Setting: The Schnitzel Platz restaurant in suburban Glendale Heights.
The occasion: My brother's 42nd birthday.
Myself, MizBubs, my brother's family and our 78 year old mother were seated in the large corner booth of a German restaurant on a relatively quiet Monday night. The adults were consuming liter-sized steins of Spaten and Hofbrau beer.
The restaurant serves at least 14 kinds of schnitzel, and we were discussing what kind of schnitzel we might order. My brother obviously found the phrase "wiener schnitzel" amusing and managed to repeat it several times during the conversation.
Suddenly, my adorable 5 year old niece piped up, her chirpy little voice clearly audible above the restaurant's din:
"Maybe there could be a PENIS SCHNITZEL!"
We all went silent. As did every table within earshot.
