Best munched standing up at an outdoor snack bar, the sausage is sliced into pieces, drenched in curry sauce and served to the punter on a cardboard plate with a plastic or wooden fork, together with bread, chips or potato salad.
Former US president George W. Bush reputedly once turned up his nose at it, but currywurst was ex-chancellor Gerhard Schroeder's favourite dish and Volkswagen sells more currywurst in its canteens than it does Golf cars so we are told.
Love it or hate it, currywurst, explained museum director Birgit Breloh, is nothing short of a "social phenomenon". "Our goal was to show all the facets of the currywurst," she added.
Entering the museum, decked out in ketchup-red with enormous plastic drops of sauce hanging overhead, the visitor can explore the world of the currywurst with all the senses, hearing the sound of sausages sizzling and the smell of spices filling the nostrils.
Berliners insist a bored sausage seller, Herta Heuwer, created the currywurst on a drizzly September 4, 1949, less than four months after the end of the Western Allies' Berlin Airlift.
Lacking clients, so the story goes, Heuwer mixed up a dash of American ketchup, a pinch of British curry sauce, a few spices and a drop of Worcester sauce and hey presto: currywurst sauce was born.
But the residents of Hamburg in northern Germany also claim the currywurst for their own, with the Currywurst Club Hamburg even going so far as to accuse Berlin of re-writing the history books.