Ernest Hemingway had a huge thing for Marlene Dietrich...and Marlene kept her kraut crisp, quivering, and fresh at the ready for Papa H. Despite their heated, obsessive, romantic on-and-on-and-on letter writing to each other, they supposedly never did the deed.
I don't buy it.
Anyway, Hemingway always addressed his love letters to her this way:
My little kraut...
My favorite kraut...
Of course, in Hemingway's mind, he probably did associate the German sexbomb with a plate of pickled cabbage.
Goes without saying: he's man after my own heart.