As an exchange student 20-some-odd years ago, I was horrified to discover Germans living up to their stereotype as sausage eaters. Every festival, party and gathering was accompanied by at least a small barbecue with several examples of seasoned pork parts stuffed into (artificial and real) intestines. Once over my shock, it became a guilty pleasure.

Early in our relationship and decades later, Sabine introduced me to the raw bratwurst. I was used to the pre-cooked variety we get in the states or at all those festivalsin Germany, so I was skeptical of this soft, pink tube. Would the meat in the center get cooked? After eating them nearly daily while Sabine she was pregnant with Martha, I realized she was on to something. A little while later while visting her parents in Kassel she introduced me to the coarsely ground bratwurst, which sounds horrible but tastes much better than its finely ground sister -- imagine chunks of meat rather than ground ... lips and, well, you know.

Slowly I was becoming a bratwurst snob. Gradually I began to turn my nose up at the stale, pre-cooked bulk sausages offered at massive parties and concerts, especially considering their cardboard texture and non-taste. I started to scope out the best stands at the Christmas Market. And I was completely disappointed with Berlin's gastronomic contribution to the world, the Currywurst. This is essentially a bratwurst sliced up, buried in ketchup with a bit of curry powder added on top (see above). It's OK on if you pick the right place and are hungry but it can't beat a good flame-broiled brat.

And now we've discovered the ultimate. The best in Berlin. These babies are to be had every Thursday at the Kollwitzplatz organic food market, sold out of a red tent. They're made by the lady peddling pig products next door and come from her own farm of Bentheimer pigs, an heirloom (as the Americans would say) breed that has been ignored because the meat is too fatty. They seem coarse to me and I haven't a clue what seasonings she's using, but she's doing it right.

I bought 30 for Martha's 6th birthday and they hardly lasted. I could have gotten rid of 50 -- and there weren't even 50 people there. Unfortunately they're not fresh (read: uncooked) because she would have to sell them within two days, but they're really good. And Conny, who makes them, is nice.

So it's a stereotype I like.