It's taken me a while to come up with a paean to my beloved Brussels, mainly because it's such an easy place to live, and because so few of my readers have actually lived there.
Paris, on the other hand, provides a bold point of comparison, one much more familiar as a destination and as a city of significance. Now, on my first decent stay in the City of Light since returning to Europe in 2007, I am finding some help in telling the story.
Brussels is no Paris, in much the same way as Washington is no New York. While Paris (and New York) overwhelm with a density of world-class museums, ethnic and home-country eateries, and beloved visual landmarks, Brussels has a few showstoppers (the central Grand Place key among them) but they are delivered on a far more modest scale. Indeed, when I have visitors, I recommend that they spend their days outside Brussels in the more telegenic Brugge, Ghent ot Antwerp, unless they are true museum hounds. That much being said, I have yet to go to any Brussels museum.
Paris, of course, is a great place to visit. The shopping's world class, the museums, the landmarks, and the river, which creates breathtaking views, particularly after nightfall. The dining in Paris is superb, not only for all of the French standards, but because of the immense variety of ethnic places (I am writing this from an Afghan place on the Left Bank, having not had the cuisine de Karzai since leaving Washington in '07).
It's funny to go to Paris to eat ethnic. But in a way, that's a testament to the strengths of the Brussels eating scene as well as its weaknesses. Brussels is considered an outpost of traditional French cuisine, and it is hard to get a bad meal in Brussels, to the delight of my palate and chagrin of my waistline.
My favorite Brussels restaurant, Le Petit Pont in suburban Uccle, can go toe-to-toe with anywhere I've eaten in France (or anywhere, for that matter). But Brussels is the capital of a continent, not a capital of a diverse, fallen empire (and the cuisines of Congo and Rwanda have yet to build a following among non-members of the African diaspora). Asian cuisine in Brussels tends to be pedestrian, Indian inconsistent, Jewish nonexistent, and even Turkish, while widely available, suffers from a dumbing down of ingredients.
Brussels does do a good job of serving its big expatriate populations. Fat Boy's Sports Bar has the best hamburgers and BBQ wings in Europe. Western European restaurants abound, Balkan grills are on the rise, Italian and Greek are ubiquitous, and Brussels' longstanding Spanish and Portuguese communities have loads of cheap standardbearers in a number of enclaves.
Moving from eating to sleeping, the story becomes clearer. Property is at least twice as expensive in Paris. A small 20 sqm (220 sq ft) apartment in a prime Paris location costs EUR 1100. My larger 70 sqm apartment in a comparable Brussels location costs EUR 720, including the (intermittent) heat.
Paris has 19 metro and regional express rail lines. Brussels has four metro lines, though two were artificially created as part of a rebranding exercise. But while Paris has only four tram lines, Brussels has more tram lines than one can shake a stick at. And what's more fun. Dark, dank, underground Metros or romantic, elegant, and ever-so-European trams?
Paris is in France. No one can credibly dispute its Frenchness. But while many Bruxellois like to think of their city as a bastion of la langue de Moliere, the legions of French-hating Flemish civil servants who descend on Brussel daily, and the growing number of East European EU staffers who eat, work, socialize and above all socialize in la langue de Shakespeare have other ideas.
Going to Paris and seeing everything in French awakens my inner Francophile. But living in Brussels stirs my inner Flandrophile, who is larger, meaner and drinks more heavily.
Paris is 80 minutes from Brussels by high-speed rail, and reachable for anywhere from EUR 30 to EUR 150 round trip depending on traffic. Having Paris so close--and not having to live there--is priceless.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Our Herb Brooks Moment
With the World Cup draw having been so ably handled by the gorgeous if ultra-leftist actress Charlize Theron last night in South Africa, we now know where all 31 of the qualifying countries will be playing, and we know where France will be playing as well.
For the United States, my first love in the game of "football" even if it is a place I prefer not to reside in, the draw could not be better. For not only does its group involve two of the last countries to qualify from their respective continents, Algeria and Slovenia, it also requires that the US kick off the account against England.
Fearsome England. Birthplace of The Game and home of the vaunted Premiership. Thanks to Charlize and the Football Gods, American soccer has been given the one opportunity it has sought, pined for, and ached for--a money game against the world's most storied football power on a Saturday afternoon in June.
For American Soccer, this game is for all the marbles. A draw, or improbably but not impossably a win, and this game will not only mark America's true arrival as a first-tier footballing nation but of soccer as a first-tier American sport. A humiliating shut-out, and it's time to forget soccer once and for all and start considering how many NFL rejects we can recycle into rugby players for the following year's Rugby World Cup.
Great games deserve great speeches. So, here is my adaptation of the famous speech by the last US Hockey Coach Herb Brooks to his charges before the epoch-changing match against the Russians in the 1980 Olympics, with apologies to Kurt Russell's performance in the movie "Miracle":
Great moments...are born from great opportunity.
And that's what you have here today, boys.
That's what you've earned here today.
One game.
If we played 'em ten times, they might win nine.
But not this game.
Not today.
Today, we play with them.
Today, we stay with them.
And we shut them down--because we can.
Today, WE are the greatest footballing nation in the world.
You were born to be footballers.
And you were meant to be here today.
This is your time.
Their time is done.
I'm sick and tired of hearing about
What a great football side the English have.
Screw 'em.
This is your time
Now go out there and take it.
For the United States, my first love in the game of "football" even if it is a place I prefer not to reside in, the draw could not be better. For not only does its group involve two of the last countries to qualify from their respective continents, Algeria and Slovenia, it also requires that the US kick off the account against England.
Fearsome England. Birthplace of The Game and home of the vaunted Premiership. Thanks to Charlize and the Football Gods, American soccer has been given the one opportunity it has sought, pined for, and ached for--a money game against the world's most storied football power on a Saturday afternoon in June.
For American Soccer, this game is for all the marbles. A draw, or improbably but not impossably a win, and this game will not only mark America's true arrival as a first-tier footballing nation but of soccer as a first-tier American sport. A humiliating shut-out, and it's time to forget soccer once and for all and start considering how many NFL rejects we can recycle into rugby players for the following year's Rugby World Cup.
Great games deserve great speeches. So, here is my adaptation of the famous speech by the last US Hockey Coach Herb Brooks to his charges before the epoch-changing match against the Russians in the 1980 Olympics, with apologies to Kurt Russell's performance in the movie "Miracle":
Great moments...are born from great opportunity.
And that's what you have here today, boys.
That's what you've earned here today.
One game.
If we played 'em ten times, they might win nine.
But not this game.
Not today.
Today, we play with them.
Today, we stay with them.
And we shut them down--because we can.
Today, WE are the greatest footballing nation in the world.
You were born to be footballers.
And you were meant to be here today.
This is your time.
Their time is done.
I'm sick and tired of hearing about
What a great football side the English have.
Screw 'em.
This is your time
Now go out there and take it.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Pro Choice on the Environment
OK, I’m back in blogging form and, as much as I love travel and beer (and am indeed writing this on an airplane with a newly malt-fortified Maes Pilsner in hand), headier matters come to mind.
This past weekend, I attended a conference called the European Summit for Global Transformation (www.europeansummit.org).
For the most part, it was an inspiring weekend spent with social entrepreneurs and activists from around the world. Included—women who founded high-performing schools in Nepal and Tanzania, a fellow who is spearheading an effort to buy 20 million hectares for reforestation (and thus suck and store CO2 out of the atmosphere--www.weforest.com), and a 23 year old from New Jersey who is now the “mother” of twenty seven orphans in the foothills of the Himalayas.
But I found one section of the event particularly disturbing—a three hour video session portending imminent environmental doom, and asserting that the only viable choice was some undefined notion of global economic “justice”.
I used to joke about being “pro-choice on the environment”. I accept it is no joke now. I believe that the current environmental crisis is the greatest threat to life on this planet since the ice age. But I also see its potential for enabling the greatest assault on human liberty since the end of World War II.
It does not need to be this way. Both extremes in the environmental debate—those who oppose any meaningful solutions for reasons of profit, inertia or laziness, and those who see the green banner this century as a way to achieve the totalitarian nirvana they failed to achieve under the red and brown banners of the last—are at cause for this duality.
But imagine this: what if the money, effort and energy being spent to refute right-wing denials of a problem could be spent on identifying viable alternatives and choices that can make a big difference for relatively little cost in terms of money and freedom? And what if people could see a viable environmental future that doesn’t require giving up cars, air conditioning, t-bone steaks and a child’s dream of being an airline pilot? What would be possible then?
A lot would be possible. Making some choices available would take some paradigm-shifting thinking. Some of this thinking is already going on—in aviation for instance, research is underway into bean-based jet fuel and high-capacity, fuel efficient turboprop airliners.
From a food standpoint, it is only starting to be well known that chicken production is far more carbon-efficient than beef production on a kilo-by-kilo basis. People are giving up some snobbiness towards boxed wine. Japanese breweries are brewing in Canada and trucking their “imported” brews over the border to the US. And Soda Club machines (www.sodaclub.il) are becoming increasingly popular, saving dozens of plastic bottles and eliminating the shipping involved in delivering sparkling water to the home.
Will a choice-based approach be enough? Are we really too far gone? In my view, free people will never be too far gone to fight for their freedoms, and even if things become dire, some choices will remain available, even if their cost may escalate to the magnitude of real sacrifice.
But at the same time, we also have the right to ask whether the world envisaged by those who place an environmentalist (and/or redistributionist) agenda ahead of human liberty is one that would be worth surviving in. And we certainly have the right to ask if there are indeed other ways of saving the planet that preserve those things we think make life worth living.
This past weekend, I attended a conference called the European Summit for Global Transformation (www.europeansummit.org).
For the most part, it was an inspiring weekend spent with social entrepreneurs and activists from around the world. Included—women who founded high-performing schools in Nepal and Tanzania, a fellow who is spearheading an effort to buy 20 million hectares for reforestation (and thus suck and store CO2 out of the atmosphere--www.weforest.com), and a 23 year old from New Jersey who is now the “mother” of twenty seven orphans in the foothills of the Himalayas.
But I found one section of the event particularly disturbing—a three hour video session portending imminent environmental doom, and asserting that the only viable choice was some undefined notion of global economic “justice”.
I used to joke about being “pro-choice on the environment”. I accept it is no joke now. I believe that the current environmental crisis is the greatest threat to life on this planet since the ice age. But I also see its potential for enabling the greatest assault on human liberty since the end of World War II.
It does not need to be this way. Both extremes in the environmental debate—those who oppose any meaningful solutions for reasons of profit, inertia or laziness, and those who see the green banner this century as a way to achieve the totalitarian nirvana they failed to achieve under the red and brown banners of the last—are at cause for this duality.
But imagine this: what if the money, effort and energy being spent to refute right-wing denials of a problem could be spent on identifying viable alternatives and choices that can make a big difference for relatively little cost in terms of money and freedom? And what if people could see a viable environmental future that doesn’t require giving up cars, air conditioning, t-bone steaks and a child’s dream of being an airline pilot? What would be possible then?
A lot would be possible. Making some choices available would take some paradigm-shifting thinking. Some of this thinking is already going on—in aviation for instance, research is underway into bean-based jet fuel and high-capacity, fuel efficient turboprop airliners.
From a food standpoint, it is only starting to be well known that chicken production is far more carbon-efficient than beef production on a kilo-by-kilo basis. People are giving up some snobbiness towards boxed wine. Japanese breweries are brewing in Canada and trucking their “imported” brews over the border to the US. And Soda Club machines (www.sodaclub.il) are becoming increasingly popular, saving dozens of plastic bottles and eliminating the shipping involved in delivering sparkling water to the home.
Will a choice-based approach be enough? Are we really too far gone? In my view, free people will never be too far gone to fight for their freedoms, and even if things become dire, some choices will remain available, even if their cost may escalate to the magnitude of real sacrifice.
But at the same time, we also have the right to ask whether the world envisaged by those who place an environmentalist (and/or redistributionist) agenda ahead of human liberty is one that would be worth surviving in. And we certainly have the right to ask if there are indeed other ways of saving the planet that preserve those things we think make life worth living.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Rejoining the Human Race in Luxembourg
The brasserie at the Hotel Koener in Clervaux, Luxembourg seems an unlikely place to rejoin the human race. But I chose to head for the Luxembourg Ardennes for some rest, relaxation and rejuvenation following a turbulent period in my career--to draw a line under it and contemplate the next adventure.
Following a four hour trip--which included a two hour journey through the Belgian Ardennes on a rail replacement bus, I arrived at the Clervaux train station, only to find I had missed the bus connection to my hotel, the Chateau d'Urspelt, a few kilometers away from this little town of 1800 souls.
The idea of staying at a Chateau had considerable appeal, not for the least to arouse jealousy among those I told. I also liked the idea of being in a completely different environment than anything I'd experienced in recent months--different languages, menus and beers.
When I arrived at the Chateau D'Urspelt after an hour-and-a-half bus layover and a non-descript omelet at a similarly non-descript lunch spot half-filled with Luxemburgers speaking Letzebuergesch, I found the place quite tasteful and modern. Not surprising, given that the place was restored in 2008 following 300 years of gradual but relentless dilapidation.
The Chateau has two spas, one of which I visited immediately upon arrival. There is nothing like a jacuzzi to make one forget what one seeks to forget.
It also has one restaurant, making it the only eatery within 3 km, a challenging statistic when one is without wheels amidst bucolic splendour. As the Chateau restaurant was booked, I had to take a hard-to-find taxi and head to the clutch of hotels in the centre of Clervaux, bringing me to the schnitzel at the Hotel Koener, washed down with the mild-but-tasty Diekirch Grand Cru, a local brew.
Going to Luxembourg, as much as anything, is a bid to reconnect with that which is Continental that I love.
A country with less than a half-million people, the size of a modest American county, with an affluent population that switches between four languages (including fair English), de-Luxembourg allows one to acclimate quickly and comprehensively while being sufficiently different from its neighbors topographically and architecturally. It feels more German than anything else, but less German than Germany.
A scene at a tavern near the Koener exemplifies. I can hear all three local languages, as American rock blares over the soundless broadcast of Schalke vs Bayer Leverkusen. Beers from Belgium and Luxembourg dominate the beer list, along with something called Humpen, which I've never heard of but feel compelled to order next. (As it happens, a Humpen proves to be the local equivalent of a "pint" of decent draft pilsner.)
Of course, spa-ing, eating and beering have not occupied the whole day. I also got in an uphill walk along the road from Urspelt to Fischbach, which intrigued me because I had a dorm-mate at Wisconsin named David Feshbach. Alas, Fischbach was a collection of a half dozen buildings, making Urspelt, a collection of two dozen buildings plus the Chateau, seem like a thumpin' metropolis.
One missing hygiene factor--Urspelt lacks a little shop, which was a bit of an irritant (the Fischbach walk was out of hope I could find a six-pack and some peanuts). But I'll take jacuzzi over peanuts if forced to choose...
Following a four hour trip--which included a two hour journey through the Belgian Ardennes on a rail replacement bus, I arrived at the Clervaux train station, only to find I had missed the bus connection to my hotel, the Chateau d'Urspelt, a few kilometers away from this little town of 1800 souls.
The idea of staying at a Chateau had considerable appeal, not for the least to arouse jealousy among those I told. I also liked the idea of being in a completely different environment than anything I'd experienced in recent months--different languages, menus and beers.
When I arrived at the Chateau D'Urspelt after an hour-and-a-half bus layover and a non-descript omelet at a similarly non-descript lunch spot half-filled with Luxemburgers speaking Letzebuergesch, I found the place quite tasteful and modern. Not surprising, given that the place was restored in 2008 following 300 years of gradual but relentless dilapidation.
The Chateau has two spas, one of which I visited immediately upon arrival. There is nothing like a jacuzzi to make one forget what one seeks to forget.
It also has one restaurant, making it the only eatery within 3 km, a challenging statistic when one is without wheels amidst bucolic splendour. As the Chateau restaurant was booked, I had to take a hard-to-find taxi and head to the clutch of hotels in the centre of Clervaux, bringing me to the schnitzel at the Hotel Koener, washed down with the mild-but-tasty Diekirch Grand Cru, a local brew.
Going to Luxembourg, as much as anything, is a bid to reconnect with that which is Continental that I love.
A country with less than a half-million people, the size of a modest American county, with an affluent population that switches between four languages (including fair English), de-Luxembourg allows one to acclimate quickly and comprehensively while being sufficiently different from its neighbors topographically and architecturally. It feels more German than anything else, but less German than Germany.
A scene at a tavern near the Koener exemplifies. I can hear all three local languages, as American rock blares over the soundless broadcast of Schalke vs Bayer Leverkusen. Beers from Belgium and Luxembourg dominate the beer list, along with something called Humpen, which I've never heard of but feel compelled to order next. (As it happens, a Humpen proves to be the local equivalent of a "pint" of decent draft pilsner.)
Of course, spa-ing, eating and beering have not occupied the whole day. I also got in an uphill walk along the road from Urspelt to Fischbach, which intrigued me because I had a dorm-mate at Wisconsin named David Feshbach. Alas, Fischbach was a collection of a half dozen buildings, making Urspelt, a collection of two dozen buildings plus the Chateau, seem like a thumpin' metropolis.
One missing hygiene factor--Urspelt lacks a little shop, which was a bit of an irritant (the Fischbach walk was out of hope I could find a six-pack and some peanuts). But I'll take jacuzzi over peanuts if forced to choose...
The Family
Clervaux, for a town of 1800, is well endowed in a number of areas. Aesthetically, it is hemmed in between the Our River (if there was a local hydroelectric station, it would give new meaning to the phrase Our of Power) and the steep pine-covered Ardennes hillsides.
This stretches the town along the river making it seem bigger than it is. It also has a good number of traditional small hotels, whose dining rooms constitute the main atmospheric eateries in town, but Clervaux also has two Chinese places, a relative diversity in a town that has no identifiable Jewish population.
But the one thing that Clervaux has that no one else does is a castle that is the home of the Family of Man photographic exhibition. Commissioned in 1951 by New York's Museum of Modern Art, this collection developed by Edward Steicher, a Luxembourg-born American photographer, and seen by more than 9 million viewers during its travels, includes hundreds of images of the human condition before, during, and shortly after World War II.
Arranged in a procession of sections commemorating human existence--starting with the bonding of lovers and progressing through childhood, work, eating and playing--and then into war, religion and politics, the collection is inescapably moving.
While I found two photos most compelling--Orthodox Jewish kids in an old-style religious school on the one hand, and a German child walking with his schoolbag through a bombed out city on the other, the most powerful thing about this exhibition was its datedness.
To a certain extent, the Family of Man is a bit of time travel--incorporating the kind of images one would see in postwar editions of Life and Look magazines, the great publications which provided Americans with a visual context for world events in the days before television took hold. But to a greater extent, humans and the human condition remain remarkably unchanged in the last sixty years, and there are elements of the exhibition that demonstrate this dramatically.
The castle also is home to a cozy cafe, whose proprietor offered me a complimentary glass of red wine shortly after finishing a local beer (Diekirch Grand Cru). On figuring I was American, he gushed about President Obama, and was quite surprised that I joined in the gushing. It's a pity that the Dems weren't running a candidate for Governor of Luxembourg--Obama still has coattails here.
This stretches the town along the river making it seem bigger than it is. It also has a good number of traditional small hotels, whose dining rooms constitute the main atmospheric eateries in town, but Clervaux also has two Chinese places, a relative diversity in a town that has no identifiable Jewish population.
But the one thing that Clervaux has that no one else does is a castle that is the home of the Family of Man photographic exhibition. Commissioned in 1951 by New York's Museum of Modern Art, this collection developed by Edward Steicher, a Luxembourg-born American photographer, and seen by more than 9 million viewers during its travels, includes hundreds of images of the human condition before, during, and shortly after World War II.
Arranged in a procession of sections commemorating human existence--starting with the bonding of lovers and progressing through childhood, work, eating and playing--and then into war, religion and politics, the collection is inescapably moving.
While I found two photos most compelling--Orthodox Jewish kids in an old-style religious school on the one hand, and a German child walking with his schoolbag through a bombed out city on the other, the most powerful thing about this exhibition was its datedness.
To a certain extent, the Family of Man is a bit of time travel--incorporating the kind of images one would see in postwar editions of Life and Look magazines, the great publications which provided Americans with a visual context for world events in the days before television took hold. But to a greater extent, humans and the human condition remain remarkably unchanged in the last sixty years, and there are elements of the exhibition that demonstrate this dramatically.
The castle also is home to a cozy cafe, whose proprietor offered me a complimentary glass of red wine shortly after finishing a local beer (Diekirch Grand Cru). On figuring I was American, he gushed about President Obama, and was quite surprised that I joined in the gushing. It's a pity that the Dems weren't running a candidate for Governor of Luxembourg--Obama still has coattails here.
Venison Sashimi
I've been of two minds about my Chateau-hotel in Luxembourg, the Chateau d'Urspelt. On the one hand, having been renovated to a modern, four-star (competent but not over-the-top) standard, the place reminds me a bit of a Chateau Novotel. On the other, it is self-consciously a family-run place, with references to the owning Lodomez family more visible than references to the mayoral Daley family in most parts of Chicago.
Where this place departs from the four-star into the stratosphere is its restaurant. Opting for sublime Luxembourgeois bubbly over an intriguingly unfamiliar Belgian beer, I've departed on a breathtaking culinary journey (which I am experiencing as I write, having my blackberry as a poor substitute for a date).
I could tell I was in for a ride when my first course was brought. I ordered "a tartare of smoked venison.".
What emerged looked at first like a lab experiment--a beaker that seemed a bit cloudy looking. But when the waiter lifted the "beaker", the fragrant smell of smoke enveloped the table--for the dish consisted of cubes of smoked-while-u-wait raw venison served on a bed of razor-thin sliced pears and red peppercorns. For the uninitiated, kinda like venison sushi, or more precisely, sashimi.
The main-a very-robust looking Magret de Canard, one of my favorite dishes of the Franco-Belgian-Luxembourgeois kitchen, served with a red peppercorn sauce. Interestingly, it was served with a side of fennel, my favorite vegetable, after fish. Excellent, if more conventional than the first course.
The wine list is interesting, more because of its presentation than its contents--it is printed as a label on a three-litre wine bottle. The vaulted ceilings do well as well. As for the clientele, they are all conversing in a number of languages, none of which I competently understand.
Hungarians have long been fond of saying that "Hungary is the only country in Europe surrounded by itself in all directions.". But they are wrong. Today's Rhode Island-sized Luxembourg is also a rump version of its former self, which once also included Belgium's (larger) Province of Luxembourg, and adjoining parts of Germany and France.
I ponder this as I ponder the dessert menu, which, written in French and German, offers but few clues about what is on offer. To be fair to my Level III London Business School French, this is more because I have no clue about what a "Fantasie autour d'un fruit d'automne" is than it is that I don't understand "fantasy" and "autumn fruit". Inquiring of the waiter, he says it involves a pear, but finds it otherwise difficult to describe. Convinced, I order it.
Another glass of Cremant de Luxembourg arrives. Cremant is a French-authorized term for "good sparkling wine that ain't Champagne.". I have long prized "Cremants" from around the world, partially because they are far better value than Champagne, and mostly because they marry the magic of effervescence with more varied grape styles (such as Riesling and Macabeo), and even colors (try sparkling Shiraz).
But this one beats Champagne at its own game--a full-blooded Pinot Noir rendition vinted less than 100 miles from Epernay, at less than half the price of the most basic chain-store Champagne.
It serves as a good complement to the Fantasie, which consists of a poached pear, a small chocolate-filled wonton, a tiny scoop of gingerbread ("speculoos") ice cream and a slash of raspberry sauce. Everything is excellent--but the ice cream is off the charts.
I am well and truly sated--a really first rate meal with intelligent, attentive and clinically multilingual service. And the location, overlooking the courtyard of Chateau d'Urspelt, could not be better. Particularly since it means only a short forklift ride back to my quarters.
Where this place departs from the four-star into the stratosphere is its restaurant. Opting for sublime Luxembourgeois bubbly over an intriguingly unfamiliar Belgian beer, I've departed on a breathtaking culinary journey (which I am experiencing as I write, having my blackberry as a poor substitute for a date).
I could tell I was in for a ride when my first course was brought. I ordered "a tartare of smoked venison.".
What emerged looked at first like a lab experiment--a beaker that seemed a bit cloudy looking. But when the waiter lifted the "beaker", the fragrant smell of smoke enveloped the table--for the dish consisted of cubes of smoked-while-u-wait raw venison served on a bed of razor-thin sliced pears and red peppercorns. For the uninitiated, kinda like venison sushi, or more precisely, sashimi.
The main-a very-robust looking Magret de Canard, one of my favorite dishes of the Franco-Belgian-Luxembourgeois kitchen, served with a red peppercorn sauce. Interestingly, it was served with a side of fennel, my favorite vegetable, after fish. Excellent, if more conventional than the first course.
The wine list is interesting, more because of its presentation than its contents--it is printed as a label on a three-litre wine bottle. The vaulted ceilings do well as well. As for the clientele, they are all conversing in a number of languages, none of which I competently understand.
Hungarians have long been fond of saying that "Hungary is the only country in Europe surrounded by itself in all directions.". But they are wrong. Today's Rhode Island-sized Luxembourg is also a rump version of its former self, which once also included Belgium's (larger) Province of Luxembourg, and adjoining parts of Germany and France.
I ponder this as I ponder the dessert menu, which, written in French and German, offers but few clues about what is on offer. To be fair to my Level III London Business School French, this is more because I have no clue about what a "Fantasie autour d'un fruit d'automne" is than it is that I don't understand "fantasy" and "autumn fruit". Inquiring of the waiter, he says it involves a pear, but finds it otherwise difficult to describe. Convinced, I order it.
Another glass of Cremant de Luxembourg arrives. Cremant is a French-authorized term for "good sparkling wine that ain't Champagne.". I have long prized "Cremants" from around the world, partially because they are far better value than Champagne, and mostly because they marry the magic of effervescence with more varied grape styles (such as Riesling and Macabeo), and even colors (try sparkling Shiraz).
But this one beats Champagne at its own game--a full-blooded Pinot Noir rendition vinted less than 100 miles from Epernay, at less than half the price of the most basic chain-store Champagne.
It serves as a good complement to the Fantasie, which consists of a poached pear, a small chocolate-filled wonton, a tiny scoop of gingerbread ("speculoos") ice cream and a slash of raspberry sauce. Everything is excellent--but the ice cream is off the charts.
I am well and truly sated--a really first rate meal with intelligent, attentive and clinically multilingual service. And the location, overlooking the courtyard of Chateau d'Urspelt, could not be better. Particularly since it means only a short forklift ride back to my quarters.
Lux City
My intention was to keep my trip brief, with two nights at the Chateau and then back home to start the job-search jihad in earnest. But the fates--in the form of a nationwide rail strike in Belgium--intervened. I thought another day in Clervaux would be a bit much, and after seeing an EUR 49 hotel special in Luxembourg City, I decided to head for the capital.
Much of the trip was spent on a bus, as the tracks between Clervaux and Ettelbruck were "gefuckt", as they say in Letzebuergesch. Buses in rural Europe offer better views and countryside than trains generally, so I hardly minded.
The journey finished on a train, which meant a ringside view of the spectacular cliffs and fortifications that make Luxembourg one of Europe's most visually spectacular capitals. Off the train, meandering through its cobblestone streets, you get the idea it is one of its richest, though it's low value added tax rate means good deals on the everyday and luxury items found in its many shops.
There is one beef I have with Luxembourg City--the vast majority of its hotels are located in the neighborhood by the train station, which, while not dangerous or possessing of really seedy businesses, lacks the attractiveness Lux City otherwise possesses in abundance.
My favorite hotel here, the Parc Plaza, is a notable exception-overlooking the ravines in a nice neighborhood near the centre-ville. But at EUR 120 midweek, that seemed excessive after two nights of Chateau at EUR 89. So I opted for the Hotel Delta at EUR 49, including breakfast.
The Delta has four stars on the outside, as did the Chateau. Its renovation, however, has been more selective, as I noted in a quick look at the unlocked rooms. Mine was unrenovated. It was much more reminiscent of the one and two star rooms I stayed in on earlier Europe travels. But somehow I liked it--it brought me back to the time when Europe was just an adventure.
Much of the trip was spent on a bus, as the tracks between Clervaux and Ettelbruck were "gefuckt", as they say in Letzebuergesch. Buses in rural Europe offer better views and countryside than trains generally, so I hardly minded.
The journey finished on a train, which meant a ringside view of the spectacular cliffs and fortifications that make Luxembourg one of Europe's most visually spectacular capitals. Off the train, meandering through its cobblestone streets, you get the idea it is one of its richest, though it's low value added tax rate means good deals on the everyday and luxury items found in its many shops.
There is one beef I have with Luxembourg City--the vast majority of its hotels are located in the neighborhood by the train station, which, while not dangerous or possessing of really seedy businesses, lacks the attractiveness Lux City otherwise possesses in abundance.
My favorite hotel here, the Parc Plaza, is a notable exception-overlooking the ravines in a nice neighborhood near the centre-ville. But at EUR 120 midweek, that seemed excessive after two nights of Chateau at EUR 89. So I opted for the Hotel Delta at EUR 49, including breakfast.
The Delta has four stars on the outside, as did the Chateau. Its renovation, however, has been more selective, as I noted in a quick look at the unlocked rooms. Mine was unrenovated. It was much more reminiscent of the one and two star rooms I stayed in on earlier Europe travels. But somehow I liked it--it brought me back to the time when Europe was just an adventure.
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