Sentimental and chivalrous may not be the first two words you think of when you hear the word Nuremberg.
But you may change your mind once you hear about their sausages.
Smaller than the average German wurst, in both length and girth, the Nuremberg sausage often arrives on heart shaped metal platters, in an uncertain gesture of romance. They come this size, so the legend says, because during the medieval plagues it was too dangerous for people to leave their homes in order to go in search of food (this also, incidentally, was the time when people drank beer instead of water (including children) because it was deemed to be the healthiest fluid around.)
One day, some canny sausage-maker stumbled upon the Nuremberg style and shape, so slim it could slot right through the keyholes of the plague infested doors. He threw some marjoram in with the pork, and behold, the Nuremberg sausage was born.
Today, it’s served boiled white with an onion and vinegar sauce or rost above open flames accompanied by salted pretzels and sauerkraut.
Such love have the citizens of Nuremberg for their underendowed sausage that they saught a protected EU status for both the recipe and the result.
Accordingly, under the power of European laws, a Nuremberg sausage is only a Nuremberg sausage when produced (and eaten?) in Nuremberg.
Tourists eat them with potato salad and horse radish, locals feast on Drei im Weggler: “three in a bun.”
So, now you know. If you really love someone, send them a sausage.
If you really love a sausage, send it to the EU.
Heads Up & Disclosure
I travelled to Nuremberg through the #mustlovefestivals project, supported by the Nuremberg Tourist Board. As ever, as always, I write whatever I like here on the blog. I also ate all the sausages. No outsourcing whatsoever, no sir.
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