Germany, take three
Whilst goose-stepping around Traben-Trarbach with an utterly charming and elderly guide (with a rudimentary knowledge of English) we happened upon a little square with some historical significance. Fritz halted the party under a chestnut tree and proceeded explaining something when my eye was caught by a rotund little man advancing upon us. He held a tray with 5 wine glasses (the guide’s wife, Gisela, had joined us) and promptly proceeded handing drinks around. We spoke in numerous tongues about what I was doing there, who I was writing for... yackity, yackity, yack. My glass was refreshed and we yacked some more about restaurant business and Riesling wine.
It was at his restuarant my daughter, Penny-Lane, and I dined later that night.
The owner, Richard, promised an evening of local specialities which initially caused some anxiety when observing a fellow diner stabbing at something on his plate resembling boiled liver.
This was when I discovered two additional irritations I should add to my ever-increasing list of dislikes, you see when I see something standing askew or out of place my nerves cannot bear and I cannot focus until its been rectified. Last night it was the loud ticking of a clock and a heavy breather.
In between courses I mooched around the restaurant straightening all their picture frames, and when no one was looking I stopped the pendulum of the loud ticking clock and tried to ignore the breathing noises of the little pug-like man at the adjoining table. Eventually I became so distressed I asked if he needed a tissue to blow his nose. Evidently he took this as an invitation to converse and spent a good 20 minutes telling me about his grand home in North Carolina, his fabulous job, his three ex wives and how much he earns.
The food was thankfully very good. Desert though was a shock to the senses, a shock to the senses and had my eyes bulging; for a moment I thought I’d suck my face in. Ice cream, frothy heated through egg yolk, sugar, two shots of schnapps and some Riesling all poured into a tall glass. No wonder I was left gasping.
After two prearranged photo-shoots I drove home to the soothing sounds of Black Sabbath and Korn.
Saturday and Sunday I’ll write a couple of articles about this journey. Monday I’m researching my next destination and Tuesday I’m off to
Labels: Black Sabbath, Elba, Italy, Korn, Mosel Wine Route, Riesling, Simply Red, Traben Trarbach
posted by Cindy-Lou Dale @ Friday, August 03, 2007
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