MUNCHEN #2

If French cuisine favours regional specialties padded out by classic Gaulist fare, you really have to travel to Bavaria to experience culinary favouritism.  Wurst, pork knuckle, Schnitzel mit sauerkraut etc means you have to select another nation's cafe to vary your tucker.  Vietnamese, Thai, Chinese and of course the ubiquitous burger are available, but being close to Italy a plate of authentic pasta is the best option.

My conversation with our barista on our initial visit to Bar Centrale contained a successful mixture of French, Italian, German and English.  By the second visit, we were successfully conversant in Italian to use inflections forgotten since our last visit to Italy.  I complimented our waiter on their selection of Italian beers, "Une Peroni, per favor" , and he complimented me on my request for the bill "Il conto per favor" .  Ciao! See you tomorrow.

Cool is the best description of Bar Centrale in Munich's little Italy.  Retro fifties decor with dark wood panelling, and azure leather furniture with contrasting maroon pintucking.  We lunched on genuine Italian fare complimented by wines from Abruzzi and Tuscany.

Our three day travel pass proved invaluable with U bahn and S bahn trips available at only €24 for both of us.  A suggestion to visit the Stanberg See, German's 5th largest Freshwater lake, saw us hop on the S6 out of Hauptbanhof.  Two stops on an inebriated German got on and between sips began to converse in German.  We said we were Australian and he welcomed us to Munich. "Congratulations on only letting the right people into Australia."  Oh oh!  I began to look around for alternate seating when he asked us where we were going.  Answering him with our destination, he said "You are going the wrong way!".  Beauty, we hopped off and onto the platform for the return train to Hbh and thence our destination.

Bicycles are the other preferred form of transport for citizens and a distinct approaching "ding" informs you that you should get off the designated cycle path.  Approaching Marienplatz a statuesque blonde on a bike chastised the driver of a sleek Maserati who was going the wrong way.  His numberplate STA GG told us all we needed to know.

MUNCHEN

It's certainly different.  Sometimes referred to as the most northern Italian city, it will forever be for me the land of beer and pretzels.

No le petite dejeurner here in Munich, breakfast is two weisswurst with sauerkraut, pretzels, sweet mustard# and a beer.  Alicia had promised she would show Kim and I what a genuine Municher (sic) ate for breakfast.  She directed us to a market place at the end of central Marienplatz where cafes dispensed a minimum of three varieties of wurst and any number of hot meat options.  I know vegetarians are catered for but just not here!  Pretzels are not optional.
# Hausmachersenfs  -  Bavarian sweet house made mustard.

While breakfasting outdoor under spreading shallow rooted trees##, two nannies passed us pushing prams.  One pram resembled a large handcart and transported six gurgling cherubs wearing hats and sun visors.
## Shallow rooted because the bierkellers are located under the market.

Bavarians live up to their stereotyping.  The Englischer Garten was full of people sunbathing and walking in the extensive lush gardens.  If they weren't doing that, they were fueling up at the various biergartens throughout der Englischer on pork knuckles, giant pretzels and beers.  When I say Beer, the smallest is a pint and the biggest..... ?  Who knows?
I felt a bit of a wimp drinking a pint.  Why, little old German ladies on zimmerframes were knocking back litre steins of lager.  However, as we were bicyclists for the first time in a decade it was best we were limiting ourselves to the mere pint.
It has to be said German beer is so much better than French beer!

Any day of the week you could be fooled into thinking it was Beerfest, but it's just Munich having a refreshing ale, admittedly in a swarm. Adjacent to Marienplatz is the market area Viktualienmark where tables full of Germans and their guests drink beer and eat large meals.  Snacks comprising sausages, Schnitzel, pork knuckle, sauerkraut and giant pretzels are consumed in great order.

It's all very well living life like a Peter Stuyvesen commercial, but even sophisticated international jetsetters have to do their laundry, so off we tramped through the mean streets near Hauptbanhof where brothels occur more frequently than laundromats.  City Waschcenter is where the world goes to do their soiled smalls when it can no longer be put off.  Being Germany, laundromats are efficient, Jah!  Not only efficient but entertaining with Spiderman pinball machines, baby boomer friendly radio and helpful laundromistresses.  It's also a great place to complete your overdue blog.

STRASBOURG

I love it when a plan comes together. Leaving Gare de Strasbourg, Kim googled Le Grand Hotel, "It should be close by."  "Do you mean that hotel there?"  It was just across the road.  Perfect.

You notice you are closer to the German border when the rail notifications turn bilingual.  The second clue is menus begin to offer schnitzel and krugelhopf instead of boeuf Bourguignon and Le Petite Dejeurner.  They are still there, this being France, but Deutsch is just over the border.  The sealer is when you go to the hotel breakfast and you are surrounded by robust couples in hiking clothes planning their day over a big plate of small goods and coffee with hot milk.

Our upgraded chamber deluxe room featured two BBC channels that offered Rugby League and Pot Black instead of Jai Alai and soccer volleyball.  We were informed that Britain is enthusiastically adopting solar energy incorporating electronics.  The latest development is municipal litter bins incorporating a solar panel that inform councils when the bins are full and require emptying!

French railway stations have a life of their own: player pianos, walking strips reserved for the sight impaired, high vaulted ceilings, a variety of security services, €0.80 toilet fees complete with turnstiles, marches and bars.  Sometimes you score a lounge reserved for Eurail passengers where you can follow the progress of the platform allotment of your train.  However, in most cases you will find yourself in a scrum equivalent to an under sevens soccer match staring anxiously up at a blue screen marked Departs.

C'est Tragique!!!!  We got on the wrong train.  We should have realised by the composition and livery that this could not possibly be our TGV to Stuttgart.  Unfortunately the train was moving before a fellow passenger informed us we were headed for somewhere obscure.  A quick turnaround at the next station and back to Strasbourg Central to throw ourselves on the mercy of French Rail officialdom.  "Unfortunately Madame, the next train to Stuttgart is full! " Not even 2nd class?" we implored. "You will have to speak to le tren manager."

Now there are some pretty important positions in French society ~ President Macron, top Michelin-starred chefs, your local boulangerist, waiters etc.  But raised to a level high above these mere mortals is Le Tren Manager.  Until you receive their tick of approval the rail network grinds to a halt.  Racing up and down from one platform to another enquiring whether a person in SNCF uniform is your train manager is guaranteed to raise a sweat, and your Eurail voucher to look decidedly soiled.

"Let's just get onto Platform 1 and we will board the next train into Germany and let God sort it out!"  I then noticed a uniformed gentleman adjusting his tie.  "Bonjour, Are you the train manager for the next TGV to Frankfurt?"  "Qui, your tickets s'il vous plait".  "We were informed your train was full, but do you think we could be squeezed on as 2nd class passengers despite our expensive 1st booking." "Qui, there are plenty of seats available in 1st class."

Just outside Baden Baden (so good they named it twice), Kim expansively waved her arms at the multitude of empty seats in our carriage.  "So fortunate they squeezed us in."  Our sole companions were two bright lady pensioners who must have chatted for France.

Bienvenue A Bord.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS #3

Having travelled through the South of France, to Paris and on to Burgundy, it is apparent there is a noticeable adherence to regional culinary choices. You eat a lot of seafood in the south, escargots in Burgundy and Andiollete and Lyonaisse sausage in Lyon. Our next destination Strasbourg will have a German influence.

French biscuits are yummy.  It must be the butter.  People eat late.  More than one course is the norm and restaurant bathroom facilities are usually shared ~ "Toilettes Mixtes".  From my observances kitchen staff frequently have a migrant background (African or Algerian) but waiters are home grown.  Vaping is everywhere as is smoking, frequently at the adjoining table.  

Restaurants named Le Parisian are everywhere but less frequently in Paris.  Our favourite name was Le Petite Glouton aka The Little Glutton.  When your meal is finished you should call your waiter and say "L'addition s'il vous plait" and they will present you with the bill.  If you run all the words together you may get your bill quicker.  French waiters and waitresses have the uncanny ability to be turning the opposite way the moment you want their attention.

I usually feel pretty safe in France despite pickpockets because security is visibly enforced. It is not unusual for soldiers armed to the teeth to patrol with their fingers on their machine gun triggers.  My favourite was a SNCF (railway) officer who could have been the inspiration for the Sontarans in Dr Who. As wide as he was tall with a bullet head.

We have the canny ability to travel from Gares (railway stations) where road facilitities are constantly being improved for your convenience.  I must return when this is achieved.

The funicular aka chain made our Lyon stay most pleasant. I couldn't have walked up that hill to our hotel.  If you intend to visit Les Halles in Lyon, don't plan on a Monday.  It's shut!  However the Quay markets along the river Saone are open if you are in the market for bric-a-brac, textiles or apparel.

French children are generally well behaved and very cute.  Their elders however are frequently seen to be kissing and hugging. French couples are outwardly romantic no matter the age. The French are well dressed as a rule, but have a penchant for wearing T-shirts with stupid slogans e.g. "Enjoy your problem".

Dogs are well loved but small and ugly.

The Northern Hemisphere sky's are remarkably free of stars.

If you intend to cross the road LOOK RIGHT!

Meursault

In Sydney, a taxi driver claims to hold the political pulse of the nation. In Burgundy, they know the nuances of the impending  harvest. Tomorrow is the first day of the 2018 grape harvest.

Our driver conversed with Moritz authoritivly on each Beaune appellation and the time required to complete the harvest.  As the outskirts of Meursault approached, we simply sat back and admired the the vineyards and the diminishing rays of the setting sun.

Le Soufflot is different. The exterior resembles a  modern factory and the interior is completely bereft of soft furnishings.  Our table however, was minimally laid with cutlery and superb wine glasses with the slimmest stems possible.  Few tables were occupied and I began to feel sorry for a bearded 30 something who looked to have been stood up.

Moritz eagerly scanned the wine ledger with a passion only a true oenophile could muster.  His reaction suggested we were in for a remarkable evening.  The five dishes described in our fixed menu would require some serious wine matching.  My layman knowledge of burgundian wine was restricted to an awareness they produced exquisite red wines. Prior to meeting Moritz I had no idea how great Burgundian whites were.

Le Soufflot began to fill up, with our sole diner suddenly joined by five companions.  The remarkable 1996 Pommard Clos des Epeneaux was soon joined by its '98 sibling and a 93 Nuits Saint Georges.  Great wine begats good neighbours and it was soon a party with three tables sniffing and sampling various appellations and vintages. My favourite dish involved a soufflé of nettle over salmon. The waiter, unlikely in checked shirt avec tattoos, paid us due preference, but not excessively.

It all began to get a little blurred and Alicia and Kim announced they were catching our return taxi back to Beaune.  Being altruistic, I offered to stay and accompany Moritz when the hour occurred.  The party moved to the table nearest where our (no longer) sole diner, described to the nth degree the Alsace riesling Moritz had thrown into the mix.  He, we shall call him Guy, was a sommelier!

Our quaffing companions were, in the main, Americans and they were kind enough to give us a lift home.  Despite the nights excesses, Moritz held up a passing pair of mobile gendarmes just long enough for our chauffeur to flee the breathalyser.

LYON

Lyon is surprising to a first time visitor.  A prior viewing of French Food Safari, where Maeve met legendary Lyon chef Paul Bocuse*, led me to imagine it was on a flat plain, however our beautiful hotel is located high above the city close to Basilica Fourviere.  A funicular runs from the Basilica down to Vieux Lyon, but is not called a funicular by locals but chaine meaning string.  Given the elevation, we don't mind being stringed along.  Lyon is divided by the rivers Rhone and Saone but is said to possess another river as a byproduct of the consumption of bougelaise.

There are 250 historically listed buildings in Lyon, many located around Place Bellecore which is the largest square in Europe.  It is the place to shop with Lindt, Zara, McDonalds and Monoprix paying the premium rentals.  I contributed to the economy by purchasing two chardonnays and a tube of shaving creme for sensitive skin.

We invested in two tickets for the Lyon City bus tour, as we have already achieved our 10,000 steps and don't want to show you up (dear reader).  Enroute we passed yet another fine fountain designed by the same artist responsible for the Statue of Liberty.  Originally draughted for erection in the city of Bordeau, the artist grew tired of that cities' farnarkling and opted instead for Lyons' franc.

Located on the Saone, a futuristic orange cube resembling a facet of Star Wars' Death Star, and the vivid green building housing Euronews television are in stark contrast to the historic buildings. This modern neighbourhood replete with cutting edge chic apartments is located on the site of the old customs wharves. Melbourne's Docklands don't compare.

*Despite departing this mortal coil, Paul Bocuse has retained his 3 Michelin stars for more than 50 years.

A TASTE OF TWO CITIES
Apologies to Charles Dickens

Visiting La Table d'Emile in the Languedoc's Marseillan is an experience of which we never tire.  Bookings are essential with the guarantee of haut cuisine and impeccable service. Located within a historic building resembling a cave, you have the option of three fixed price menus with the pinnacle being the chef's selection.

Previous complicity with Chris Paterson in going for the summit was not an option as he had returned earlier to Canberra to ensure the smooth running of Parliament.  Well, we all know how that turned out!  We six, we happy band of brothers (and sisters) thus decided upon the €33 three course option.  What a bargain!

A delicious thick seafood consommé arrives before your entree. Consumed with a straw, I had to have two helpings because Kim is allergic to crustacea ~ well someone had to.  Kim's entree of carpaccio of salmon made up for missing out.

Our main course of a rare fillet mignon was accompanied by a selection of succulent vegetables and our initial viewing of a large marrow bone ~ a fixture in traditional French restaurants.  While my companions ate delicious sweets, I partook of La Tables' piece d'resistance ~ the cheese trolley!.  Roquefort, brie, goats, hard and pimento, plus a sweet jam accompaniment.  This is what it is all about.

Chez Paul in the Bastille area of Paris boasts its menu has not changed since 1940, and it was Alicia's second visit to that week. "You have to go" she insisted, "Its so authentic."  "What did you eat?" asked Kim.   Well, it was a bit of a shock" Alicia replied,  "It was called Andouillette sausage and when you cut it open tripe explodes out of the casing!"  It was good, particularly the mashed potato.  So will you be having it again?"  "No."

"Doux escargot et six escargot, s'il vous plait, to share". Bon."  Delicious with plenty of bread to mop up the hot garlicky olive oil.  I noticed the barman was grimacing occasionally as he moved about the bar making drinks and pulling beers. It takes one to recognise a fellow gout sufferer, and he was in agony.  Still, the show must go on.

Our pepper steaks were perfectly cooked and accompanied by frites.  "Americano coffees but no sweets thanks" . "No sweets!!"  "Non, merci."