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.

The Threshing Machine goes to a health farm!

It had to happen eventually. I suddenly got sick of food. France, you can keep your crispy crunchy baguettes and lusciously stinky cheese, Italy, I've had it with your roast meats with aromatic herbs and the less Lithuanian zeppelins are mentioned the better.
Born again, I am determined to shed the seven kilos I've gained since we arrived in Europe in March.
On arrival at Casa dos Esteios, the lady of the house greeted us warmly, introduced us to Daniella, a hospitality student, and offered us afternoon tea of juice and "love cookies" (bolinhos de amor, a local specialty). The B&B is set in a kiwi-fruit farm, in the village of S.Miguel de Paredes, about 45 minutes by train from Porto. Surrounded by pine trees, it is totally private, luxurious and perfect for relaxing by the pool.
Later, I said to Beautiful Husband "Why don't we treat this place like a health farm. We can swim, read, eat lightly and maybe be able to fit back into our clothes by the time we leave Europe." He agreed. He could also edit his new book and watch the world cup on the big screen television.
Breakfast on the first morning was prepared by another Daniella, and consisted of crunchy rolls, brioche, yoghurt, fresh fruit, ham, cheese, and bolinhos de amor. The next day, omelettes and sausages were added. By day four, a sponge cake (pao de lo, another regional specialty) had arrived.
Every day, we wander down to the pasteleria for a mid-morning pingoo (like a machiato, but really, really strong), and we share a pastel de nata and a whatever else takes our fancy from the luscious display.
On the day that Portugal beat North Korea by seven goals, the B&B owners generously invited us to watch the game and join them for lunch of caldo verde, Portugese chicken with pilaf, chips and salad, green wine, port and more love cookies.
We had originally booked for three nights, but by the end of lunch, asked if we could stay for five.
Steven is working hard, and watching lots of football with student Daniella (who knows more about the game than he does!). I'm trying to increase my laps of the pool by ten a day.
In our first week, we've eaten a lot of pateis de nata, and portugese chicken. We've tried to continue the original health farm idea by having a salad for dinner...
We decide to stay another week.

The Threshing Machine

My beautiful husband has been calling me the above moniker for a few weeks now. Hmph.
He'd be beyond forgiveness save for the delightful idea of bringing me to Europe.
Two years ago, we were staying in Tuscany and took a drive to Volpaia, a tiny 13th Century village near Radda in Chianti. There was a bar and one restaurant, La Bottega. It had a terrace with a view of vineyards, rolling hills, forests and a stately house or two. We looked at the menu - roast pork with herbs for E6, handmade pasta with truffles for around the same price. We ate there a few times, and declared it one of our top two favourite restaurants in the world. And vowed to come back.
So, we invited our good friends The Wynns to come and rent a house in Volpaia for a week, and join us in eating our way through the menu. The house was a three storey terrace house, E88 a night for the four of us. We could eat out every night and stay within our budget. Each day we'd excitedly ask each other what we were going to have that night. The rabbit stew or the beef in chianti? Paul decided the wild boar stew was his favourite, Belinda liked the spinach ravioli with sage butter, but Steven and I couldn't make a firm decision (we loved it all).
One day, beautiful husband and I walked for two and a half hours along a dirt track between Volpaia and Panzano. Views of forests, pencil pines, wild boar (behind a fence, so obviously domesticated wild boar!), chianti pigs, vineyards, olive groves, more stately homes. We arrived in Panzano hungry, and discovered that the famous butcher I had read so much about was open for lunch with a choice of a E10 "Mac Dario" or E20 "Welcome". As soon as we walked in the door, we were handed a glass of wine and invited to try the nibbles on a table in front of the meat display (it is a real butcher shop!). I passed on the lard on toast, but the salami was fragrant with herbs, and we sprinkled perfumed salt and olive oil on bread. Seated upstairs, we ordered the Mac - a burger with rosemary potatoes, vegetables and bread. I stabbed my burger, and for a second wondered how chef had managed to get red wine inside....
Crunchy and hot on the outside, bloody on the inside. The wine was E3 for a quarter litre, and for dessert, delicious olive oil cake and mocha coffee for E2.
A few days later we went back and shared the Welcome. Four dishes - all cold. Steak tartare (strips not mince), shredded pork, pork roast with crackling and meatloaf with red pepper sauce. The meal was fantastic. Communal tables filled with excited and delighted Italians and tourists, all gobbling up huge amounts of meat and chatting to fellow diners about how they knew about this wonderful place.
It is a unique restaurant, and Dario is a genius.

Piedmont is the new Tuscany.

Those of you who read my previous post, know that we are big fans of the chambres d’hote/B&B. We particularly enjoy them when they offer evening meals.
There is always an element of surprise – you’re never sure what you’ll get, whether you’ll be eating alone, with the hosts and/or other guests. Often the vegetables will come from their garden, and they will serve typical local food.
The meal will definitely be larger than what we are used to at home, and if we do it every night, we’ll be larger too.
Our first night in Italy was spent in a small village near Bergamo. We ate with the hosts, their English-speaking son (all artists) and a Dutch couple.
The first course arrived: spatzle made from spinach with potatoes and pork. A smallish bowl, but very tasty.
The second course was six different cheeses, radicchio and artichokes marinated in oil, salad from the garden, and bread. Followed by biscotti and dessert wine.
All delicious, but seemingly round the wrong way. We were a bit confused, so it felt a bit too light. (Considering how much food we’ve eaten this trip, that is a good thing).
The next night we ate at the local bar, which our hosts recommended.
My first course was a pasta made from pizza dough, boiled and served with sage and butter, and Steven’s was gnocchi with pork sausage and asparagus. Both very rich.
Second course was a round cheese (similar to camembert) and vegetables, all cooked on the grill, the cheese oozing over the vegetables. This is the way they do things in Lombardia. The second course is either cheese or cold cuts. No hot meat dishes.
On to Piedmont and another B&B, with dinner.
First, some sage leaves dipped in batter and deep fried. Crispy and salty, and I’m going to try cooking that at home!
Then, Fontina cheese from the nearby alps, served with our hostess Raffaela’s jam/chutney made from the last of the summer fruits (grapes, peaches, apricots), cooked for 36 hours with no sugar added. Tart and rich and spicy.
Next was tagliatelli with fresh tomatoes, parsley and garlic.
I was expecting dessert. But no.
Pork in orange sauce, accompanied by spinach salad with sheep’s cheese, pine nuts and lemon dressing.
Okay, Raffaella, I’m pretty well done.
We had almost finished the Grignolino wine when dessert arrived: fresh raspberries (the sweetest I’ve ever had) and home-made lemon sorbet.
And then a glass of Genepy, an Alpine liqueur to wash it all down.
We finished our wine standing in the garden, looking at the lights of the surrounding hill towns and the shadowy, snowy alps in the distance.

Dear Doroty

When the price of food in Poland is so ridiculously cheap by Australian standards, why wouldn't you suggest to the Beautiful Husband a restaurant recommended by no less than the Michelin guide?
After a fabulous review in "In Your Pocket", I chose Wesele in the main square of Krakow. We were presented with food menus, but no wine list. We ordered our food and asked for wine. The food and the wine arrived at the same time. Now, when my plate of goose lands, I want to tuck in straight away, not sit there like a goose waiting politely while the waiter goes through the slow process of uncorking and getting the Beautiful Husband to ensure the wine is not corked (as if he'd know anything about corked wine). By the time the food has arrived, I expect to have at least one glass of wine down my gullet! We ordered two sides, beetroot and steamed vegetables. Beetroot was yummy, vegetables were...fresh from the freezer!!!!! Excuse me, Mr Michelin, I have a quibble with your selection criteria.
And therein ends the meal. No suggestion from the waiter that we may have liked dessert. In fact, not even a glance in our direction. We sat and finished our bottle of wine and felt somewhat disappointed.
Next night, I suggest another restaurant mentioned in "In Your Pocket". The review is pretty good, although the line "slightly more ambience than a milk bar" could cause some people to look elsewhere. That would be a mistake.
The waitress (maybe the owner?) spoke perfect English even though the place was packed with locals, and helped us with our selections. I ordered pork stew ($3.47, I kid you not), buckwheat ($1.21) and beer. Beautiful Husband had chicken breast with mushrooms ($4.16) salad, french fries and two glasses of wine. Total bill $18.75. But that's not the point. The service was excellent, the meats tender, the salad fresh and tasty, the buckwheat, well, it was buckwheaty. We were happy. We'd eat there every night if we lived here.