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Dining With Elvis – Speisekammer in Alameda

    As some of you may know, Elvis Presley is alive and well and lives in a room in my house. Every month we choose a new restaurant to visit in The Bay Area. We eat, drink, and talk about the old days.

      It was Elvis’s pick this month and I gave my colon a pep talk believing “The King” would likely take me to the greasiest spoon in the world. I tried to talk him into selecting a place that served fish ‘n’ chips so that I might continue my search for the best in the Bay Area.

      When Elvis told me he wanted to check out a German restaurant in Alameda called Speisekammer, I was surprised.

2424 Lincoln Ave., Alameda, CA

     “Man, you know I like the wiener,” Elvis said, completely straight-faced.

“You like ‘the wiener,’” I said, trying not to laugh.

He said it again, and then upon realizing what he’d been saying, slapped me across the back of my head. “Make fun of an old man wouldya?”

“Sorry, Alan,” I said, using Elvis’s Graceland codename. “Let’s get a beer at the bar. I need to get my throat lubed up if I’m going to be swallowing wiener.” I shot Elvis a cheeky grin and he just scowled at me. “Sorry, King,” I whispered. “No more, I promise.”

       Elvis was stationed in Germany in the late 1950s and during that time discovered a penchant for real German food. We took our beers to the table and Elvis looked over the menu. “What the hell are ‘German Fries?’” he said.

“I don’t know, mate,” I said. “What the hell are French Fries? I mean they’re talking about chips aren’t they? I’ll tell you what, Alan, order some and we’ll check their little passports.”

Ketchup by Heinz?

       Elvis ordered the Bratwurst: two pork sausages served with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes and mustard. When Elvis’s food arrived, I glanced at his plate and quickly looked down at my beer and smiled. He stabbed at a sausage with his fork and waved it at me. “I swear to God if you make another pecker joke…” God bless him, but I swear he makes more inappropriate jokes than anyone I know; especially when it comes to discussing his own “wiener.”

Two wieners, und I’m ze only plate, ya.

    Our “German Fries” arrived and as I suspected they were just normal fries, perfect in every way, though. Elvis asked me if I’d ever had Spätzle. “Gezundheit,” I said.

“No, Spätzle, you dang stupid Limey. It’s like Mac and Cheese, but for grown-ups.”

Spätzle is like a savory desert-treat

      In an attempt to still get some variation of my fish ‘n’ chip craving, I ordered the Gegrillte Lachsfilet which was a grilled salmon fillet with mashed potatoes, spinach and cucumber-dill sauce. The salmon was so fresh it tasted like it had been hoisted from a stream that afternoon. I watched Elvis inhale a sausage and wished he’d break his “no paparazzi” rule and let me take a picture of him. “Man, this is as good as I remember,” he smiled, as I wiped a little dollop of mustard from the side of his face with my napkin.

      The band began to set up their instruments, and Elvis looked at the stage longingly. “Do you think I should ask if I can sit in with them for a song or two.”

“Come on, Alan, you know you shouldn’t try to draw attention to yourself,” I said. “Anyway, we should be getting you back home. There’s a Golden Girls marathon on Lifetime. You know how much you love that Betty White.”

“Man, I sure do. Did I ever tell you I let her…”

           “Meet Little Elvis?” I interrupted, resisting the urge to use the word wiener. He furrowed his eyebrows a little.

“No, I was actually going to say ‘let her……beat me at Scrabble.’”

“Sure you were, Elvis, sure you were,” I whispered, as I helped him out of his seat.

For more background, read the first “Dining With Elvis” here:


©Matty Stone 2010