City of Sausage

"Excuse me do you serve food?"

"I'm sorry, we only have sausages."

It's exchanges like this that means Frankfurt should be a dream destination, somewhere that only serves beer and sausages? It's even named after a type of sausage.  By anyone's reckoning that's a porky paradise. But, they didn't sell sausages, they sold wurst; I'm not 100% sure what the difference is but it's definitely there.  I think it's something to do with needing a run up with your fork to get through the skin.  But it could be to do with the day-glo colour. Either way it means that you can only eat a finite amount. Boo. By second dinner we'd had to leave the world of sausage and head for something with a more defined pork content, I feel like I'd let myself down.

And that's before we get on to currywurst. Adding bbq sauce and curry powder to a chopped-up, pre-cooked sausage isn't a 'thing', it's a way to use up leftovers before your student loan comes in.

As for the less-sausaged elements of the city, it was nice enough but a little bit soulless.  Sort of like if you go to the Square Mile  at the weekend.  Only with rubbish sausages.