Dear Forum friends,
This all happened two years ago. Valentines Day just past brought it back to my
mind.
A German baker I know suddenly needed to relocate his industrial bakery and was
anxiously searching for commercial space. I arranged a meeting between a him and a Canadian of Lebanese descent, the owner of a commercial building.
Now to get the point of this story you need to know that in Germany they make a
pastry like an eclair and shaped like a Long John donut, filled with cream and covered with chocolate. This pastry is called a "Liebesknochen" which translates
as "A Lovebone." Until that afternoon I didn't have any true understanding of the name of this pastry. After all, I left Germany fifty years ago at a young age
still somewhat naive. I understood the meaning much better later that day.
The building the Lebanese Canadian owned used to house a restaurant named "Bull
and Bear." This name may lead you to think it was like an English pub, but that
wasn't why it carried the name so well. It was because there was a stockbroker
located on the premises. A "Bull market" is a rising stock market where people
are buying and everybody anticipates making money. A "Bear market is one that
is a falling market, and that's the reason for the name.
My witty Lebanese friend had successfully operated this restaurant for a number
of years. He is excellent at being "Mine Host" and people came for his friendliness as well as the good food. Then a newer restaurant of The Pantry chain opened next door and the Bull slowly went to its knees, and the Bear disappeared. Are you still with me? It gets better. ;->
After some years of vacancy the businessman received an offer to lease from a store selling lingerie. This tenant took everything but the kitchen in the rear at
a price that was so good the owner just let the kitchen sit thered, closed off
and untenanted.
The only way into the kitchen was through the lingerie Shop. Now we were going
to show the kitchen space to a church-going German Lutheran baker. My part was to introduce the parties and help them with the leasing arrangements if the space
was acceptable. The problem was that the lingerie business was, in reality, a love shop selling sex toys and other such items, besides lingerie.
I went to the building at the appointed time in late afternoon and met the owner
who explained that he would be happy to break through a brick outside wall to install a new outer door accessable to the side lane, if the baker would lease the place. I saw the baker come to the building from the direction where the love
shop's sign was. When he saw the great big red neon sign winking in the dusk,
spelling out "THE LOVE SHOPPE" his jaw dropped and he was ready to leave without
even viewing the space.
Now "Love Shop" translates into German as "Liebesladen." I quickly spoke to him
in German: "Never mind The Love Shoppe", just think of the opportunity! Here next to this "Liebesladen" is a place where you can bake "Liebesknochen" (Love Bones.) He burst out laughing and was softened enough to be willing to view the space. We three entered The Love Shoppe where a young lady presided over a large array of erotica including some toys that looked to me just like "Liebesknochen!"
We had to crawl under a rack filled with lacy black and red lingerie to reach the door into the kitchen. Needless to say, the baker didn't find these premises to his liking whether a new door was promised or not. It was too small for the big stone oven that had accompanied him and his family from Germany, and I guess too close to Love for him to be able to feel comfortable about his wife and teen-
aged daughter helping him in their bakery.
We crawled back out again with panties and bras tugging against our hair, and arrived just at the feet of a male customer who was greatly astonished by three men suddenly emerging at his very feet! One being roly-poly and swarthy, the second originally pale, but now blushing deeply, was short and square with bushy brown hair, and the third was rather tall with silvery hair and looked a lot like me!
You can be sure that when I arrived home I lost no time telling the whole story
to my dear wife, just in case an acquaintance might have seen me coming or going
. This is still a small city, after all!
Such are the adventures one can encounter while trying to help people. I've had
many funny adventures in such a process, and lots, including this one are worth
a good belly laugh to me any day. :-)))
My baker friend found a former plumbing shop big enough to accommodate the large
stone oven he brought all the way from Germany when he immigrated under the
government's Entrepreneur Program. He recently secured a contract for all the breads and pastries served in the best hotel in town so life is becoming easier for them now.
With best wishes, Uncle Ben
