One of my first acts on moving into Apocalypse Laboratories' new headquarters was to accidentally break one of stormsearch's favourite glasses. Her German ex-flatmate gave them to her some years ago; they're engraved with the name of the German ex-flatmate's family vineyard. They're also just the right shape to do sterling service as whisky glasses, until I shipped a boxload of proper Glencairn glasses up with me this week.
Eager to do penance for my glass-breaking ways, I contacted the vineyard, hoping that my German and my Google-fu were strong enough to find the right one. It turns out that German ex-flatmate is the official translator of blundering English emails to the vineyard, and that I am remembered five years on:
You moved in together??? That's wonderful. Your nightly kitchen-fights are a legend! Do you still love to argue over how to prepare the potatoes? This improved my vocabulary enormously.
Yup, that's the right one.
In the original German (if I may apply the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis for a moment),
nightly kitchen-fights is
nächtlichen Küche-Kämpfe, which is going to be the name of my rock band. German is a brilliant language for making things sound awesome.
I should point out that legendary kitchen-fighting in a similar vein was once filmed for posterity. Ah, memories.