Evidently, a “European nightclub and restaurant” called gezellig — with a lowercase G, no less — just opened last month in Dallas. Initially, this post was basically going to be me congratulating myself on being at the forefront of some sort of gezellig zeitgeist.

Then I saw the menu.

First off, gezellig is not “geh-zell-ik” as the menu says. Ick = not gezellig. It’s said more like huh-zell-uh. But, fine, you’re Texans and I know you got all kinds of crazy pronunciations for stuff. So, I can live with that.

Look, I’m all for sharing the love of the Dutch, but a nightclub (because sitting through a set by the bartender’s cousin’s crappy band always lends an air of coziness to a place) that serves something called a Big Boy (“corned beef, pastrami, melted Swiss/cheddar, spicy mustard, Russian dressing, on a French roll”) seems decidedly un-gezellig. And, honestly, kinda gross.

I mean, would it kill them to add a kroket to the menu? It’s fried; we love fried in this country. I would settle for them serving fries and calling them frites. They even make American fritessaus now — with a good ol’ American flag on it, no less. Hell, even if they just replaced the “melted Swiss/cheddar” cheese on that gut-buster sandwich with an Edam or Gouda and I could maybe — maybe — be okay with their use of gezellig.

But, to paraphrase a great Texan, Senator Lloyd Bentsen, “Gezellig, I served with gezellig. I know gezelllig. Gezellig is a friend of mine. Gezellig, you’re no gezellig.”

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5 thoughts on “DON’T MESS WITH GEZELLIG.

  1. Sorry. I’ve got nothing to comment about this post. Even though it was a lovely post. Too lazy to open up my mail acct, Mitsuwa this weekend?

  2. It’s my birthday this weekend, so I think — or hope, at least — Dave has something planned. Want to go next weekend and help me make a blog post out of it?

  3. Awesome. Finally, the event on which our friendship was founded can be fulfilled. Watch — we’ll go and we’ll like, never talk to each other again.

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