Autumn

As I write this, the snow is melting in Katoomba after my town experienced its second October snow-storm in three years. (Last year the Blue Mountains were devastated by bushfires.)
In Austria yesterday, it was sunny and 20 degrees.
I love autumn. The weather is usually pretty stable with some 'Indian summer' days thrown in to keep us happy until winter makes its bleak appearance. I never paid much attention to seasons until we moved to Katoomba - now we follow the daily weather forecast with fingers, toes and eyes crossed.

Early last year, Steven tried to talk me into a cycling trip in Europe. I was having none of it! Wearing lycra every day and climbing hills just didn't seem like my idea of fun. Then he explained to me that we would be riding on flat bitumen paths with no scary cars and trucks, and would be cruising at castle-on-a-hill viewing pace...about 16km per hour. There would be lots of food and drinks. Sold.
We started in Ulm in May 2013 and got as far as Ardagger Markt, a small village not far from Linz. For dinner, we ate asparagus and drank pear cider in our hotel and chatted to the owner about how dreadful the weather had been - rain every day for two weeks, except for a sunny day we spent in beautiful Passau. Over breakfast the next morning, he informed us that the river was in flood, and our cycle path was inundated and unrideable. Steven came up with the brilliant idea of catching a train to Bratislava so that we could wait out the rain, and complete our trip backwards. Unfortunately, that flood caught us and was the worst in hundreds of years, and Passau in particular was ravaged by its three rivers.
We got back on the train, and headed for the canals of France instead.

A few days ago, we completed a cycle from St Malo to Prague - a not to be sneezed at 2515km through France, Belgium, The Netherlands, Germany and the Czech Republic. We celebrated and patted each other on the back and planned our next adventure.
We rested and ate well in Prague and spent a couple of days in Tabor and Cesky  Krumlov where we cycled and ate cake with Lois, a fellow Australian who is cycling around the world.
 www.cyclingsolowithlois.com.au 

For the last few weeks, we've noticed decorations including pumpkins, sunflowers and apples appearing in shop windows. The trees are turning, and the day doesn't really begin until late morning when the sun melts away the mist. Restaurants are including seasonal ingredients in their menus; apples, pears and nuts fall onto the cycle paths and we've seen a few onion festivals.
Two of my favourite autumn consumables are often sold as a delicious set - Zwiebelkuchen and Federweisser. Zwiebelkuchen comes mostly in two variations: similar to an onion quiche (thick, slightly sweet and juicy) or onion and bacon pizza-ish (crispy and savoury). I prefer the quiche.
The first time I ordered Federweisser, I didn't actually know what I was drinking. I thought it was slightly fizzy, alcoholic cloudy apple juice. It is actually young wine, and is dangerously drinkable and very refreshing. A red version is also available, but I didn't like it - a bit too much like red cordial for my taste!


Now we're back on the Danube, and I'm thoroughly enjoying the relaxed cycling. I'm going to try and stay in the hardest gear so I don't lose whatever muscle-tone I developed on those accursed Czech hills. We hope to make it to Budapest, where I am heading straight for the famous bath-house where I can soak and then have my knots pummelled by a hefty Hungarian.

Filling the gaps in France, The Netherlands and Germany.

Early Sunday morning and the rain falls softly as we make our way out of Dusseldorf. Our arrival yesterday was not pretty - we took a nasty turn around "not noice Neuss" and ended up in an industrial area, totally lost and confused. After finally finding civilisation and our hotel, we showered and washed out the lycra, then searched for beer. It was only 3.30 or so, but what the heck. Apparently you have to drink 'Altbier' in Dusseldorf, and Krolsch in Koln. Okey dokely. Dinner followed shortly after the beer/s. (Vegans and vegetarians proceed at your own risk.) The only offal I like is liver, so I ordered calf's liver with sage butter, mashed potatoes and sugared carrots. The liver was meltingly tender and I could feel my iron levels rising as I cleaned the plate. Steven chose the inelegant pork knuckle, a mighty meal for a mighty cyclist! So much crackling and pork fat on one plate! Sauerkraut and baked potatoes were hidden underneath. Only bones were left behind.
But it is another day, and I ruminate about salad as we amble along bitumen bike paths towards Koln. A punt takes us across river to Zons, a small medieval walled town with a bustling artisan market and a cafe serving waffles with warm cherries and cream to wet, chilly cyclists.
Dinner? A tasting plate for me of pork, smoked pork, speck and blood sausage served with mashed potatoes, and for Steven - soorbroode (marinated roast beef) with dumplings, apple sauce and sauerkraut. Washed down with Krolsch.
I will have some kind of green food tomorrow.
And what of Dutch food, I hear you ask? We quizzed a Dutch farmer and even he couldn't give a clear answer. He suggested meat served with potatoes mashed up with cabbage. In the week we were there, I ate several variations on salad with nuts and cheese. All delicious. Everything seemed to come with chips, but that's the way of the world these days, and they are close to Belgium after all.
Best meal in France? I would choose the oyster entree I had in Ouistreham. So fresh and so salty. I don't often eat oysters, as they're so expensive at home, so they were a real treat.
The worst...my own fault. We had two particularly long days in the saddle and on both occasions, our b and b was about 2km from the nearest town. My knees wouldn't allow me to get back on the bike so we dialled for pizza. Again, something we never would do at home, and they deliver beer and wine, so it was kind of a treat too!
Tomorrow, we'll be in Bad Breisig, a spa town, so maybe I'll be inspired to eat less indulgently.

Normandy

Normandy wakes slowly, mist hovering low, dew heavy in the fields and sunrays shining through the trees. We are fortified by a classic French breakfast: crispy baguette with butter and jams, flaky but chewy croissant, yoghurt, juice, fruit and coffee, and are enjoying the quiet of a 7.30 start to today's 90 km cycle. Our destination is Saint-Lo, via Vire.

Last night we stayed at a basic but charming hotel run by a friendly, enthusiastic couple. Dinner was delightful; three courses for E13 (AUD $17). We helped ourselves to the buffet for entree, I spotted the celeriac remoulade just like the version my dear friend Min taught me how to make twenty years ago and added a huge portion to my plate. Determined to get more vegetables into my system, I also piled on grated carrot, fresh beetroot, cornichons and salami (not a vegetable...). Main course was fish  fillet with green beans (the beans were much tastier than the fish!) and dessert was fromage blanc, that delightful white creamy/yoghurty fresh cheese made sweet with the addition of a large sprinkle of sugar. Yum. 

Yesterday we had moules frites for lunch near Mont St Michel after an easy 70km ride. Min also taught me the proper way to eat mussels many years ago: use an empty shell as pincers to prise them out.

Anyway, back to the riding. Some of the bike routes have actually been quiet back roads, some beside a river, but my favourite is the dark tunnels of canopied trees above a path which once felt the weight of locomotives. Reclaimed train lines are perfect for cycling. So peaceful. 

Today started well, zipping along at a cracking pace, then just as I'd burned off all that breakfast and needed a top-up, we arrived in Vire for morning tea. Unfortunately, the centre of town was at the top of a very large hill, so three-quarters of the way up, Beautiful Husband let me have a breather while he climbed to buy pastries and coca-cola to give me a sugar/caffeine hit, and a 5 cereal baguette and Normandy raw milk camembert for lunch. After getting a bit lost and ending up on very hilly D roads, (busy with large trucks steered by drivers who were very considerate to a hungry, puffing middle-aged woman) we sat in a bus shelter and enjoyed our dejeuner.

After a few more hills, I was flagging again, so BH popped into a boulangerie and returned with a cold, sweet coffee eclair. What a man!!!

Tonight, we eat Italian, as there is nothing else close to our hotel, and I am not getting on the bike again until tomorrow. All those carbs will come in handy.

Jenny, Craig and gluttony.

I think the number one requirement of a food blogger is a willingness to step outside the comfort zone, at least ocasionally. I did that in 2010, and over a few months ate quite a lot of weird stuff, washed down with buckets of Rose.
We arrived in Paris yesterday morning, picked up a hire car and headed off to Briare to collect our bikes, Jenny and Craig. They were nestled cosily together in the loft of a barn, until they were lowered down inelegantly with ropes. We dusted off the cobwebs and threw them inelegantly into the back of the car. The b&b attached to the farm was unfortunately booked out, so we wandered through a few back roads, wondering where to spend our first night. Lunch was a pique-nique of baguette, goats cheese and pate de campagne by the Loire River at Gien. Several thousand traffic lights and slow drivers later, we detoured on the freeway and into our beloved roadhouse chain, Autogrill. Being of Italian descent, the coffee is much better than French swill, and after a pain au chocolat and cafe noisette each the jet-lag fog started to lift.
We arrived at the Office de Tourisme at Amboise just before closing on Saturday night, and scored the last vacant room in town, full to the brim with cycling tourists who must have read "Baguettes and Bicycles" and guests from a huge wedding. A plunger coffee and a vanilla slice in a touristy Salon de The filled whatever small space was left after lunch. As it was the last weekend of summer, the French were returning from their holidays, tanned but sad to be packing the espadrilles away for another year.
Amboise is famous for its stately chateau overlooking the town, which overlooks the Loire River, with its sandy banks and traditional flat-bottomed boats. We wandered around trying to decide where to eat and chose the restaurant next door to our hotel, and ordered the €22 two course special, our favourite option as one of us gets entree and a main and the other a main and dessert and then we share it all. Gluttony on a budget!
I just couldn't bring myself to order the eel, the regional specialty. Not because it was eel, I'm sure they are quite delicious (albeit bloody ugly); but because it was served with sturgeon in satay sauce. Mmm, no. Trust me, the rest of the meal was really good: we shared fish tartare with beefsteak tomatoes for entree, chicken stuffed with stuff...."how many glasses of Rose did you have?", fillet of pork confit with buttery mashed potatoes, and a three cheese platter (cow, goat and sheep) for dessert. All artfully plated, properly proportioned and accompanied by sourdough bread.
Yes, food bloggers should be adventurous and I will try the eel next time.
Promise.

Cave girl on a bike..

I was pretty excited about breakfast this morning, as our hotel was a much better standard than we're used to. I wasn't disappointed, and stuck to my dietary principles very well. A huge bowl of fruit salad, yoghurt and sunflower seeds, followed by a little smorgasbord of smoked salmon, raw and cooked ham, goat's cheese, camembert, cucumber and cherry tomatoes. Luxury! That really should have been enough to last until lunch.
We set off, the weather being kind but cool. I was delighted by the bike track, surrounded by luscious green trees, a smooth path and birdies singing gently to us. Oh, how I miss those raucous cockatoos waking me every morning! I'm not terribly good at flora and fauna, but there were pretty purple flowers ready to open into full bloom dotting the verges...maybe bluebells? We could also see the spire of Ulm Munster church, not too difficult as it's the biggest steeple in the world.
Soon, we came across other cyclists, a man with an impressive grey moustache, panniers and a bundle which probably contained a tent, an older couple who we stalked for a while as they had a map and could speak English (they also had large panniers), and a young family on two bikes and a baby trailer. The baby was probably around a year old, and looked incredibly cute bundled up all toasty warm being towed along in a perspex cocoon by dad.
Morning tea beckoned so we stopped in a tiny village bakery, only about an hour after we left Ulm. All that riding on smooth flat bike paths can work up an appetite! I was going to eat my pilfered apple from the hotel and the sunflower seeds I'd bought yesterday, but they had really nice looking nut-filled pastries with icing sugar on top. It would have been rude not to have one, especially as the owner let me use the toilet when I pulled a sad face at her initial denial of my request.
Onwards along the Donau to Gunzburg (home of Josef Mengele) for lunch and a perfect tuna salad. Sixty km later, we trundled into Lauringen, where I experienced my first flat tyre (on my first day of riding). Steven admits he's not the world's best bike mechanic, but he fixed it in a few minutes. Luckily we were only a short distance from our hotel, so if he hadn't been so handy, I probably could have wheeled it to the nearest bike shop (there were three within 1km of each other).
It was a great day of beautiful cycling on dedicated bike paths with interesting towns along the way and a massive, lovely meal of salad, veges and pork with mushrooms and cheese for dinner. So aside from my morning tea, I'd give my willpower a score of 8 today. And boy, my tummy is feeling a whole lot better already.
Tonight it's raining, the lycra is drying on the heaters, and hopefully the sun will come out in the morning.

Cave-girl on a bike

We're back in Europe again, and I've been waiting patiently for the motivation to add to this blog. It finally hit last night, after a month of eating myself into digestive disorder territory. Our trip started in France, with a five course table d'hote meal, quickly followed by a visit to a Bouchon Lyonnaise for lunch, where we sat in stunned silence as the elderly couple at the next table tucked into half a calf's head each while their teenage grandson delighted in his plate of tripe.
On to Italy, from Piedmont to Sicily to Bologna. Pizza, pasta, seafood, and many meals containing pig. And cake for breakfast every day.

To put it into context, for the past year or so (due to a health scare) I've been trying hard to be a cave-girl. I found that eating in the Primal/Paleo style suited me by relaxing the digestive issues I have been suffering with for nearly 30 years, and providing me with more stamina.
I realised with our planned bike-ride from Ulm to Bratislava, I should be able to stick to the Primal guidelines pretty well. The Germans typically provide breakfast of yoghurt, muesli, bread, ham, cheese, eggs and fruit. Except for the muesli and bread, perfect Primal. Dinner should be easy enough as long as I can recall enough high-school German to read a menu. Lunch and morning and afternoon tea will be challenging, especially as I'll need to gather enough fuel to ride 35-85 km per day.
Today was pretty good, and it was just a driving day to our starting town of Ulm. Yoghurt, cheese, ham, cucumber and an apple for breakfast. A banana and sunflower seeds for morning tea. Warm processed pork on a white bread roll for lunch had me worried, but then dinner of greek salad and a mixed grill made me feel somewhat redeemed. A day of lots of veges, a little fruit and plenty of protein. Sure, contrary to Paleo guidelines the meats wouldn't have been free-range and grass-fed, which  bothers me, but I just can't go back to vegetarianism - I did it for 10 years and campaigned actively for animal welfare, but my health suffered too much.
I'm nervous and excited about setting off tomorrow with a ridiculously small amount of clothing in Beautiful Husband's panniers, but also hoping I can avoid too many meals of schnitzel and fries!

Slippery little suckers.

The children made me do it. I use that excuse a lot, but usually it relates to my own children.

We walked into the little bar on a cliff on the coast near Sintra, Portugal, looking forward to dinner after a big day of custard tart eating in Lisbon. The family of four at the next table were tucking into a couple of very large bowls of teeny, tiny snails. Steven wanted to try them. I wasn’t so sure, but then if the six and eight year olds at the next table could demolish that many of the little slime-bags and suck the shells dry, I wasn’t going to be shown up as some kind of English Tourist Wuss.
We ordered a half-serve.
The little feelers were still visible as we dragged them from their homes with toothpicks.
Steven described them as hot, soft pistachio nuts. More-ish. Can’t stop at one. He ate sixty-seven.
They reminded me of when I was a kid, and I hate to admit it, but I picked my nose and ate the result. Well, all the other kids did it…. didn’t they?????
I ate forty-eight snails.
There were still about a hundred left on the plate.