We have an addiction problem on board the Sissi. Jens is incurably addicted to Lasagna. If he doesn't get his pastaration regularly, he becomes an animal. So at regular intervals we have to pay homage to the god of pastafari and prepare a lasagna. For Jens, the weekly lasagna is as important as the coffee in the early morning for me.
One ingredient of lasagna is minced meat. Minced meat is usually obtained from the butcher at home. There it is freshly turned by the wolf and is delicious. We both reject the minced meat packed in plastic from the German or Dutch or British supermarket refrigerated counters. It was problematic to get decent minced meat in the UK. How should that be in southern countries? Jens and I ran through Dublin and tried to buy a meat grinder. In the country of ready-made food, it was impossible.
So we called our sister Christine, with whom we wanted to meet Guernsey. She bought a real meat grinder in Frankfurt and dragged it together with our nephew Benedikt from Frankfurt to Guernsey. Benedikt carried the massive meat grinder in Paris through the catacombs of the metro.
As a thank you we made a lasagna for them. And for Jens. He was trembling again because the last lasagna was more than three countries ago (Isle of Man, local butcher with decent minced meat).