. (That totally happened to me once.) Maybe it’s the cold in the air. Maybe it’s the ankle-deep layer of dust beneath our bed, which gathered because I haven’t swept in months and I am a profoundly lazy man. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s raining right now, I am sneezing and my German wife had this to day about it:

THE WIFE: “That is odd. Allergies usually happen when it is dry as a fart.”*

*My wife later informed me, “Yes, that word comes from Northern Germany. It is ‘furztrocke,’ meaning ‘fart-dry.’ “

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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Denglish 93: My German Wife Struggles to Organize A Traditional Swiss Raclette Dinner in America

Swiss raclette cheese being melted and scraped

Melted Swiss Cheese: so good you’ll want to rub it all over your nipples. — Photo by Yusuke Kawasaki (http://www.flickr.com/photos/u-suke/)

Back when we lived together in the States, my wife attempted to plan a “raclette” dinner party at our house. Raclette itself is a semi-hard cheese from Switzerland typically used for melting. (Let’s pause for a second here and appreciate the fact that ‘semi-hard’ is still funny to me because I have not matured one single day since I was 12 years old.)

A traditional Swiss raclette dinner evening with table-top grill

“Bless this meal and the inevitable heart failure it causes.” — Photo by Vasile Cotovanu (http://www.flickr.com/photos/vasile23/)

The word raclette also applies to meals in which small pans, known as coupelles, are filled with meats and vegetables, covered with slices of Swiss cheese, and then placed beneath a table-top grill to melt. After the cheese has completely melted, dinner guests withdraw the coupelles and eat the contents. Then their heads explode because their brains cannot process such an overwhelming rush of deliciousness. Seriously, eating raclette is like having an orgasm in your entire head. (I call it a skullgasm.)

So, what I’m saying is, raclette dinners are awesome. Trying to organize a raclette dinner with all of your busy friends — most of whom have kidsis not. For my German wife, trying to get a bunch of Americans under one roof was like herding cats. Some of our guests had previous commitments to attend to. Some of them forgot what ‘R.S.V.P.’ meant (or actively disregarded it), and others were just too busy wiping baby bottoms to show up. But in the end, my wife managed to organize an awesome dinner, and when it was all over, she collapsed on the couch and sighed…

THE WIFE: “It is always so difficult bringing everybody under one hat!”*

*She later clarified: “That was a Denglish saying! In German we say: ‘Es ist schwierig, alles unter einen Hut zu bringen.’ “

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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The 2013 Oktoberfest in Hannover, Germany – As Experienced by An American Expat and His German Wife

Hannover Oktoberfest Ride 2013

“How do you say, ‘Stop the ride, I’m gonna hurl’ in German?” — Photo by Kai Nehm (http://www.flickr.com/photos/trau_kainehm/)

You know us: I am an American expat, my wife is a wacky German, and together we live in Hannover, Germany. Once again, we ventured to the Hannover Oktoberfest at the Schützenplatz fair grounds. This year, we rode all the rides, listened to all the music, ate all the food and drank all the beer. ALL OF IT. We also filmed the entire thing, so you can experience it with us! Check out the video below:

WARNING: Video contains a few F-bombs and some other swear words. (And screaming. Lots of screaming. From me, a full-grown man.)

Would you like to see another one of our videos? Check out our trip to the “Hannover Adventure Zoo.”

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Denglish 89: How My German Wife Improves Our Sunday Night Frozen Pizzas

domo pizza funny

“My entire life has been prelude to this moment.” — Photo by Jeff Kramer (http://www.flickr.com/photos/jeffk/)

The Wife and I are in the habit of making pizzas on Sundays. We do this to combat the stress and depression of knowing the weekend is at an end, and we must both face the reality that tomorrow is another soul-crushing Monday. Sunday nights are almost worse than Monday mornings, because at least with Monday mornings you know the fun has died. You’re over it, and you’ve moved on with your life. But Sunday nights? Oh, those are just the beginning of the end.

Now, I’m an American male, so I try to be as tough as humanly possible. When I cut my finger dicing onions, I usually manage not to hurl at the sight of my own blood. When I slam my finger in a car door, I walk it off (generally around the corner and out of sight, where I can sob like a little bitch). So, being the tough-as-nails American manly man that I am, trust me when I say I don’t cry often. But when I do? Oh, it’s Sunday night.

But you know what helps? Pizza. You’d be surprised at the effectiveness of pizza to combat the Sunday night blues. It gives you something to look forward to, and — let’s be honest — it tastes like sexy heaven. Like an angel’s underpants. And you don’t even have to make a pizza from scratch for it to be awesome; The Wife and I just buy those cheap-ass, nasty-ass frozen sumbitches from the supermarket. (Because we’re just classy like that.) But you know what we do to our pizzas before we cook them? We dress ‘em up like handsome gentlemen.

Extra tomato sauce. Extra pepperoni. Extra cheese. Half an onion. Chili peppers. Spinach. Ham. Whatever the hell we’ve got laying around the house. (Pretzels. Old sneakers. The dog. We throw all that shit on there.) But there really isn’t a very good expression for this activity. You can “dress up” your pizza, “add toppings” or “make it awesomer,” but nothing has caught on in our household quite like the expression my wife used the other night as I was walking out of the kitchen:

THE WIFE: “Okay, you go to the bathroom while I pimp our pizza.”

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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Denglish 76: My German Wife Appreciates Complimentary Swag

Back in early 2012, one of my bosses took a trip to Disneyland with his family. When he returned, he gave each employee a giant coffee mug painted in the likeness of a Disney character. He had Tigger from Winnie the Pooh, the Chesire Cat from Alice in Wonderland and Goofy from every Disney cartoon requiring a functionally retarded dog to fall down and say “Ah-hyuck!”

I, however, received Mike Wazowski from Monsters, Inc. I loved it! The giant eyeball was just my kind of creepy, and I liked its sickly shade of green. I liked it so much, in fact, I took it home so I could show it to my wife. “Isn’t this cool?” I exclaimed. “Look at the giant eye and sharp teeth! It’s the perfect mug for me, don’t you think?” To which she replied…

THE WIFE: “I like for-free shit.”

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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