The Side Effects of Endorphins

Lecker”, the BBQ joint sits at the intersection of where three once three sleepy towns meet. It used to be a quiet tranquil suburb on the east side of Seattle. It is still pretty quiet as everything else has grown up around here. Amongst the sprawl of suburbia sits a little restaurant that is a throwback to older days. It can be argued we don’t eat for the memories rather for that which tastes good. That is a discussion for another day. And that is why Der Mann opened up this currywurst restaurant. He had worked as a tractor mechanic for many years and eventually went into the field of airplane manufacturing. Boeing was happy to have him and his German ingenuity and enthusiasm. 

Schiller, while educated in German was of African descent. His family migrated to Germany from Senegal soon after the Great War ended. It was a curious time moving from one bad situation to one that was even worse. It is rather unclear what prompted his move to The United States and more specifically the Pacific Northwest. But that is where he landed, and he made the best of the opportunities handed to him. By the year 1987, he had enough of working for somebody else. He had a nice pension coming to him, so his lower-level needs were fulfilled. He sat with his wife on a quiet picnic bench, on a picture-perfectautumn afternoon. He explained his plan to open a restaurant on the east side. He saw the rapid growth of technology with firms moving to the Seattle area. There was a plot of land that seemed to have little value to anybody, except for the murky vision of his dream. 

And that murky vision became his restaurant. It sat where many major roads on the east side converged yet was extremely difficult to find. This was especially true if you have not been there before. And that is the backbone of every new restaurant’s existence. Schiller had many friends and associates from his days in corporate America. Seattle had a weird reputationwhereby people believed it was a difficult place to make friends. Several major magazines reported this as a why people should not move to Seattle. But those who could, stayed and prosperedfor the most part. Many of his friends were invited to try hisfamous currywurst. At this point it was popular at his backyard grill parties. That was the extent of his focus groups. Still the restaurant radiated warmth and hospitality. On rainless mornings, the aroma of subtle spices lingered often in the early morning mist. 

As for most businesses, the business started out slow and grew the good old-fashioned way. That is by word-of-mouth one person or family would try his famous currywurst and they would recommend it to somebody else, and this chain continued until they had a steady flow of business. The food wasn’t all that unique except for the currywurst. The rest of the food was standard fried food specializing in piping hot crispy fish and chips and breaded seafood. It was the currywurst that provided the niche in the Seattle culinary landscape.

Herr Mann had a few different varieties of the currywurst. First, one must understand currywurst. Currywurst is not curing packed into a sausage. There could be worse, rather Currywurst is a German sausage with a tomato-based sauce that consists of various combinations of paprika and curry. It is especiallydelicious when served with French fries. It is a dish with a dash of German with American exuberance mixed in. The magic is in the sauce. And one of the sauces he serves soon became that of cult status legend. 

It didn’t take long for Herr Mann, to realize the part he loved about this business was talking to people. It was the lunch crowdhe especially enjoyed. Schiller got in the habit of walking from table to table greeting each customer. He didn’t walk very fast anymore, and that was part of the appeal. His friendly toothy smile, and ear to ear grin, was a pleasant sidebar for those seated at tables. Soon after the orders were delivered to the table, he would walk around with his special batch of curry sauce. You could smell it coming toward you as the aroma was that strong.The thing about the sauce for many people it was mind numbingly spicy. It is rumored that the local agencies that inspect restaurants at one time tried to declare the special sauce as a hazard. They wanted a warning to come along with the sauce. However, this was Seattle, and everybody was free to carve their own adventures. 

He would walk from table to table mixing his special curry sauce. He sauntered slowly with his little knowing sardonic grin. He would mutter the words “ sehr scharf “to many a customer and the meaning would take a few visits to be understood. It was soon established that Herr Mann conjured up a currywurst sauce that was the spiciest in the land. It may sound like a hyperbolic reaction to a hot sauce, yet the legend of the local curry sauce started to expand. 

The high-tech industry expanded rapidly into the Seattle suburbs, which made Lecker a convenient spot to stop for lunch. It was especially popular with people from places and countries that preferred spicy food. Many of these customers would walk in with a little bit of knowledge about this spicy sauce. They heard that it was hot, but how hot could it be. We have spicy food in India, and we are used to it. People who have been to Lecker before would tell the first timers, please be careful because this is seriously hot sauce.

Herr Mann knew his clientele and people he recognizes asregular customers. He would let them order the spicy sauce, all on their own. However, new customers, especially those with the chip on their shoulders, he would venture over to their tables. Herr Mann never did anything quickly. He would saunter over to your table while slowly mixing the hell fire mix. Herr Mann is pretty good at remembering names and recognizes the man who brought this table to lunch. He calls him by his first name and tell Bill it is good to see him again. Bill is usually friendly, but usually distracted to remember his name. Herr Mann is happy to have Mister Gates as a regular customer even though he can be a nervy melancholy man. 

“Musst du want try some of diesen hot sauce?” He says in his customary mix of German and English as a gentleman from India thinks to himself, how, hot can that really be? This is the United States of America where everything seems to be on either extreme. To clarify, that’s when it comes to food. He is a guest with two other regular customers and a colleague of his. His colleague listens to the locals and decides to have his currywurst with the traditional sauce. However, the adventurousman with a chip on his shoulder, says that he would love to savor the hot sauce. Herr Mann gives him a nod of approval and asks him once again. “You sure you want to try diesen sauce? He stirs the sauce slowly and looks to the rest of the table for consent. 

He walks over to the man with a chip on his shoulder and reaches out and taps him on the shoulder acknowledging the consent.

Bill further confirms, and quickly introduces the man with thechip on his shoulder to Herr Mann. 

“This is Mujibar, he just got here today. That is here in the good old United States of America.”

Welcome to Washington State Mujibar” he said to Mujibarobviously ignoring the patriot rhetoric.

With almost perfect timing the dishes of currywurst arrive at the table. They all are smothered with the traditional sauce. The entire table seems quite hungry and grab their dishes with mutedenthusiasm. At this point, Herr Mann walks over to the fourthplate and gingerly spoons a thimble of the percolating hot sauce. 

“Enjoy Mujibar” he says with a furtive wink, and he asks him to please be careful. The lunch crowd builds as they sit and enjoytheir meal. The table is mostly quiet as it seems that Mujibar is eating with hint of difficulty. Suddenly a tremor is felt underfoot which seems to quiet the patrons in The Lecker. The rumble grows in intensity. It seems like hours but takes a quarter of a minute. The restaurant grew quiet while the silverware and plastic Pizza Hut like glasses rattle on the table. Everybody stopped eating except for Mujibar who devoured his currywurst with reckless abandon. Another extended silence followed and Mujibar utters the words “Holy F*ck” and all heads turn in the direction of their table. 

Bill reaches out and puts his hand on the computer specialist’sshoulder. “Settle down it was only an earthquake.”

Ashen faced Mujibar seemed shaken and a tad disheveled.”That sauce is extremely hot. His eyeballs look like they were about to explode off of his face. He knew enough not to chug his water. Instead, he started downing the French fries hoping for temporary relief. He was beyond salvaging his pride and told his coworkers he wanted to go back to his hotel room and sleep. 

Back in his hotel room he felt miserable. His stomach hurt; hisribs hurt as did his flaming eye sockets. He knew better than getting his fingers anywhere near his eyes. That sauce was insane, and it interfered with his logical decision-makingprocess. These aches and pains would eventually fade away. He suspected there would be ramifications in the morning. What hurt the most was the bruising of this delicate ego and duty to his country. He didn’t want the story to get back home as to how he was felled by an American hot sauce. He was there for an interview, and he expected it to be a mere formality. They were going to bring his team in to work on a massive lucrativetechnical project. He was defeated and decided not to pursue this opportunity. 

Bill was deeply disappointed when he heard the news from Mujibar. This is the third time he lost stellar candidates to nearly identical circumstances. He wished he could just turn the system off and start all over again. He knew the world rarely worked this way. 

As word does travel fast. The stories probably never made it back to India but certainly the innuendo made it back to thework force and even leaking out into the high-tech community as a whole. And to use a well-worn tired cliché, there is no such thing as bad publicity in the business world. These stories helped make Lecker a campy even more popular lunch destination. Those who ordered and survived the hot sauce usually would get a bumper sticker stating they had scaled that mountain. Naturally people wanted that bumper sticker for the back of their vehicle. The legend grows. 

That’s the American way.