violist

UA1969 BOS EWR 0900 1010 738 2F

I was on the 10:10 but got antsy so put in for the earlier flight,
as then I could take my time and wander through Queens at leisure,
and the flight was WIDE open in F (I had row 3 on the next). When
I got to the gate, 3 people had been upgraded ahead of me, despite
my having been #1 on the list, being a 1K on a non-rockbottom fare.
Eventually it happened, but I still suspect they're playing with
me and hoping I'll go to that next level (consistently buying
cheaper first-class fares).

The flight was fine, I suppose; nothing interesting happened
except that they didn't have any Courvoisier (commoner and commoner
phenomenon lately), so I had a Coke instead.

We landed on time, and I went straightaway to the 62 stop and
caught that bus in about 15, which took me to Raymond St. in a
jiffy. I was too drunk (on caffeine) to remember how I got to
the PATH and found that my MTA card had expired. Anyhow, WTC
and then the E to Kew Gardens to catch the Q10 I think instead
of Airtrain, as I'm a cheapskate. As a result it took 3 hrs to
get between airports, not a biggie as I had tons of time.

I fussed around with this computer at the Admiral's Club for a while,
using a coupon to get a glass of Pyrat XO, which with its citrusy
notes tastes pretty darned cheap and college-studentish, then went
to gate 5 or so to meet lili coming in from California.

Being of more exalted status than myself, she was able to access
the fancy (and overcrowded) Flagship Lounge; this entailed one of
the concierges leaving her desk and unlocking the door; she must
have saved the cost of a gym membership, because someone came in
seemingly every five minutes. It took us a while to find seats
together and near an electric outlet, which is no longer so
critical as this new machine has a fancy battery life of some
four hours.

We were going to take advantage of the dinner spread there, which
turned out to be heavily steam-tabled things one wouldn't want to
put in one's body, so we had a couple drinks and then retreated to
Bobby Van's, where despite its being an airport restaurant I've had
some decent meals. We were led to a large back room in which only
one other deuce was seated. Through the course of the meal perhaps
two more people came in.

The rather nice waitress allowed us to split a porterhouse rare
- certainly it brought in more revenue than two burgers would
have. The steak was a generous 2 lb, tender and beefy and rare as
ordered. lili had the tenderloin and a chunk of sirloin; I got
the rest of the sirloin and to gnaw the bone and feast on the fat.
Sadly much of the tail had been cut off, but there was plenty of
food actually. Sides: the mash had unadvertised blue cheese, fine
for her, not so for me; onion strings, slightly greasy, were very
crisp and very tasty. Trapiche Malbec suited well, but we paid per
glass twice what a bottle would cost in real life.

For dessert lili had a mojito, which was okay; I stuck to wine.

Back to the lounge for afters, which included Hennessy for me
amd Knob Creek for her.

violist

AA 120 JFK CDG 2115 1040 752 2AB

Anyone who thinks this is not the worst business class product in the air
put your hand up ... well, I don't think any person could honestly think
that. It's really not any good. Worse than United's. Seat comfort is sort
of Economy Plus, and the beds have elementary controls that don't do what
you want them to, plus they don't go anything like flat. Service is
perfunctory, not a big deal as all I wanted to do was sink down into my
seat and hide, and the food, which smelled kind of cafeteria-ish, was
easy to turn down. I did get ice cream, though, and a glass of Cognac,
which did its job.

LH2231 CDG MUC 1535 1700 320 11E, 11D was 12D, was 15EF

We got in half an hour early; the fast track pass saved us maybe ten
minutes in line, immigration was quick and easy, and getting our boarding
passes not straightened out took negligible time - I complained that
though I'd prereserved seats together, somehow the computer had decided
to give us (as before) separated seats in the wayback of the plane. The
not unfriendly agent typed away and said that though he saw our original
seat assignments, those seats were now full, and the cabin was pretty
full, and the best he could give us were the aisle in the nonreclining
exit row and the center in the reclining exit row. I inquired about the
cost of business class upgrades. E800 for the pair. Whatever. After that
the walk to the shuttle station was lengthy, and a number of tourists had
a hard time complying with the instructions of the security people at the
Lufthansa area, but still we were in the Senator Lounge in the mid-11s.

It's an adequately appointed lounge, with almost enough electric
outlets, and okay food and drink. It did get a but crowded at times.
The basement location is a little offputting, but still we stayed there
until boarding time - 3 1/2 hours, during which I destroyed my health
with samples of every ardent spirit in the house and numerous cookies.

Boarding was slightly messful, and after hearing a bunch of grumbles
about him I challenged some guy who was pushing his way to the front
of the line under the illusion that his Star Goldness was fancier than
anyone else's. He was somewhat easily shamed.

On board, we traded 12D for 11D, an easy transaction because 12D is a
better seat, so we sat together after all.

The red Bordeaux was Chateau Kyolic, er, Kyanac, not substantially
worse than what the Senator Lounge had offered, but still quite bad.
lili reported that the Merlot was much better.

Next thing we were in Munich.

It's supposed to be easy to get to the Four Points Olympiapark, something
I dearly wanted to do before dark, but on the U-Bahn we got into a
conversation with this expatriate guy who told us that he knew exactly
where it was, just get off at the exit he was using. We were in the
first car, according to the hotel website directions, and I figured
something was screwy when he walked with us down to the rear end of the
platform, saw us upstairs, and vaguely pointed us in a direction, which
we dutifully took until it became clear that we were somewhat off. We
asked a passerby in broken German and sign language, who listened
sympathetically, muttered "ganz falsch," and pointed us in the
opposite direction, where after we regained the station we found that
the hotel's directions were perfect.

A pleasant check-in, and soon we were on track again.

On entering our comfortable but not extraordinary room, we found a rather
odd platinum amenity - a pair of liter cans of Paulaner Oktoberfest and a
3 oz packet of Manner wafers.

The weather was still fine, so we wandered downtown and eventually
found ourself at Augustiner am Dom for beers. Being a bit peckish, we
decided to split a Haxe, which was quite good but too much for our
senior appetites; we left almost as much as we had eaten and reflected
that we should have split half a Haxe. A half liter each Helles and
Dunkeles.

work2fly

German beer, schweinshaxe and Manner wafers...does it get any better than that?

I'm looking forward to the INN installments...

violist

Thanks. Good to hear from you. How's the family? I'll be in touch
next time I have an overnight in your area.

violist

Breakfast was the usual thing; I ate of it because I wasn't sure
I was going to find food in the next twelve hours.

Meinfernbus ZOB INN 1420 1640

The central bus station is at the Hackerbrucke stop just off the
train station. It's kind of modern and pretty clean, but its
advertising to the effect that it brings airportlike experience
to the city is a bit overstated, unless you're comparing it to
LaGuardia or someplace. I don't know what you do in the winter,
but our waiting area was outside, not particularly well signed.

Around 2 the bus pulled up, and the crowd milling about pushed
toward the driver and his assistant. This method of ticket
taking actually worked okay, perhaps because the passengers
were mostly fairly docile and law-abiding Germans and Austrians,
and we loaded up expeditiously.

It was a nice day and a comfortable ride, a pleasant two
hours before we got off a block away from the Innsbruck
train station. Good scenery on the way.

The Hilton and its associated casino were about 3 blocks away.
It has been reported as dated, but I don't always see the point
of contemporary.

They sell the Innsbruck Card here - all varieties. We got
the 3-day, which gave us a cushion, should we decide to do
something Sunday morning, which we did.

We were issued a pair of drink coupons and sent on our way
by the staff, who were clearly nonplussed by an elderly
pair of reprobates disguised as diamond and gold respectively.

As we got off on the tenth floor, the corridor smelled like
turmeric, a rather peculiar touch.

We'd been issued a mountain view room, quite nice, roomy by
American standards, let alone European. After a decent
interval to do our toilette, we headed down to the lobby
to find SZG, his two shy but charming children, and an
assortment of loonies not dissimilar to us. A five-minute
walk to the bus to Congress station, from which the cable car
took us to a transfer point halfway up, from whence we got the
steep and spectacular car to Seegrube, where we had dinner
reservations.

There are two restaurants; some of us showed up at the wrong
one, not a big thing, as one is directly atop the other.

We ate at the less formal one, whose prices were surprisingly
agreeable, and the food was decent, too. There were two tables,
which sorted themselves out into Anglophone and Tedescophone.

Lots of Schnitzels were ordered - perhaps I should have followed
the trend, but I instead got boiled beef with horseradish, which
was made with bottom round, a good cut for this dish but only if
you cook it a long time. This was one of the few occasions when
I found a beef dish undercooked; also, very undercooked vegetables,
as though the kitchen was using recipes designed at sea level for
cooking a mile high up in the Alps. This was okay for carrots,
less okay for celery and potatoes and turnips.

lili also bucked the trend and ordered spag bol, which despite
being a victim of the same underheating, was pretty good.

Entertainment - an accordion and guitar duo playing all the
hits of yesteryear, a program designed to increase Gemutlichkeit
among the natives and repulse foreigners forever. We considered
bribing them to stop.

All in all, a decent meal at quite reasonable price, and in
retrospect I was stupid to order boiled beef at an altitude
where boiling means tepid.

We missed the last connection down from that intermediate
station and had to find a bus from there - a bunch of half in
the bag people with little German and less sense of direction.
Eventually we found one; it took us right downtown, and I
asked the driver where we should walk when we got off - he
motioned for us to go straight ahead, where in reality we
should have taken the first right. Ah, well, it wasn't too
chilly, and the extra couple hundred yards' walk might have
done us some good.

violist

A substantial breakfast, insisted on by lili and acquiesced to by
me as it was free, precluded the need for a substantial lunch. It
was the usual Hilton offering (when it's in a generous mood).

We joined everyone on the tourist bus, which was bizarrely crowded,
so we abandoned it at the Ambras castle, which I found really interesting,
though slightly strange. Most of the art collections have attribution to
the Vienna Kunsthistorisches Museum, which was kind of peculiar until I
read that that institution has taken over administration of the castle.

An armory, a cabinet of curiosities (from tiny carvings to Chinese
nested balls to paintings of freaks and the likes of Dracula), over 300
portraits of members of the Habsburg nobility, a roomful of portraits of
18th century postmasters (less odd than it sounds, as postmasters were
powerful and respected in a day when they controlled the only real
means of long-distance communication), collections of glassware and
furniture, a chapel, and temporary exhibitions (ours was peculiar
takes on members of the animal kingdom, mostly equine and simian, but
maybe we were just unlucky). We spent two hours here and caught
the same bus two hours later. If we didn't have stuff planned, we
could have easily spent another hour, especially exploring the
rather lovely grounds. We found seats on the hop-on-hop-off and
made our way back downtown, where we walked around a bit noting
places to check out the next day.

It being lunchtime, and the special of the day at Stiftskeller being
a half Haxe for E12, we pulled in there, but I chickened out and
didn't eat, ordering an Augustiner dunkel for my calories and
watching lili scarf down a strudel with vanilla sauce with a
glass of Pasler Zweigelt, neither bad in itself, but not a great
combination. I'd just have had the wine and the heck with the
pastry, which was a bit too sweet even by itself, the vanilla sauce
being not very moreish, but rather Knorrish.

Some more walking around, and we found ourselves at the Swarovski
bus terminus, shortly joined by our merry band.
==

Swarovski World is a short trip from the city: you don't actually
go to the factory, but to a sort of theme park adjacent to it.

You enter through a piece of landscape sculpture that I and
probably thousands of others mentally labeled as "the vomiting
green man."

In the dark vestibule is a bunch of art artfully lit to show off
its shininess. Is that a melted watch I see? Well, hello, Dali.

You are guided through an also artfully designed maze of
corridors and rooms, each decorated by a different commissioned
artist. I liked some of them, found others interesting, and
repulsed by a couple. The one I liked best looked like fly eyes
at the end of a bowling alley. Weird urban menhirs was another.

It doesn't take long - I didn't see too much to bury my head in
my hands about. lili and I left early to check out a few more
of the sights in town and then freshen up for our gala dinner.

violist

Bistro Gourmand de Thierry is a short ten-minute walk from the
Hilton - easy to find except for restlessinRNO and his +1, who
were tardy. We were seated at two tables, which also sorted out
into German- and English-speaking ones. This is good in a way
and less good in a way. There's no ideal solution.

A fairly standard tapenade greeted us, with pretty good bread.
The tapenade had too much (sweet) capsicum for me.

Our amuse-bouche of liver mousse met with general approval.

There were three appetizer choices; I got to taste all of them.

A couple mouthfuls of sauteed lamb was an elegant presentation,
and the meat was delicious. However, tuna tartare with yogurt,
though it turned out to taste delicious, had sat there long
enough so liquid had started to ooze onto the plates, not a
beautiful sight. I was the outlier, the only one at our table
to get the seafood entree, pumpkin soup with seared scallops;
I was curious to see what happened between squash and seafood.
Turns out they were separate but next to each other, so I
tried them separately and together. The soup was pretty normal
but not as sweet as I am accustomed to (this difference being
a good thing), the scallops very fresh but not as sweet as I
am accustomed to (not a good thing), but I grew up in a day when
scallops were scallops. They were done rare, perfectly as far as
I was concerned. They made a harmonious but not particularly
exciting combination. Sort of Telemann on a plate.

I had a glass of some kind of perfectly fine Chardonnay with this.

Main courses were a choice of two - truffle-crusted rumpsteak
and sea bass with shrimp, mussels, and eggplant.

I chose Family Secret from Jaboulet as the wine for our part
of the table - light enough to be tolerable with the fish but
Syrah enough to support a truffle-crusted rumpsteak. Fairly spicy,
a bit sweeter than I'd have hoped. If I'd been able to afford it,
there was a nice selection of Bordeaux that would have gone better.

I tasted the steak - quite good, but I didn't figure out the
coating, which was rather sandy breadcrumbs with this black stuff
mixed in. I'm sort of fond of the black stuff, but the proportion
was way too small, and much of the aroma was provided by truffle
oil, which I'm not so fond of. The kitchen didn't seem to
distinguish between medium and medium-rare.

Again I was the only one to get the seafood, which was quite
good, the fish tender but just a bit more done than I'd have
preferred, the shellfish very cooked which added a different
dimension of shell flavor, kind of interesting. I love eggplant,
and this was quite good though ugly to look at. The very cooked
nature of the dish actually improved the relationship with the
red wine. I was pretty pleased.

Desserts:

Cafe Gourmand, a thing of espresso accompanied by three little
desserts - a pistachio mousse that had other stuff in it, a
flourless chocolate cake, and creme brulee that came flaming
in a tiny cup, pretty amusing;

an assortment of cheeses I didn't investigate;

and I had a full-size serving of creme brulee. It was really
good, and I was glad not to have to be limited to the tiny cup
that came with the assortment dessert.

Back for drinks at the hotel, where GrjApp provided more coupons,
so there was enough alcohol for all.

violist

We wandered around the old town a bit, both on foot and using the
card for random short trips on various forms of public transport.

One of our destinations, recommended by the tourist brochures, was
Mariahilf, a supposedly picturesque district just across the river
from town. As it turns out, there is a rather nice church, which we
spent a little time gawking at, but the rest of it, let's just say
that the writer of the tourist brochures must live there. It's
pretty nondescript, the main attraction being a string of small
hotels and bars, each painted in a different pastel color. Not my
thing at all, and I was pleased to head across the river and back
into the historic center of the city.

We'd heard that the Golden Roof museum was worth five minutes, so
we passed it up, saving five minutes, and instead climbed the Turm,
no mean feat for these four elderly legs - the view was in fact
worth the effort.

Then to the Hofburg, where we spent a couple hours; the Imperial
apartments are kind of neat but not done up nearly so elaborately
as have some other palace digs we've seen in recent years.

On the two levels below is a substantial morbid musing called
The End of Life, which expands on the ways we humans deal with
this distressing subject. We started the wrong way round with
the displays of pomp and circumstance commemorating deceased
nobility (focusing on the Habsburgs, of course) through the
years and finished with the common people's view of things (i.e.,
we started at the top and then went downstairs, losing the
possible uplift toward the end of the exhibition).

There is a Cafe Sacher near the exit, and though we could have
used a pick-me-up, we weren't hungry yet so went down the way
to the Hofkirche (you enter through the museum of popular art),
which features among other things the largest empty tomb in
the world, whose significance was lost on me, though its
majesty with its honor guard of statues of the Habsburg dukes
and duchesses, did impress. Here we encountered restlessinRNO
and Dao, whom we invited to lunch, but they had other plans.

lili, being somewhat bummed by all the death stuff, told me
she wanted to camp out in a nice warm spot and have a snack
accompanied by jolly if bad musicians such as those who beset
us on our first night in town.

We were looking about to that end when we passed the cafe
Maria v. Burgund, where outside in the barely tolerable
chilliness we saw the brothers freqflyercoll and sumgai88,
so we joined them for drinks and snacks. Not having my usual
good sense with me, I ordered a pork Schnitzel, which didn't
come and didn't come.

lili had a ham and cheese toast, which was respectable, but
she was well into hers before my plate arrived, a slightly
bitter, slightly burnt, and dry cutlet of slightly inadequate
size, for which I was thankful, as the smallish serving was
about all I could tolerate; this came with a rather good salad.

Later, visiting the restroom, I checked out the place, and it
became clear that the minimal kitchen was suitable for snacks
and sandwiches and Gulaschsuppe such as the boys got, but no
way could they do real cooking, and mine had been produced
elsewhere and then brought in. Live and learn.

We said goodbye to the brothers, who had a train to catch,
and went back to the hotel via the hop-on-hop-off bus, which
was not too crowded, so we got to hear the lecture, and took
about as much time to the hotel as walking.

It had been decided by the majority that dinner should be at
Vapiano, even closer to the hotel than Thierry's place had been.

We commandeered a corner by the bar and set up our little dinner
party. Method: you get a credit card, and every time you go to
a prep station and order, your card is tagged electronically,
and you pay on the way out.

The food is not to my taste, being rather starchy (it's a pizza
and pasta kind of place) and I think somewhat underseasoned, but
it's a comfy space and the prices are decent.

I had a slice of lili's salami pizza, which was okay, but I
did say that I was there mostly to drink - and had a bottle of
decent Blauburgunder from Mittelburgenland for E18 (various
privileged souls got a taste of this). The best-tasting thing
though and the best deal as well was a hazelnut macaroon that I
got at the bar for a buck.

Afterward, drinks at the hotel bar. It was suggested that I go
to the front desk and have more drink coupons issued when ours
ran out; this was successful - something to remember at hotels
without a club lounge.

violist

Next morning looked pretty nice, so we took an exceptionally
early breakfast and then the STB tram to Mutter, a pleasant and
picturesque village up in the foothills, then walked down the
hill to its sister town Natter, whence we took the thing back.

An early lunch at Teresia Brau, which for lili was cordon bleu,
a fair-size pork Schnitzel filled with ham and cheese, with
cream of vegetable soup and potato salad; I had a big chunk of
excellent Schweinebraten with okay bread dumpling and sauerkraut,
all smothered in a nice dark beer sauce.

Meinfernbus again for the hour ride to Garmisch-Partenkirchen.
Again no presence at all at the border, and we got in 1 minute
early which boded well for our last leg on this carrier,
which I don't hesitate to endorse.

I'd chosen the Vier Jahreszeiten based on the decent reviews
on the Net and its proximity to the station - it's at the
end of the parking lot and suitable for the jelly-legged and
the overburdened with luggage.

We were issued a quite nice room with a little balcony, cozy
and pleasant, but the twin beds turned out to be a queen with
twin duvets. Not that big of a deal, and the price was right.

There was plenty of time to wander about town, which we did
until nearly dusk, up to the edge of downtown, through the
Michael Ende Kurpark, then through the south part of town,
turning back up when we found a sign for the train station.

We stopped at a convenient Lidl store for provisions, chief of
which was a bottle of cheap "St. Joseph" dated 2012 from some
unheard-of cellar. This tasted rather like cheap plonk anywhere
in the world (actually, more Cabernetty than anything else) and
was worth one or two fewer than the E5 or so that it cost.

By the same token, what I took from the Kerrygold medium Cheddar
bin turned out to be a softish Gouda-analogue, very buttery in
texture but rather lacking in taste. In the next weeks I encountered
quite a variety of such cheeses, hardly worth the pills but perhaps
helping to save my teeth for another day.

Krustenbraten in a plastic pack, chosen for a nice rim of visible
fat, was quite good, not too salty if you looked at it as ham,
a bit salty if you looked at it as Krustenbraten, and of course
also lacking in the Krusten.

White bread rolls, available by the each, were quite decent
especially for the 15c (E0.13) they cost.

The cheap plonk was perfect with this repast.

violist

In the morning, the self-described wonderful breakfast -
little meat cakes that had onions and therefore weren't
too bad, wieners of the most average sort, hard-cooked or
scrambled eggs, an assortment of unripe fruit, and an
almond apricot cake that though a bit stodgy kept me
going for a good long time.

We had considered one of the more adventurous mountain
trips (cog railways and such, two transfers and something
like E50 a person, but you end up at the highest point
in Germany) but decided that the most view for the least
effort was going to be the oldster-friendly Mount Wank,
whose cable car takes one up to the well-situated but by
no means lofty summit.

From here one can take walks of any length and difficulty,
and ours was averagely modest, though we did summit, which
is an entirely unnecessary exercise unless one wants to
dine at the restaurant that caps the peak. I sort of wish
we had eaten there, as the prices were surprisingly reasonable
for the setting.

As it turns out, though, there's a cafeteria at the station
whose menu is fitted with attractive photos, so instead of
hiking back up to the summit, we refreshed ourselves here.

I had an Ettaler Dunkel, nondescript and pleasant, and she
a split of Ratsherr Blaue Zweigelt that didn't have so much
rat in it, though I'd not be surprised if there was a little.

Leberknoedelsuppe looked like just the ticket, so that's
what I ordered. There was nothing that appealed to lili, so
in my broken German I asked if we could have an order of
fried potatoes without whatever they normally served. Of
course. So the counter guy tossed some fries out of a bag
and into the fryer, and in short moments they were out,
hot, crispy, appetizing. We were charged for the plate - less
the price of the main course. So the potatoes came out at
some negligible sum, a couple Euro maybe. They were actually
pretty good. The liver dumplings were hearty and coarse and
tasted like liver; their soup came out of a Knorr packet at
best; still, it was better than okay.

After soaking up the view and some rays for an hour or two,
we boarded a Wankmobile and bade goodbye to the mountain. At
the base there was a bus in the wrong direction, so we took
the long way around, punctuated by the five-minute stop at
the terminus Farchant, where the very literal-minded driver
threw us off at 2:38 and then let us back on at 2:40, in
strict accordance with the schedule. Toto, I don't think we're
in Austria any more!

We got off at Marienplatz and walked back to the hotel, passing
the Lidl again, where we picked up a bottle of Merlot du Pays
d'Oc for E1.89 ("Chevalier de Fauvert"), a couple bars of Dr. Gross
chocolate - Amazonas 60% and Ecuador 70% - for 1.09 each, and more
bread for her, as we were going to have to leave just as breakfast
opened. The Chevalier surprisingly was kind of okay and the
chocolates better than that, the 60 a satisfying eating chocolate
and the 70 a bit of an eye-opener.

What the heck, we'd done enough wandering, so we presented
ourselves at Hubert's Restaurant, which is the breakfast place
downstairs done up to resemble a real restaurant, with white
tablecloths and a waiter who looks as if his feet hurt (not my
description, originally Seymour Britchky's, of some other place).

I saw just what I wanted, a Schweinshaxe at 10.80, a regular
bargain; with this I paired a Paulaner Dunkel and - given that
I have learned to ignore the kraut and the glue dumpling -
what the doctor ordered. lili was disappointed as even though
it was on the menu, no burger was available. She grumpily
didn't want anything, but the waiter convinced her to get a
bowl of Gulaschsuppe at least. It was okay, sort of salty and
with a pronounced paprika flavor that warred a bit with the
wine she ordered, a local Merlot that otherwise was mmmm er
tolerable.

Upstairs, bed, sleep, good dreams.

violist

Meinfernbus Garmisch MUC 0635 0840 - it was dark and chilly
when we left around 6:20, but the bus stop was teeming with
people. Our chariot pulled in right at 6:30, and we discovered
that having only small bags we kept being shunted aside and
so when all the big bags were accommodated and the little ones
stowed on top, all the good seats were taken, and there were
only assorted singles left. One of us should have just barged
on the bus with the other dealing with our bags, live and learn.

Eventually we got seats within shouting distance of each other.

The bus stops downtown first before proceeding to the airport;
after this stop it's quick and easy, and we were there ahead
of schedule.

Checkin was negligible, security and emigration likewise.

The Senator lounge was pretty crowded and with the usual
catering, most of the good stuff selling out in short order;
I nourished myself on a bunch of Manner wafers and surfed
the Internet for two hours and change, periodically sampling
all the worthy but unexceptional Schnappses and brandies
that were available.

violist

LH2230 MUC CDG 1225 1400 320 12EF

This time our seats stuck and were okay. Lunch was perfectly
respectable - Warsteiner for me and some red plonk for her, plus
half a pastrami and coleslaw sandwich (fairly tasty despite its
being very lean meat) each. The guy in the aisle seat, perhaps
being a delicate palate, offered us his; we declined with a smile.

We landed a bit early; were supposed to meet our friend Swisher,
with whom I was to spend the next three weeks or so, at the Grand
Comptoir, which has been relocated as has much of the airport;
eventually I stationed lili at the exit and took a tour of the
terminal. When I got back, they had found each other and had
taken control of a rental car, alles gut, a dayglo red Renault,
maybe not so gut. Swisher had brought a GPS for the purpose, so
we turned it on and left town. The device kept giving us cockamamie
weird directions, so the trip to the hotel took twice as long as it
should have. Eventually by luck we found Le Grand Monarque, Melun,
a perfectly okay place in a rather nice setting. lili and I split
a small but pleasant room and met Swisher down in the lobby for
drinks. It turns out that this being the offseason, the desk
clerk, whom I suspect to be the manager and probably the husband
of the cook, had to get our drinks, beers for the boys and a vin
ordinaire for the lady.
///
Dinner started at 7, and we nursed our drinks until then.

We were ushered in by the trusty desk guy and given a fairly
nice table in the middle of nowhere but with a view of the
grounds. We were the only ones around until a woman I'd seen
back in the hotel office headed into the kitchen.

I ordered a bottle of Chateau Anniche 12, a thin but fairly
respectable Bordeaux blend with a bit of spice and locorice
in among the usual red fruits. This went with their meals,
not so much with mine.

Swisher had an appetizer of chevre on toast over salad - these
came as two small whole cheeses, very pungent. He seemed to
enjoy them, but I'm pretty sure I'd not have.

Both he and lili had bavettes (a flanklike cut) rare; they
were of decent meat, decent size, and done as ordered. They
came with respectable fries.

I decided I wanted one appetizer and two desserts, this
motivated by my not wanting three steaks at table and the
other choice being a rather fishy fishy that couldn't
possibly be eaten with red wine.

So I got a salade de gesiers, which was not quite as
expected. There's no reason to expect duck gizzards in such
a dish, but that's all I'd ever had before, and I was
surprised to find a huge pile of big chunks of chicken parts
on my plate, over some leaves of curly lettuce dressed in a
quite acidy dressing. The gizzards were good, a little on the
crispy side even though the gelatinous end bits were mostly
cut off. I offered my tablemates tastes - lili of course
refused, but Swisher tried one; he liked the flavor but not the
texture, information that I filed away for future reference.

Dessert number one was a flan de coco, a rather ordinary flan
with some not-so-young coconut on top; I'd have hoped for more
coconut flavor in the pudding itself, but that's just me.

Rosemary-scented roast figs with vanilla ice cream were firm
but ripe, red-wine sauced, and excellent once I got used to
the rosemary, which I thought didn't add much.

There was one glass of wine left in the bottle, so we took it
back to the room, where lili promptly upset it all over her
bed, the glass breaking as well. This didn't affect me other
than my having to listen to the girl berate herself loud and
often about her clumsiness and how she had ruined her duvet,
the sheet, and the evening.

violist

The two of them wanted breakfast. I grumped about and said
I wasn't going to pay $12 (that's per each) for a bunch of
stale rolls and rancid coffee. Shortly I got the report -
I'd been wrong, there was no coffee at all.

At checkout I mentioned the issue of the spilled wine and
the broken glass, but the desk guy (the same one) shrugged
and said "these things happen," so I forgave the place its
heist of the $24 (or was that Euro, I forget).

Southward bound, we discovered a few more eccentricities
about the Garmin ... but also discovered that the onboard
GPS had been activated even though we hadn't paid for it,
and it was (despite a few quirks of its own) pretty
satisfactory, with somewhat more up to date maps.

We passed up Fontainebleau, despite its being only a
couple miles out of our way - the fact that there were
numerous confusingly mostly noncombinable tours available
at extortionate prices didn't help the cause.

And so we wended, part of the way impeded by a convoy of military
parts that took up the whole road and traveled at about 20 miles
an hour - I actually was surprised they hadn't closed the road
altogether for it.

Somehow we found ourselves going through the town of Orcay (c
with a cedilla), where I spied a likely-looking lunch stop.
By the time we found a place to turn around, we were at another
likely-looking lunch stop, so, having no evidence in one direction
or the other, we went in to Le Refuge, which looked jollily busy
and offered a menu du jour of entree, plat, fromage, and dessert
for E12. The main room was full, so we were seated in a side
room, which filled up pretty quickly too.

For starters, Swisher and lili got the special of the day - tomato
and cheese quiche with mustard, which they enjoyed; I tried a scrap
of the filling, which reminded me of Welsh rabbit with a bit of red
stuff (there's a name for this treatment, but I forget).

My terrine du chef had no defects and no particularly cheffiness
about it either - perfectly satisfying with the crusty bread.

The main course special, stewed pork cheek with Calvados sauce was
extraordinarily good in a simple stewish way, the pork porky but
not obtrusively gamily so, its sauce tasting more of a decent
white wine than it did of apple. The two guys had this.

lili got a sirloin steak, rare as ordered, really big, almost a
pound, quite delicious owing in part to its considerable fattiness.

Potatoes in France seem tastier than they do in the States.

Being on the edge of satiation, we passed on cheese, probably a
mistake.

Desserts were an intense blackcurrant sorbet with some whole
fruit frozen in and an equally intense flourless chocolate cake.

Saumur-Champigny Les Tuffes, Domaine de Sanzay 13 was pleasantly
pepper-spicy though a tad on the thin side.

We were pleased and in fact rather impressed; this turned out to
be the best bang-for-the-buck restaurant meal we had during the
whole trip. Looking things up on the Internet it appears we might
have done equally well at the other place. Next time.

Another three hours and after a couple minor detours caused by
the onboard GPS not telling you to turn until you were right
at the intersection, we pulled up at La Souvigne in Forges
(e accent grave), between Tulle and Argentat, where Ian and
Jacquie were just getting our welcome repast ready; we made
our acquaintance with the new residents of the house, yearling
kittens Basil and Rosemary, who won our hearts immediately.

I&J's La Souvigne used to be a well regarded B&B, but they
have decided to start the process of retiring, so for the
next few years they're running it as a gite, which means no
breakfast and somewhat less involvement with the guests, in
theory at least. It has been pointed out that as I've known
them for two decades, and Swisher has been BBS buddies with
him for almost that long, this was not exactly a standard
client-supplier situation.

violist

Ian has become an advocate of the small is beautiful philosophy
of cuisine and cooked up a potage Parmentier - pureed potatoes
and leeks in a vegetable broth, simple and delicious, bringing
out, he boasted, the flavors of fresh vegetables from their own
garden with minimal distraction. Fine if you like the flavor
of potatoes.

The next course was Hungarian wax peppers also from the garden
stuffed with a light sausage filling in a simple tomato sauce,
served with homemade galuska, the Hungarian analogue of spaetzle.

Ch. Masburel 98, a very respectable red Bergerac made by a
British couple, was a light but very agreeable accompaniment.

Cheese board - Cheddar, Stilton, St. Nectaire, Manchego, and a
local blue, Bleu des Causses I think. I had a crumb or two of
the first three out of politeness. I still don't like blue cheese
and don't think them worthy the pills. The Cheddar, from a
supermarket, was actually fairly well aged and pretty good.
St. Nectaire is an inoffensive cheese.

Finally, homemade sorbets from their own fruit, sometimes augmented
by locally bought - I tried peach and pear, both excellent and very
"true fruit."

A glass of Armagnac and a cup of verbena tea finished me off.

After which we started settling into our routine, about which I will
write only about deviations therefrom, but which involved strolling
down to the baker at the end of the street and getting bread or
pastry (I and J no longer run a B&B, which means that they no longer
provide breakfast); then wandering around the region, either snacking
on leftovers or fresh bought local products or combining forces with
I&J (though no breakfast is involved, lunch often was, as they are
old friends); then doing more exploring or sightseeing or just vegging
out, as Swisher was engaged in some computer programming project that
claimed some of his attention some of the time, and lili and I took
full advantage of the free-flow vin grand ordinaire rouge; then
dinner, which was either Ian or me making a meal or going out for
something slightly more elaborate. It wasn't really your standard
gite situation, though we paid ordinary gite prices plus our share
of the food expenses.

violist

All things must pass; we took lili to Brive airport, which
is served by Ryanair and Hop!, so her Star Gold and OneWorld
Emerald don't get her anywhere. It's unclear how the weather
and the GPSes were going to treat us, so we set off pretty
early. Let's see. She wanted to get there two hours before the
flight; Ian said one was plenty. We compromised by allowing
an hour and a half. Google and the GPSes agreed on about an
hour to get there; Ian said 40 minutes. We went with the
majority on this one. But we were ahead of schedule this
morning, so we added half an hour to allow for getting lost.
Three hours before the flight, out of there. The GPSes would
have been right ... but there was road construction, which
wasn't so bad, but that our entrance onto the freeway was
closed, and the GPS seemed to want us to turn the wrong way
down a one-way road. I said to just go straight, but we
ended up somehow going (at least with the traffic) on the
freeway away from the airport. Oh, well, that was 20 minutes
wasted. We did get to the airport almost 2 hours before the
flight, and it was deserted. Not even a coffee shop, and we
didn't want to settle for the vending machines. The phone
found a listing for a patisserie called Coste Vincent et
Sophie in the next town Cressensac. It was open and semi-
inviting, offering a coffee machine, a case of pastry, and
another case with beer and soft drinks. A round of coffees,
except I had a mixed berry tart instead, pretty decent with
a good comemrcial pastry cream and a somewhat less good very
sturdy brown crust. We took our sweet time over this; when
we moseyed back there was just over an hour to the flight,
and still no staff in sight. A line was forming at the
empty check-in counter, though. We stuck around until the
counter opened and bade lili good travels.

It was still early in the day, so I took Swisher on a tour
that included the beautiful hilltop town of Turenne (we
didn't go to the top) and the peculiar red sandstone
village Collonges (where the Comtes de Turenne kept their
mistresses), which we did walk about for a while, as the
grades were gentle and the sun warm.

On to Meyssac, where we found as usual the church closed,
but it was lunchtime, and there were somewhat nice smells
coming from the Assiette Meyssacoise, so.

The proprietress greeted us somewhat warmly, gave us
menus, took our drink orders (two drafts), and then left
to talk with her friends for about fifteen minutes.

Later. Beers came, orders taken.

Swisher got the omelet with cepes "with its salad."
which turned out to be a footlong stuffed with quite
a lot of mushrooms. A big green salad on the side.

I'd been thinking of the local products of the land
menu - gizzard salad, veal head, walnut dessert, but
there was a special of the day avaliable at a very
advantageous price, so I had that.

The starter was listed as avocado mayonnaise. Half a
sizable fruit, perfectly and surprisingly ripe, with a
big blob of tuna salad, a sandwich's worth, overflowing
the cavity. On the side half a devilled egg and a half
tomato sliced over some greens, your average vinaigrette
on top. It was a lot of calories, and surprisingly
everything tasted pretty good.

After that, the plat du jour, beef stew with red wine
dit Bourguignon - a bit more than half a pound of
chuck in big cubes with some bits of fat and gristle
added in because they liked me (or didn't like me),
and three potatoes of the size of which I'd normally
eat at most one, in a tart and salty sauce made with
some kind of wine that wasn't Pinot Noir. Big flavors
and heavy food, more suitable for 25F than 25C, to
which the temperature had climbed. I ended up mashing
lots of potato into the sauce and eating it all.

A dessert of fromage blanc came with, and I told la
patronne that I didn't want it, which caused her some
distress, so she gave me a scoop of vanilla ice cream
instead.

The bill was not large.

Beaulieu-sur-Dordogne was more or less on the way,
so we walked around that town for a while, admiring
as I have many times the abbey church's charming
tympanum and noticing that some nearby buildings had
been razed to make way for some modern excrescences
of the sort that I've always described as more bow-wow
house than Bauhaus.

On to Castelnau, the neighborhood's grandest castle,
notable for being the folkloric putative home of the
original Brunnhilde and for its having been restored
by the 19th-century equivalent of a movie star - a
tenor in the Paris Opera. Oh yeah, the view from the
ramparts. We paid the parking fee and were walking up
to the admission office wondering whether we really
wanted to pay E7 for what promised to be a short and
not that interesting visit, when we started seeing
lightning not too awfully far away, so that answered
that - some deity or another had decided that we were
not going to walk the walls of this castle this day.

So back home in thunderstorms.

Ian and Jacquie had prepared an interesting supper,
light but for one dish.

Potage au cresson was just that Parmentier base with
a bunch of watercress pureed into it. They don't
cultivate watercress in this area (I bet one could
put on waders and find it locally if one tried) -
this had come from Grand Frais in Brive.

Ian had taken part of that foie gras I'd bought and
made it into a torchon and sous vided it for the
canonic time and temperature (55 to 60C for I don't
have any idea how long, but it shouldn't much matter).
It was served cool with bread, but of course I ate it
straight. Better than restaurant.

He had found a recipe for lasagne with zucchini and
mushrooms, and I'd agreed to try it, entreating him
to slice the zucchini as thin as possible and cook
it in butter for twice the length of time suggested
in the book, so it would be both brown and meltingly
tender. He acceded to all of this except he used
the olive oil specified in the recipe. I admitted on
tasting it that it wasn't as poisonous as zucchini
tends to be.

Domeaine des Cros Lo Sang del Pais 11 Marcillac was a
spicy stemmy wine with notes of green and black pepper
made from a grape I'd not knowingly run into - the Fer
Servadou. It went well with the mushrooms and tomatoes
and perhaps the zucchini too.

Peach sorbet for afters.

With this I had a glass of homemade eau de vie de
mirabelle (from a neighbor or colleague or something)
that tasted rather more like coing.