As the doors opened at 5:30 sharp, we were met by a tall and lovely Mädchen who invited us inside. “Welcome to Walzwerk. This way.” The walls were covered with East German memorabilia, peppered with some pieces of propaganda. She led us to a back room, separated from the main hall by a curtain. “Is this the interrogation room?” I quipped. “Das ist nicht funny!” We were seated in small metal chairs and treated to more GDR propaganda.

We looked over the offerings for our family-style meal and made a couple of selections.

“You vill haf the fegetarian Schnitzel, ja?” “Umm, we were thinking maybe we’d have more meat dishes.” “You should haf the fegetarian Schnitzel!” “But we’re not vege-” “FEGETARIAN SCHNITZEL!”

My friend whispered in my ear, “We should probably listen to her.”

“Very well, then, we’ll have the vegetarian Schnitzel.”

Her demeanor sweetened as she took the menu. She even cracked a smile. “And to trink?”

“Umm…” “You should try the Kostritzer.” “The Schwarzbier?” “Yes. KOSTRITZER!” When a tall, hot German gently nudges you toward something, you don’t protest. “Ok. Ja. Kostritzer, bitte.” I cowered a bit when the rest of the party ordered other things like Radeberger and Weltenburg, but she was fine with it.

The beers started to flow, and we all started to enjoy the kitschy, homey East German ambiance more and more. The funky music, the hilarious pre-fall-of-the-wall album covers on the wall… It certainly wasn’t chi-chi, but it was a great place to sit with a big group of friends and enjoy some tasty beers.

Then the food started to arrive. House-smoked salmon, beet salad, herring salad, and of course, potato pancakes. By the time we’d tried a bit of each, we were full.

“More beer?” We were asked. Bring it on. There was more food and beer on the table than I could’ve imagined, and we hadn’t even reached the main course yet.

When the mains did arrive, they were beautiful. Giant dish upon giant dish of Jagerchnitzel, with loads of delicious Spatzle. Ginormous bowls of mashed potatoes. A platter of Bratwurst and Sauerkraut so big, I felt like I was Audrey in that German scene in National Lampoon’s European Vacation. (But where was Uncle Fritz?) We gorged and shared and ordered more beers. And then the vegetarian Schnitzel arrived. We gave it a collective shrug but dug in anyway. “Mein Gott, das ist gut!” we would’ve exclaimed had we known any German.

Our pushy purveyor had not steered us wrong. I never would’ve imagined an assortment of fried vegetables could be so tasty, but the cooks at Walzwerk had scored a coup. Even my most hardcore carnivorous friends were impressed.

We couldn’t eat another bite. But by god, it was my birthday, so we had to order dessert. We were curious about the “Kalter Hund” aka “Cold Dog.” We joked about it being an uncookd wiener. Or maybe a frozen Ball Park frank. It came out, and it was layers of butter cookies, laid into dark, sweet chocolate, refrigerated in a long mold to form a cake-like dessert. And it was delicious. Despite our being dangerously close to popping, we scarfed down every last crumb.

I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to hug the table (ok, and maybe the waitress, too) and have more beer and enjoy the warmth in my tummy and the buzz in my head.

But all good things come to an end, just like this lengthy story.