it's a new record.

The number of blog posts I've managed to write in one day, that is. (Well, except that this one may have taken more than one to finish.) I've been inspired by my Dad, who has been typing away and writing all sorts of posts...as we've traveled, no less. It makes me feel that the least I can do is catch up on all the stuff that happened before we hit the road. With only a little further adieu, I give you...Zermatt.

I'm quite ashamed that it took us a year and a half to get down to the Matterhorn, but there you have it. Sadly, this was our last trip with Dave and Jen, at least while they were Zürich-based, but happily, it was Jen's birthday the week before, so Dave suggested that we should all spend the weekend in Zermatt. It was fantastic. Terrific food, great friends, ridiculous scenery...what more can you ask from a weekend outing?

Purty scenery from the train. There was lots of it.

And upon checking into the hotel:

The view from our balcony. Yup. Mike found a nice little place for us to stay.  :)

As always, when traveling with Jen and Dave, they've done the heavy lifting when it comes to finding amazing food. The evening we arrived in Zermatt, we had dinner at Schäferstübli, an insane sheep-themed restaurant in the cellar of a hotel. Seriously, the whole place is decked out in sheep and sheep-related decor, and on the menu--surprise!--is sheep. In many, many forms. Here was my dinner companion, right over my head.

I was dubious as to the fastness of whatever was holding him to the wall.

Regardless of threatening sheep, the food was excellent. We had some deliciously smooth (not too sharp!) raclette with potatoes for a starter, then sorta shared a plate of lamb three ways; a plate full of veal steaks; and my personal favorite (lucky for me, since it was my plate), a lamb and cheese sausage-wurst-y kind of thing. Yum, yum, yum.

The next day, we found some coffee, then headed on up the side of a mountain to have lunch at Chez Vrony. I really cannot overstate the sheer awesomeness of this place, the building itself (with its giant sun deck), the serious scenery, and the incredible food, all of which is locally sourced or house-made or organic or some combination of the above. 

Matterhorn the next morning. This thing really is as awesome as it looks; when it's in view, you can't focus for too long on anything else. It's mesmerizing.

Marmot on the walk from the Sunegga funicular station down to Chez Vrony for lunch.

Alpine wildflowers, everywhere!

The view from Chez Vrony at lunch.

Fresh, made-that-morning goat cheese, wrapped in house-made, slightly aged cheese, with house-made dried beef on organic greens. Heaven on my plate.

Another raclette starter, with some small potatoes and fig-raisin-cinnamon chutney. These Zermatt-ers really know know their raclette. Soooo good.

Summer salad with organic greens, olive oil, raspberries and raspberry sauce, and more fresh-that-morning cheese.

Jen and I had the same pasta: goat cheese ravioli with butter, sage, and caramelized pears.

Mike's dish of mountain goat with potatoes and veggies.

Dave ordered a hamburger on their reputation at Chez Vrony, but he wasn't too thrilled with it (overcooked), although the bun (sort-of a wheat "everything" bun) was seriously good. And at least we all got to finish the meal with some delicious digestifs (a Bailey's coffee and some awesome espresso with amaretto and unsweetened whipped cream and almond shavings...mmmm....). The food was superlative, the views unbeatable, and the service just delightful: the next time you're in Zermatt, YOU HAVE TO EAT HERE. I'd go back just for this restaurant alone.

After lunch, we walked back down the mountain into town. Being the giant history nerd that I am, I insisted that Mike and I roam the streets and look at all the wonky old buildings, which turned out to be hugely interesting. (In my humble opinion.)

Butterflies 'n flowers, all the way back down the mountain.

The climbers' cemetery around the church in the middle of Zermatt. Everyone buried here died climbing one of the prodigious peaks around the city.

Old stuff! Most of the buildings that look like this date back to the 16th or 17th centuries. The stilts with stone circles underneath the buildings were an attempt to prevent rodent invasions...wonder how well that worked.

You know this one was the fanciest, back in its day.

Some of these streets made me think of wild-west, gold-rush towns...only older.

Saturday evening's dinner was a bit on the crazy side, too. More sheep decor, but also vast amounts of craziness, at Chez Heini. The owner used to be a singer and made his money on records, then decided to open this restaurant, which was pretty fantastic, not only in the quantities of food they gave us, but also in the decor (celebrity photos! sheep! gold records! wagon wheels! candles! chandeliers! taxidermied sheep and goat heads! and more! call it "eclectic"...). 

The main sign. Yup, you pronounce it the way you think.

The menus were essentially scrapbooked photos and quotes sandwiched between two actual records.

The dishware either had the owner's name and likeness and was inset with crystals...

...or had this little backpacking sheep standing on a record on it.

It was fairly dim in there, so my photos of the food didn't come out terribly well. But anyway...we started with salad with prawns and scallops; then a pureed corn soup with broccoli oil, served with a slice of super tender pork cheek and tomato; then lamb three ways with a buttery vegetable medley and some seriously cheesy, crispy-topped potato gratin; then seconds of lamb, veggies, and potatoes, for those of us who were too stupid to quit; and finally apricot tiramisu and coffee mousse, served with vieille prune (a local prune liqueur, and quite tasty) and espresso. The food was pretty good, but the real attraction was the post-dinner show. Apparently, in high ski season, the show can run 45 minutes, and involve audience participation; ours was a measly 15 or so, including video and just a couple of songs. After everyone's been served dinner, the lights dim and a screen rolls down from the ceiling. Images of Zermatt, skiers, helicopters, giant mountains, and green valleys roll across the screen, and then our host, Mr. Dan Daniell himself, launches into a couple of his most famous songs, usually in duet with a waitress. Dave was hugely disappointed, as he's seen the full-length show, but for me, this was a level of kitsch (woohooo!) heretofore unseen. (Especially when viewed in the context of Mr. Daniell's own fragrance line, entire collection of CDs, and a cookbook or two, all on display downstairs near the sparkly-walled restrooms, and all available for purchase.) Sadly, it was dark, and from where I was sitting, the two singers were behind a column. But I definitely got to hear everything. Here's my crappy video. (And if you want to see some genuinely amazing videos, check out Dan Daniell's on YouTube.)

Sunday morning, the four of us hopped on a gondola up to the Matterhorn Paradise, a wee ski hill and restaurant in the saddle between the Matterhorn and the Breithorn (at 12,739 feet). We'd heard that there is actual year-round skiing at the Matterhorn, and it turned out to be true.

It may not be the steepest or the longest run, but it's still here, and still populated, in June. 

View from the gondola between Schwarzsee and the Matterhorn Paradise.

Dave and Mike summiting the "Matterhorn."

The Breithorn (13,661 ft). What looks like a line of ants is climbers on their way to summiting.

The view from the Matterhorn Paradise down towards Zermatt, in the valley on the left.

Looking over the back side of the saddle into Italy. The Matterhorn, naturally, is the peak entirely covered in clouds on the right.

The gondola cables from Schwarzsee up to the Matterhorn Paradise. You can just barely see the gondola terminus right under the pointy peak in the middle. From here, zoomed out, the Breithorn is on the left and the Matterhorn on the right. 

I am not going to kid you, despite the full sunshine, it was pretty chilly up there, and the snow was DEEP. But halfway back down the mountain, the wildflowers were in full bloom and we got to walk through fields of them in the course of our search for Zum See, the restaurant at which we were having lunch. It's a nifty little place, set in the village of Furi, which is a small cluster of 350+-year-old buildings in the middle of an Alpine meadow. The outdoor tables are scattered on terraces between the buildings, which makes it almost like you have the restaurant to yourself. WHAT A SERIOUSLY GORGEOUS PLACE. 

Restaurant Zum See.

My giant heaping pile of rösti with bacon and eggs. YUMMMM.

I opted for possibly the least sophisticated dish on the menu, and I have no problem with that at all. Highlights from the rest of our meal involved starters of shaved local cheese and dried meat, and a plate of octopus carpaccio (the side of an Alp is a weird place to eat that, I know, but it was DELICIOUS); veal steak with mushrooms and potato gratin; nettle and ricotta tortelloni with sage; and desserts of homemade ice cream with berries, and a super tart rhubarb tort with sweet meringue. And some fabulous espresso. 

Good food in a beautiful setting...and that's how we missed the train on which we'd reserved seats in the second-class section (which, in Switzerland, is usually sparkling clean and only slightly less roomy than first). We knew it was going to be crowded on the way back, so Mike decided to spring for an upgrade to the first-class section (which is usually empty), and BOY, WAS IT WORTH IT. Seriously. The second-class cars on the Bern-to-Zürich leg were a madhouse...children yelling, people sitting in the stairwell, groups of seatless nomads roaming the aisles, and a temperature of about 90 degrees plus humidity. It was all very un-Swiss. And once we'd fought our way into the first-class section we found ourselves in a nearly-empty, air-conditioned, cushy car and proceeded to play Words with Friends on Mike's tablet, all the way back to Zürich. This is the second time I've said this this week, and it's as true now as it was then: WE ARE THE CONSUMMATE YUPPIES. Life is good. 

A footnote to leaving Zermatt: in the train station, MY FIRST BRUSH WITH ACTUAL SWISS ALP HORNS. These guys were maybe not the most polished of musicians, but they were very friendly with all the tourists who approached them after they played, and then they COLLAPSED THEIR TELESCOPING ALP HORNS and packed them up. (Seriously, they fit into that little black case next to the horn on the left.) That was a lot of excitement for me.

I apologize for the video quality, but I was shooting on my phone, from the train. I was amazed at A) how many notes they could produce from an instrument with no valves, and B) what a lovely tone they produced. Ricola has been lying to us. These guys aren't so goofy, after all.

Well, it was a bittersweet way to finish our experience in Zermatt: gorgeous place, good friends, ridiculous food, interesting music...but it was also our last trip with Jen and Dave while they were still Zürich residents. I know they have plans to come back in the fall, and we'll do our best to get out to San Francisco to see them (Mike's supposed to go twice a year for work...  :), but it's so sad to have them leave. They're leaving a giant vacancy in our little group of friends, and we will miss them greatly, but I hope they have a fantastic time in San Francisco.

Up next: I start down the loooong, long list of places to which I tagged along with my parents on their European sojourn. Hope they didn't mind.

p.s.

Oh yeah...I promised to include a little something on our anniversary celebration, so here it is. We celebrated 9 years back in June!

First, Mike brought home an absolutely exquisite bouquet for me, which I promptly forgot to photograph. All I can do is list the flowers involved, 'cause it was so pretty I got all distracted and failed to document it. Boooo, Sarah, booo.

Here's what it looked like after all the other flowers had kicked off. A couple of gerbera daisies and a stunning off-white-peach-y lily. But before, there were also more lilies and daisies, plus peachy-pink roses, raspberry alstroemeria, some sort of yellow-green foofy feathery greenery, and small palm and fern fronds. SO pretty. Really extraordinary.

Then, it was off to dinner at Hotel Zum Storchen, which is a relatively fancy, snooty-like restaurant right on the river Limmat in beautiful downtown Zürich. You can certainly pay more for a meal here in our fair city, but you have to go looking for it. Actually, we had a delightful experience, with plenty of good food, and terrific service, so I have no complaints. What a lovely anniversary dinner.

When we arrived at our table, they had a little gift box waiting for us: a heavy pewter keychain with their logo on it, for our anniversary. Mike had told them why we were coming, and they did not disappoint.

They also had a gorgeous little bouquet of roses and orchids on our table, which I originally thought were on everyone's table...but then I realized that we were the only ones with it. Another anniversary touch. Here they are, complete with Mike reaching for the basil-infused olive oil.

We didn't take any photos of the meal itself, as we started it outside on the balcony, and then were abruptly moved indoors when the heavens broke loose in a furious torrent that jetted through the grommets on the awning over our (we thought, protected) heads. We had, just a short time previously, been fairly self-assured in our being protected from the storm, chuckling in confidence to ourselves, as were the rest of the people out on the balcony with us. ("Ooh, look at us, we're safe and dry under this awning.") However. In the course of five minutes, I watched the city disappear under a gray curtain of thick rain, which would probably have been just fine, if not accompanied by howling lateral winds. Which it was. The grommets--cleverly placed to drain rain into the flower boxes on the balcony--turned into water jets, which, with the wind, were aimed precisely at us. The waiter apologized profusely, moved all of us indoors in a quick and efficient manner, and brought us new appetizers. In the shuffle, we thought we'd better just enjoy our meal and be happy that we were indoors, and not soaked to the bone. I did take notes, though. You saw this coming, I know. 

Mike started with lobster cognac soup, and I had white tomato soup that was really more like cream- and-cheese soup with a splash of tomato. (This is my favorite kind of tomato.) Then we moved on to my Scottish salmon on top of yellow beans and sugar peas with black cherry prosecco sauce and potatoes, and Mike's veal with vegetables and a curried baked potato. We finished with my semolina custard with rhubarb lime ice cream and a toffee-almond cookie-thing (it was an arch over the rest of the dish...), and Mike's Toblerone mousse with nectarine ragout and cocoa crunch crumbles.

And then, when we were stuffed full and thought we were finished, out came this.

A plate with three kinds of fruit-filled white cake (apricot, rhubarb, raspberry) and decorated with a sparkler and the words "Alles Gute zum 9. Hochzeitstag" ("everything good for your 9th anniversary"). Just delightful. And, on our way out the door, as an apology for "the circumstances" (i.e., the insane rain storm), they gave us each a wee box of delicious chocolates. (I know they were  delicious, 'cause I ate mine almost immediately. Mike promptly forgot about his.)

Lovely dinner, lovely flowers, lovely anniversary.

P.P.S. - On a completely and totally unrelated note, I forgot a few snaps that I took while were home for my sister's wedding...felt like I should share a few of the wonders of New Mexico. 

Behold, chiles at the farmer's market store. This is also the same wonderland whence cometh our 20-pound bags of clean, rock-free, delicious pinto beans.

Layers of mesas and mountains. Tons of open blue sky. This place is parched and wild and just gorgeous. I love it.

Seriously, this time the Matterhorn is up next.

holy tornado.

What a month. I have so many things to tell you, and I am so ridiculously far behind! Let's go back in time, shall we, to a sunny little month called June. Or at least, it was sunny in Bellinzona...which, for those of you unfamiliar with the geographic and linguistic nuttiness that is Switzerland, is in Ticino, the Italian-speaking southernmost canton of our fair adoptive country. The first time we passed through Bellinzona was by train, on a trip further south into Ticino, and I distinctly remember being utterly dazzled by the fact that there were CASTLES ALL OVER THIS CITY. As it turned out, there are no fewer than three castles in Bellinzona, and old castle walls everywhere, all of which contribute to the city's presence on the UNESCO world heritage list. It certainly doesn't hurt that Bellinzona has a darling little old town, too. We hopped on the bike and rode down Friday evening, spent all day Saturday roaming the streets and visiting castles, then headed back to Zürich on Sunday morning.

Piazza Collegiata, the main square. Apparently, Saturday is market day.      

Flower box on the town hall (1920s reconstruction of original building dating as far back as the 1400s.)

It just so happened the Civica Filarmonica di Bellinzona was playing a free concert in the town hall courtyard this particular weekend. They were GOOD.

The galleries, from the top floor.

A bit of the remaining14th-century town walls (which originally stretched across the entire valley in which Bellinzona is located).

View of castles 2 (Montebello) and 3 (Sasso Corbaro), from the walls of castle 1 (Castelgrande, on a big rocky hill in the middle of town).

The vineyards and city wall attached to Castelgrande (15th century).

Castlegrande, from the city wall. The original defensive settlement here dates back to prehistoric times.

Actual working drawbridge in castle no. 2, Montebello (late 13th century.).

Interior courtyard of Montebello.

View from exterior walls, looking in.

The approach to Montebello. (The green fencing is around a vineyard, naturally.)

View of Castelgrande (left) and Montebello (right) from Sasso Corbaro, the castle built furthest up the mountain.

View over the small, square courtyard of Sasso Corbaro (late 15th century) from its highest tower.

The valley, from Sasso Corbaro's tower.

The vaunted tower.

Sala Emma Poglia (17th century). The eggs are from "A Castle of...Eggs," an exhibition (ahem...eggs-hibition) currently running in the castle.

Every time we've stopped in Ticino for any length of time, I find myself disappointed both by the high prices (yup, we're still in Switzerland!) and the low standards for food. (The Ticinese share a border and a language with Italy...they should get good food and good coffee, in my humble opinion...! But alas, no.) Friday night we arrived a little bit late, so our only option was some truly forgettable pizza, accompanied by terrible service. I actually don't remember what we ate on Saturday during the day, but our meal Saturday evening was surprisingly awesome. We debated several places for dinner, only to end up in the courtyard of Piazzetta, a rather uninspiring-looking sports bar broadcasting the Euro Cup. Turns out, however, that their house-made pastas and sauces were FANTASTIC. I had fettuccine all'amatriciana, which is basically tomato sauce with loads of bacon and onions (yum), and Mike had this delicious Calabrese-style pasta with strips of spicy salami, onion, garlic, tomato, and loads of red chile flakes. Nice and spicy, with tons of flavor. (I've been looking for a recipe for something comparable ever since, it was that good.) We sat in the courtyard, eating our tasty pastas, watching a little soccer, enjoying the cooler temperatures as the sun went down, and finished off the evening with some sort of red berry sorbet drenched in prosecco (very refreshing, and not too heavy, after all that pasta). The waitresses spoke very good English and were delightful; it was truly pleasant experience all around. Bellinzona: you still pay Swiss prices, but there is some decent food, and THREE CASTLES, MAN.

What I'm reading: finished off The Historian, which I truly loved, again. It's fairly lengthy, but in a good way, as in a you-don't-want-it-to-end kind of way. Sigh. Now I'm working on A Moveable Feast--no, not the Ernest Hemingway novel, a similarly-titled collection of essays on food, written by travel writers. As you know, I love food, and I love travel, so it's an ideal combination. What's interesting about it is that the essays revolve primarily around memorable travel experiences related to food, which is a concept that resonates strongly with me. Food can be so evocative of time and place, and it's so central to experiencing culture...one can create some fine memories over food, and I can truly appreciate that. (And the eating part.)

My favorite things: homemade pasta. Mike is currently preparing to whip up some spaghetti to accompany our stuffed chicken this evening, and it is going to be delish. While I will certainly admit to using dried pasta (or even the fresh stuff you can buy pre-packaged at the grocery store, if I'm feeling indulgent) in my own cooking--it's so much faster! and easier! it's almost as good!--there is absolutely something about fresh, homemade pasta that cannot be beat. Especially if it's someone else in the kitchen who's making it. (Full disclosure: we have a Kitchenaid attachment that does the rolling-out and the cutting for us...all we really have to do is assemble the ingredients and feed the seemingly-endless balls of dough through the roller. And then the cutter. And then cook them, but only for like 2 minutes.)

Up next: a fabulous, fantastic trip to Zermatt, home of the Matterhorn. And then a month's worth of travels with Mom and Dad. Not kidding. You kids got some reading to do.