Passing, of course, as one does in France, a marvelous-looking chocolate store, this one featuring these hilariously lifelike "potatoes" made of dark chocolate, candied cherries, and marzipan. Because I don't speak French and am, in general, a shy person and cowardly about speaking to strangers, I was a total idiot and did not purchase any. (Those "chestnuts" on the same tray looked pretty awesome, as well.)
Fun fact: the center of the historic district is actually on an island (the Grand Île), created by the River Ill on one side and a canal on the other, and it's all ridiculously scenic.
Strasbourg is packed with these terribly charming little alleyways. (The kind my imagination conjures up when I think "France.)
Nifty Art Nouveau building on the Rue Brulee.
Oh hello there, cathedral. You kids know I've seen a lot of these, but I think this one is quite special. It's asymmetrical (only got one tower!), positively aswim in varied and storied statuary, and utterly huge. (Its spire made it the tallest building in the world into the late 19th century.) Not to mention that while it's famed for its Gothic style (the spire was completed in 1439), portions of the oldest phase of construction (Romanesque, begun in the 12th century) have been well preserved.
Dad and I caught an early dinner at Chez Yvonne, a traditional Alsatian restaurant just around the corner from the cathedral. We shared starters of radishes and salted butter and a plate of escargot, and then I had the choucroute aux poisson (a slab of pike perch with a massive pile of excellent sauerkraut) and Dad went for the "stuffed back of piglet" (basically, a slice of pork slathered with a pork/herb mix and rolled up) with roasted potatoes. It was a pile of food, sure, but all really good.
And then after dinner, the sun came out a little and hit the cathedral as it was setting. Sheesh. It's a freaking postcard.
The last time I was in Strasbourg, I don't remember it being this crazy-atmospheric at night. Somebody really figured out how to light this place, and it's pretty exceptional. (Here, the part of the center known as Petit France. Both Colmar and Strasbourg are famed for their half-timbered buildings.)
The Ponts Couverts, a series of towers and bridges built for the city's defense in the 13th century. (The roofs over the bridges were removed in the 18th, but the name ["covered bridges] stuck.)
The Ponts Couverts (here, just out of sight on the right) were more-or-less made obsolete with the construction of the Barrage Vauban (left) in the late 17th century. This thing, also called "the Great Lock," was designed to allow for the flooding of the southern portion of the city as a defense against invasion. (Reminds me of how they built all the suburbs around Riga in wood, so that they could burn them in case of invasion. Strasbourg's defenders actually used the Barrage's flood mechanism in 1870 during an eventually-successful siege of the city by the Prussians. Sorry, suburbanites, but we're saving the center...)
Ponts Couverts from the side of the Barrage Vauban. (See what I mean about the lighting?? So cool.)
Day 2 in Strasbourg began with a stunningly good coffee at Cafe Bretelles (serving up, in my experience thus far, hands-down the best cappuccino in France) followed by the best croissant I've ever had (how can it be so light, and still so buttery??) and a rather tasty (if cold--we ate on the go) Quiche Lorraine from the Woerle patisserie. And then we were off to the cathedral to check out its insides for just a bit...
...obligatory nave shot...
...before we got kicked out for noontime services. Never fear, however! There was the matter of a Reformation church to attend to.
That tower down there is St. Thomas' Lutheran church, built between the 12th and early 16th centuries, and where Martin Bucer (a German Reformer, and, of course, a figure with whom Dad is quite familiar; see the entirety of his trip to Europe in 2012, starting here) was pastor from 1531 to 1540.
Architecturally-speaking, it's something of a rarity...
...since it is a Hallenkirche, a style of church which can have up to five naves, and of which there aren't many in France.
For being a rather smallish and non-touristy church, this place is packed with interesting relics, like this rather disturbing tombstone depicting the decaying corpse of Nikolaus Roeder von Tiersburg, a city patron who died in 1510.
There's also the sarcophagus of Bishop Adelochus, made in 1130 to commemorate the man who rebuilt the original church--built here in the 7th century by Irish monks!--around the year 820. (His name is the first word carved into the lid at the top left.)
This thing is spectacular, and just sitting on a table in the middle of this church, where weirdos obsessed with ancient relics (like myself) can get up nice and close and ogle.
In rather startling contrast to the modest, education- and church-related burials here is the huge mausoleum of Marshall Maurice de Saxe, commissioned by Louis XV himself and placed here in 1777, right behind the altar. (Interestingly enough, this martial monument became a symbol of Lutheranism and Reform within then-Catholic France, of which it became a part in 1684.)
And finally, there's the Silbermann organ, installed in 1741; played by Mozart in 1778; and saved from destruction in 1906 by Albert Schweitzer (!), who also hosted concerts here to raise money for his hospitals in Africa.
After wandering through Petit France a bit...
...we headed to lunch at S'Kaechele, a tiny little place where we each had a soup (asparagus cream with chorizo for me, and French onion with Muenster for Dad) and shared a salmon crepe with cream cheese and chives, all very tasty. The lady waiting on us, whom I believe was the owner, was the nicest ever, and was very quick to explain to us that the shouting and explosions and bell-clanging that we were hearing in the distance were, in fact, French train workers on strike. For a bit, Dad and I followed the very small, rather ragtag band of strikers (maybe 20-30 people?), all wearing their yellow safety vests and carrying posters and accompanied by a ridiculously-oversized police escort, and listened to them holler and clang their bells and occasionally stop to set off firecrackers (which were alarmingly loud at first, but became increasingly unimpressive as a rainstorm set in and everything fizzled, heh). As strike demonstrations go, it was a bit underwhelming, but Dad got a kick out of it, and we followed them (perhaps we might have been snickering a bit) until we reached the point at which we turned off to go see the cathedral interior again, in full this time.
Three levels of stained glass.
These arches line the nave walls at the floor level, and from what I could tell, each column capital was unique.
The crazy-elaborate pulpit...
...with these little figures holding up one of its sides. (That date is 1487.)
On occasion, one might spot a carving such as this behind those arches along the nave walls; this one mentions something about the years 1312 to 1317, maybe...?
Dad wanted to climb the cathedral tower, and while I generally decline these sorts of activities (I get something closely akin to motion sickness in those stupidly narrow stone spiral-staircase towers), I decided to go for it, and boy, am I glad I did. The tower was well punctuated with windows, from which the views on the way up were astonishing; we got to see tons of little hidden sculptures, as well as get a much better view of the gargoyles (loooove!) and of those spectacular buttresses.
And at the viewing platform at the near-top--one can't climb all the way to the point of the spire--the walls of the remaining portion of the tower are covered in graffiti from stoneworkers across various centuries.
It's beautiful and astonishing.
Oh yeah, and did I mention the city views? I was rather distracted by the graffiti. I wished I'd really brought the big camera, and had hours to spend up there, but as it was beginning to rain and my phone battery was dying, it was time to head back down.
Where, in light of the rain, we decided to hop aboard one of the many tourist boats plying the city's waters for a tour around the Grand Île, Neustadt (the German-imperial part of the city, built in the late 19th and early 20th centuries), and the European Quarter (the modern complexes built after Strasbourg's selection as the seat of the European Parliament in 1949).
The tour has quite a nice little audio narration, actually, and one gets to see the Ponts Couverts from the water. Neat.
After our boat tour, we did a teensy bit of souvenir shopping (and I bought a sweatshirt--the one I'm wearing right now, actually--because everywhere is colder than I expect it to be) and then called an audible and stopped in at the quaint and warm Le Thomasien for dinner. (For a place located in the heart of the tourist district, it was shockingly empty, but I'm guessing the tourist crowds came by bus during the day and left well before dinner.) We split another order of escargot--these snails were cooked with cream and chives, instead of the usual butter/garlic combo, but were also super tasty!--and then Dad went with this utterly decadent "Raclette Rösti" featuring ham, bacon, Emmentaler, and Gruyere, and I had a massive salad with feta, grilled chicken, tomato sauce, tomatoes, and cucumbers. I talked Dad into getting the Cafe Gourmand for dessert--this one came with a tiny portion each of creme brulee, tiramisu, and apple tart--and I went for strawberry sorbet topped with what turned out to be about a cup of strawberry eau de vie. The service was lovely and the food delicious; here's hoping Le Thomasien gets more business than they had on the night we were there, because it's a cozy and delicious place.
The next morning, we concluded our Strasbourg sojourn by making a mad dash for the train back to Zürich, which was operating on a reduced schedule thanks to the strike. (But hey, at least they publish which days they'll be on strike, so you know what you're in for and can plan around it! We did not, but didn't really have a problem anyway.) A few days later, Mike and I bid fond farewell to Dad, and then a few days after that, headed to Piemonte to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary. (June was action-packed. And also, we're old.)
On our way to our first hotel, stopped at Grinzane Cavour for a castle photo.
Dinner on our first evening was at the always-fantastic Trattoria del Bivio, where we were introduced to Alta Langa sparkling wine (yummmm) alongside our starters of pasta with sausage ragout for Mike, and rabbit salad with hazelnuts, pomegranate, and egg sauce for me. Mike went for crispy pork with veggies for his main, and I went with some incredible, feather-light, potato-and-spelt gnocchi with fresh tomatoes and asparagus. Del Bivio is magnificent, people, and I am positive that all future visits to the Piedmont will include a visit there.
The next day was our official anniversary, and naturally, we had reservations at Gemma's for lunch.
We took a different route there this time, and found ourselves in Monforte d'Alba, at the center of which is the striking Madonna della Neve, built in the early 20th century.
Which explains the gorgeous and rather Art Nouveau-y (excuse me, Stile Liberty) interior.
Naaaaaaaaave. (And check out that amazing ceiling.)
And then...lunch. I had meant to take a photograph of every course at Gemma's, something we've never successfully done in all our years of eating there, and I was doing sorta all right, but then drank some of the house wine (a little sparkly this day!); promptly forgot about photos at the second pasta course; and ended up with some unappetizing pictures of half-empty, rather smeary plates. I then threw in the towel. Here's a few I didn't screw up, though.
Gemma's!
The only raw beef I'll eat, anywhere in the world. The fassone at Gemma's is the featheriest, most delicious thing ever, and we always eat it all.
Hands-down, Gemma makes the best tajarin with ragu anywhere. (I'm not joking. Between Mike and I, we've eaten kilos of various thin-noodles-with-Bolognese-like sauces, all over Italy, and this. is. the. best.)
Dessert! Upper left is bunet (this weird coffee-hazelnut-custard thing that's very typical of the region); right is chocolate cake (first time we've had this here, and tasty, but nowhere near as good as the almost-savory apple strudel they usually have); and bottom is this unbelievably great frozen-meringue thing topped with whipped cream, hazelnuts, and more crunchy meringue.
The view from Roddino. Not shabby.
Happy anniversary to us, I say: I think we found the perfect way to celebrate our 15 years together.
In the afternoon, we stopped by Elio Altare to pick up a few great bottles of wine; grabbed some meats 'n cheeses at a local mini-mart; and parked ourselves on the balcony of our hotel to enjoy the view from Grinzane Cavour.
Yeah...I could get used to this. Very, very easily.
The next day, we did something entirely out of the ordinary: we went and checked out a couple of properties in the countryside near Asti. For several years now, we've drooled over the possibility of maybe someday, someday owning a little something in Piemonte, and so we decided, as a fun thing to do for our big anniversary trip, that we'd go see a couple of places. No purchases were made on this particular day, but it was fun to see what was out there and to fantasize about maybe living there someday. 'Cause you know we love it.
Post house-hunting, we headed into Torino for some good food and some general rambling about. The center of Torino is just beautiful, and it's one of my favorite cities in the world. Above, one side of Palazzo Carignano...
...and the other. I can't ever get enough of this brick facade; I probably have a hundred photos of it from over the years.
Ahhhhh, San Lorenzo, one of the most beautiful domes of all time.
Interior of the Galleria Subalpina, which houses an entire store of Liberty antiques and art. (I have a self-imposed rule that I've been in there once and now I can never, ever go in again. So many pretties on which I could break the bank!!)
Did I mention that this city is gorgeous? Ughhhh, so pretty.
Dinner on our first night in Torino was at our beloved Con Calma, where Mike had a plate of tagliatelle with fantastic ragu followed by roast beast with root-vegetable puree and a bacon-wrapped carrot, and I went for roasted-meat-filled agnolotti in a sage and butter sauce, followed by eggplant "meatballs" stuffed with cheese, in a tremendously rich tomato sauce.
And to top it all off, these grissini were warm. It was all sooooooooo good.
The next day, we met up with an old friend we hadn't seen in several years (we have a friend in Torino! woo!) for coffee and pastries at the always-delightful Perino Vesco, chatted for a good while, and then, on our way to look at an apartment for purchase in the city (be still my heart), stopped for a bicerin at Cafe al Bicerin, the place where the city's famous coffee-chocolate-cream drink was invented, and where they've been serving it since 1763. And just wow--the original is most certainly the best.
Cafe al Bicerin is located on the lovely Piazza della Consolata, where one finds this very round 18th-century church, the Santuario della Consolata, alongside its 10th-century bell tower.*
Eeeee, it's just so bubbly.
As it happened, the apartment we checked out was smack in the middle of a neighborhood full of incredible Liberty buildings...
...and the apartment itself was in a building guarded by dragons, I kid you not. Even though we saw it with our own eyeses, it's still difficult for me to believe that it's possible to live in a building like this, in a gorgeous, largeish, high-ceilinged, stained-glass-windowed apartment that's not quiiiiiiiite finished. (Ok, so, its bathrooms and kitchen were entirely empty and unfinished, and the flooring and most light fixtures were missing in action, but srsly, that apartment had the potential to be insanely beautiful. I think, however, that we figured out here that our lifestyle is much more suited to modern spaces, sigh. The history major and architecture nerd in me was giddy over this building.)
Just look at it. People live in there!! Lucky, lucky people with excellent taste.
Walking back into the center.
Spotted this in a market, heh.**
Ohhhhh, Piazza San Carlo, you make my heart sing.
Spotted some knights on horseback on our way back towards our hotel, and then some more, and then followed them to a big parade complete with fife-and-drum corps and all sorts of medieval-garbed folk marching through the streets. Turned out to be the Festa di San Giovanni, the city's annual celebration of its patron saint. (Apparently, there were also fireworks, bonfires, and a coordinated drone routine over the city at some point in time, but we missed all of that, and I'm not just a little disappointed. But hey, mounted knights wearing actual chainmail: you don't see that every day.) (And also, pardon my terrible quasi-Photoshopping of the shot above. It was either attempt to remove some guys from behind the horse, or cut off the horse's head entirely from the photo. And I liked the horse better.)
I gotta say, I love what Lego is doing in some of its stores. In Milano, we saw a Lego replica of the duomo; here, it's the Mole Antonelliana. Clever.
We decided to splurge a bit on our final night in town and had dinner at Del Cambio, in a building that has contained a restaurant and shop since 1757. It's very old-school and very proper, with waiters in vests and bowties and lots of bowing and "Right this way"-ing. And while the food was excellent--it has a Michelin star, after all--and the view inarguably wonderful (Palazzo Carignano!!), I have to say that I don't think I'd go back. It was nice for a one-off, fancy evening, but one visit is enough. I'd rather go someplace more homey, with simpler and more traditional food. That having been said, the stand-out plate of the evening for me was this plate strewn with very fine green beans, wee piles of tiny caviar, dots of grainy mustard, the smallest of baby lettuce leaves, and a very savory gelee of some kind. (I know they told me what it all was, but as we had the chef's-choice tasting menu, there was no written version of what we ate, so you get my very humble and confused description. All was quite good, though.)
The amuse bouche. Very tasty, very colorful.
The view from dinner. After which we got a tour of the premises, ending in the little attached shop (once a pharmacy, now a gorgeous little pastry/take-away/cafe), where we received a bag of the best gianduotti I've had in my life.
The next morning, we grabbed a cappuccino and pastry on Piazza San Carlo, hopped back in our rental, and headed home. All in all, a lovely, delicious, and amazing way to spend our anniversary, in one of our favorite places in the world.
Up next, someday far, far in the future: our first visit to Copenhagen! Oh man, do those people eat well...
*And inside, the church houses a large collection of old ex-voto (thanksgiving) offerings brought to the church in the event of an unexpected healing, survival of a dangerous situation, or a request answered. These offerings can consist of items made of silver (very commonly, hearts, but at Consolata there are also model airplanes and ships); military items (Consolata has a great number of epaulettes in glass cases!); and--unique to this place, in my experience--a large collection of hand-drawn illustrations of the situations for which the offerings are being made (e.g., survival of war; automobile accidents; illnesses; incidents both in the home and at work; etc., etc., etc.). It's fascinating.
**I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but the most recognizable landmark of Torino is the Mole Antonelliana, originally intended to be a synagogue, and now serving as the Museo Nazionale del Cinema--and it also has an elevator to a viewing platform waaaay up in that 550-ft/167.5-m spire, from which--if it's not cloudy--the views are unbelievable. In Italian, "Mole" is pronounced (roughly) as moe-LAY, so "Mole Cola" is four syllables, giving the city's knock-off Coke brand a name that's fun to say. (Plus, that graphic...! Clever.)
