I'm sitting in the sweltering heat as I type this. Although in terms of proximity to the equator I am only slightly south of London it feels like the Amazon rainforest - the kind of sticky heat where your skin is constantly glazed with a moist film and peeling yourself off leather upholstery is a small torture.
I've arrived in the midst of a heatwave, staying with my boyfriend Tim at his family home in Strasbourg in the Alsace region of France. He was born in America but raised here from the age of six months, and it gives me great pleasure to tell people I'm dating an Alsatian :P
Strasbourg is one of those European cities most people have heard of but - 'Oh, isn't that in Germany/Austria?'. It is in fact a French city on the German border. As a result of various historical conquests and subsequent volleying back and forth between French and German rule, it's an interesting blend of both cultures but a strong Alsatian identity prevails (mostly in the older generation but it's not unheard of to hear the Alsatian language spoken in some of the more traditional pubs). There are trilingual signs in some places!
So today I was shown around by my own native tour guide. The magic is of course, lost on Tim but to my eyes it was simply stunning. The city itself is probably the quaintest I've ever encountered - in fact it's not like a city at all. Apart from the sleek modern tram snaking its way around it's the 'provincial town' straight out of Disney's Beauty and the Beast - cutesy old timbered buildings, cobbled streets and pretty squares presided over by the imposing, gothic Strasbourg Cathedral. I felt I'd stepped back to yesteryear...could almost kid myself I could hear the clip clop of a horse-drawn cart...
'Little town...it's a quiet village...'
We stopped for lunch overlooking one of the many canals, where 'bateaux-mouches' constantly ferry tourists up and down. On the menu was typical Alsatian fare - a fusion of Francais and Deutsch - so you've got the choucroute (sauerkraut) and pork dumplings (not my cup of tea) but also onglets de boeuf and steak-hache. All a bit heavy for me on such a warm day, so I opted for a 'salade gourmande' and a glass of sweet Muscat wine. The real culinary treat came later when we went to Tim's favourite restaurant, one that caters specifically to 'tartes flambees'.
These are a delicious Alsatian version of pizza - but better. The base is as thin as a crepe, covered in all the naughtiest things you can think of - cream, lardons, onions and cheese. It's served on a big wooden board on the side of the table, you're then expected to slice it and share between your fellow diners. Inevitably the entire thing is gone in about 30 seconds, and the waiter will continue to bring more and more until you eventually say 'Stop! I have had enough! I am satisfied!' Right on cue, the dessert menu arrives and...suddenly you realise you could make a teeny bit of room somewhere in your stomach...
Needless to say, I walked out of there feeling like a blimp. Or a Michelin man. But by God, it was gastronomic heaven.
Tomorrow I've got my first go at driving in France...I fully expect to be writing my next post from la clinique...(which, by the by, is a hospital, not a place to buy makeup as I wrongly and hilariously thought on arrival...the shame!)
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