Mixin' Up My Schnitzel

Here's how I know I've been living in Germany long enough to be familiar with it's systems, but not so long that I am totally used to the place.

Yesterday I had a hankering for a salad for dinner. I had purchased some goat cheese last weekend that I hadn't opened yet. I thought it would go nicely with some pan seared turkey cutlets, greens, and cherry tomatoes.

I ran into the grocery store, made a bee line for the meat section in the back, and picked up a packet of white-meat schnitzel.* Fast forward to hours later, the salad assembled, pan on the stove, schnitzel on the counter, and Kevin walks into the kitchen.

"Pork chops," he said. "Sounds good."

"What?" I replied. "Pork chops? No. I'm making turkey,"

That's when I looked at the package. Sure enough, I had two Schwein (pork) cutlets. I realized that, for the first time since moving I simply ran into the grocery store and picked up something without reading the package. I though I just knew were everything was...but apparently I'm still not 100 percent at local.

* As far as I can figure, "schnitzel" on a package of meat means cutlet.