A first blog should really tell something about the author, as well as set the tone for what may follow in future entries. This chapter, my very first, will be called “The Waiter”.

In 1964, I was in the US Army, stationed in Germany. Two buddies and I got a 3-day pass and headed for Garmish, then a US Army rest and recreation center. The hotel was built in the pre WWII war era for high-ranking German officers, and was a 5 star hotel in every way but cost. Post-war prices were set by the US government to be in line with the wages of soldiers stationed in Europe. As I recall, a nights lodging was in the $3 to $10 range for a single, with a view of the Eibsee. Prices were for soldiers, but the services were the best.

My buddies were there to sleep. No activity before noon- heck no life before noon for them.

I was just too excited to stay in the room, the Grand Hotel and adventure waited downstairs.

I wandered into the dining room (food before adventure), and was seated alone. I was just beginning to make sense of the expanse of silver, glassware, plates and a ship-shaped folded napkin, when a 5-foot tall waiter my grandfather’s age silently appeared next to my right elbow and quietly said “uh-hem, How may I be of service”, handing me a multi-page menu the size of a legal pad.

I was intimidated. An 80-year-old, tuxedo-wearing Germans at 8 AM still shook me up. All he needed was a monocle, and I would have spilled all my state secrets. But this was not that guy- this man, no matter what else he had gone through 20 years before, was at that moment my waiter. He was there to serve ME, to keep MY plate silverware, crystal ware, and tablecloth in place and clean. He knew it, and convinced me, as well.

I wanted Eggs Benedict. I’m not sure I knew what they were, but I could tell by the name that they were special. My waiter took the order as though I had ordered diamonds and presented them to me as though they were a secret, only to be known to him and me. They were everything I expected, a dish, taste and presentation that I will never forget.

I began a conversation with my waiter during my selection of the Eggs Benedict, and I confessed to him that my palate was limited and I didn’t know what to try next. He asked where I came from, and what I liked. He thought for just a moment and said, “I will be happy to make suggestions for each meal, if you will sit in my section of the restaurant”

I did just that, and for 3 days the old waiter guided me from meal to meal, through course after course of some of the best an upscale European hotel has to offer. As to quality, I cannot now testify. I can only assure you that to an untrained palate, there was NOTHING I did not enjoy! We explored fish eggs from Russia, Goose livers from France, cheese from several countries, wild game from who knows where, and wines, always wines to match.

After the 3 days, I left with a real sense of loss. The old waiter had become a culinary guide to places I had not known existed.

I have wondered recently while enjoying a good meal, if the old waiter could ever possibly understand what a profound impact he had on my life. I’m sure there are those that will argue that if I was ready for adventure then I would be in the future as well, and the outcome would be the same. I assure you, however, that the patience, quiet assurance and respect given me by the old waiter could never be replaced. Had he looked down at the American bumpkin and belittled my quest, would I have had the courage to try again?

Whoever he was, he has my deepest thanks and respect. Bon Appetite, my friend.