I bet the guy who came up with the idea of a sausage slathered in ketchup with an obscene amount of curry powder was stoned sky high at the time. He probably had the munchies and it was all he had in his fridge. I can imagine that.
That there are a whole host of sober people in Berlin that seek this food out on a daily basis – now that is harder to swallow!
And you know what? I have actually eaten this odd concoction a few times. Not out of necessity – not because I was positively fainting of hunger. I actually craved it. I said out loud “I feel like a Curry Wurst, shall we go to Curry 36.” And I took 2.5 other people there. The 0.5 being little L – who only eats the chips.
We stood at the white tables and jabbed at the sausage with our miniature multi-colored forks. We marveled that Curry 36 is always rammed. With people from all walks of life – the suited ones and the pierced ones and they all stand, shoulder to shoulder enjoying a Curry Wurst.
Why do I do it? Do I really like it? Do I enjoy it? I should know, I have had enough time to get off the fence on this one and plant my opinion flag firmly on one side or the other. But I can’t! Nor can I explain why every now and then I feel compelled to have a Curry wurst. I bet other Curry wurst consumers can’t either.
Sure there are other Curry wurst places – a good contender is Konnopke Imbiss in Prenzlauerberg (which last time I checked had closed temporarily because of the rail road innovations). I like that place because it is so old school, under the rail tracks with a permanent line of queuing punters. There is also Witty’s (which serves organic Neuland sausages). I like them less – sultry service issue rather than sausage issue. But Curry 36 is the place I inevitably trek to, whenever the bizarre urge for a Curry Wurst takes a hold of me.