For the first time since we had arrived in Paris, we woke up before the sunrise. At 6:30 am Saturday morning, we woke, gathered our stuff, and headed for the train to Strasbourg. We had purchased our tickets online in advance so we could pick them up at the station's automatic ticket machines. Of course, when we got there, the machines didn't work, which forced us into waiting in a not very long but unbelievably slow line. With a half hour to spare, I didn't start out concerned. But when the first person of six took 10 minutes, I calculated that making our train seemed highly unlikely.These were the moments that I wished later I would have just relaxed and been the type of person who thought, "this train, next train, ah who cares?" Unfortunately, I instead paced in my two by two square, tapped my foot and did a lot of sighing. After all that, we picked up our tickets at the counter, ran to the track and hopped aboard our train with about 30 seconds to spare. By then I was quite tense and now Geoff started frowning because our 'relaxing' trip was obviously anything but.
Over the course of the four hour train ride, we unwound. Luckily, the Hôtel Monopole Métropole (http://www.bestwestern-monopole.com/) was a short walk from the train so this trip would be car-free. We dropped off our stuff, and immediately headed for lunch. Geoff had picked out three winstubs (wine restaurants) which was fortunate since the first one was booked and the second one closed.
It suddenly occurred to me that I no longer rehearsed my lines before walking into a store or restaurant. It wasn't that I was so confident that I would understand or be understood. My language skills had certainly been improving. But it was mostly just an attitude change. And anyway, signs and menus in Strasbourg mostly featured French, German and English - probably due to the large number of foreign visitors.
So we sauntered into the third restaurant and requested a table. They sat us at a four person table and Geoff thought it would be more romantic for us to sit side-by-side which we did. After about 30 minutes of waiting for them to take our order, we realized that they thought we were waiting for another pair of friends to sit across from us. So we flagged down the waiter to tell him that we were ready to order. I'm not sure if he thought we had given up on our imaginary friends or realized they never existed, but food was on the way so I was happy.
Directly across the border from Germany, Strasbourg's cuisine was more Alsatian than French. Of course, we opted to try the regional specialties. We chose an onion tart to share which was a thick, delicious slice of an almost quiche-like pie filled with tasty onions. For the main dish, I ate a small chicken with spaetzle (which reminded me a bit of matzo brea) and Geoff had choucroute (plate of sausages) with the freshest horseradish I have ever tasted. A house Riesling accompanied the meal quite perfectly.
After a meal like that, we were of course in a delightful mood and walked around the city and paused for quite awhile to gaze up at the intricately Gothic pink sandstone Cathédrale Notre Dame in the city center. Strasbourg appeared to be an incredibly civilized affluent city, not surprising considering it housed the European Parliament and the Council of Europe. This was accentuated by a large number of pedestrian-only streets and efficient quiet modern above-ground trams. The German Rhine running through the center reflected off the lovely architecture, also a melding of French and German. We wove across bridges and took some pictures. Then we found a park to rest in and watched a couple playing ping pong - a strange sport for the outdoors.
That night we decided to go for a light dinner in anticipation of the next day's three-star lunch to come. So we picked a beerstub in the town center and ordered some Flammenkueche, a thin pizza, and quiche lorraine - both regional specialties which we accompanied with some Heineken (produced locally). There was nothing incredibly life-changing there, just a simple tasty dinner. The best part perhaps was that we could eat outside on such a wonderfully crisp night.
The next morning we skipped breakfast knowing that we were in for a treat. We found the Michelin three-star Buerehiesel to be a charming house in the middle of the parc de l'Orangerie by the European Parliament. As would be expected, we were greeted with pleasantries before we even walked through the front door. We spoke only in French and, despite our grammatical errors and poor accent, they replied the same. The dining room looked open air due to the number of windows looking onto the surrounding park. The menu overwhelmed me a bit so I was relieved we decided on the tasting menu with accompanying wines - definitely the simplest choice. Each course that came out stunned us, but the appetizers were definitely the stars of the show. We had an assortment of amuse bouche - an Asian-inspired dumpling and beet topped with goat cheese - followed by scallops that simply melted in our mouths and crispy frog legs (which I thought was fish until Geoff informed me after I had happily gobbled up the last one).
We had a bit of an embarrassing situation at the end of the meal. Geoff paid in cash but we needed to break a 50 euro bill. I was positive that if he left it that they would bring us the change. I mean, in every restaurant, brasserie or café we would leave a small tip and not once did they ever assume anything left was for them unless it was left on the table after we left. So I figured clearly they wouldn't assume we were leaving them such an insane tip especially considering the tip was already included in the meal. But the 50 never returned. Too embarrassed to do anything, Geoff figured it was as good as gone. But I wouldn't have it, so I made an ass of myself (or them depending on your perspective) and tried to explain we needed change for a 50. Of course, it was always in these situations where language failed me, exacerbating the situation. It was an unfortunate ending to an absolutely wonderful meal. But no matter, we were blissful and after the half dozen glasses of wine each we left but didn't make it much farther than parc de l'Orangerie where we lay on the grass in the sunshine for at least an hour. Life was good.
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