Creamed egg with chive oil & views over Laguiole

I once swore that I would never go back to Rodez.

It happened in July 2006 when I was due to fly to Toulon in Provence on Ryanair. Missing my flight by the skin of my teeth, I weighed up all my various options, these being to change my flight to an alternative destination, or to come back the following day for the next flight to Toulon. Faced with the daunting prospect of having to travel out to Stansted Airport again, I decided that an element of adventure and daring was called for. And so I decided to fly to an unheard of destination in Southern France, somewhere I thought would be close to Toulon, and make my way overland instead.

Well that particular destination was Rodez. Standing at the Ryanair customer services counter and peering into the destinations map, the distance between Rodez and Toulon did not appear so far. But as I was to find out soon enough, maps on walls can be rather deceptive.

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Pork belly at The Restaurant at the 3 Weeds

In a few days I am sadly due to leave the glorious sunny and temperate Sydney shores to traverse my way over many seas back to the onset of autumn in London. Like a good movie, a splendid ending was called for. I wracked my brains, wanting a memorable story with a grand dining finale. So like a good location scout, I searched and searched and think I found the spot. It’s called The Restaurant at the 3 Weeds, and here is my story…

The story:
The story begins when, as a little six year old girl, I first registered the existence of the 3 Weeds Pub in my young consciousness. Back then, it was known as the Rose, Shamrock and Thistle, a pub situated roughly somewhere halfway between where I used to live and where I went to school. There would be many occasions when I’d walk past it, realising it was a place where those big grown ups would go to drink and be merry.

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Note: Sadly this restaurant closed in 2012.

Sirloin steak with garlic butter

Many moons ago I was beckoned to Bird Cow Fish on the back of some glowing reviews when it first opened in the trendy inner-city Sydney suburb of Balmain, although no doubt I’d have paid it a visit anyway on the sheer ingenuity of its name alone. For me, that particular experience was surprisingly memorable. I do not profess to be an amorous gnocchi fan, sometimes finding even superior versions to be a little starchy and heavy. So it was surprising to discover on that visit that it was the gloriousness of the gnocchi at Bird Cow Fish that wowed me, their version proving so incredibly light and delicate as to have the effect of melting in my mouth. Two and a half years ago, Bird Cow Fish relocated to a new farmyard, to another trendy inner-city suburb of Sydney, Surry Hills. Again I was beckoned, this time to see if I could recapture the taste that was.

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For as long as I can remember I’ve dreamt of visiting Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria, Germany, the inspiration for Walt Disney’s Cinderella Castle at Disneyland.  Tomorrow my dream comes true for Neuschwanstein will be our pit stop, but tonight our resting point was Füssen, located only a few miles away from the castle.  I had chosen a restaurant (Tannheimer Stube) for the evening which looked somewhat interesting. Its website suggested an Alpine-styled setting, leaving me with visions of Maria bursting into song about the hills, and men in lederhosen yodelling away.

“It’s thirty kilometres away, you know” I told my friend.  “Is that ok?” “Yeah sure” he said.  It was only after I made the reservation at the restaurant that he uttered something about it being in Austria and had I realised?  Nope.  It had all looked German to me.  So today, after having driven some seven hours from Munster, France, to Füssen, Germany, we drove to a restaurant in Tannheim, Austria for dinner.  How many people would ever do that?

On route to Tannheimer Stube Restaurant

The drive to Tannheimer Stube, a Michelin one-star, made the effort worthwhile. With green hills and lush fields lining the route, it was beset by a mystical, magical quality with the onset of a light mist and the fading of the evening light.  We pulled into the restaurant, and it was just as the website suggested, an alpine hut in an alpine setting (where was Maria?).  We walked through the entrance into a Laura Ashley-like pastel coloured drawing room and were greeted by Heidi, who directed us to the dining room.  Warm and inviting, it was the picture of charm!  Pine throughout, there were many touches of homeliness and romance everywhere; the beautiful red rose on the table, the candle shaped lights fitted to the walls, the cushions fashioned with love hearts and similarly matched table runners.

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As part of the planning for this road trip, I trawled through the Michelin website. Within about a thirty-five kilometre radius of Munster there were some fifteen or so Michelin-starred restaurants. Sigh, which one to choose? Do I choose on the basis of geography, how good the food looks on the restaurants’ websites or how nice the people are to me when they answer the phone? Uncertain, I read each and every restaurant description, one by one. Next were the emails to my friend. “Here are numbers one to eight, others to follow. I liked number three best but number eight looked great too. What do you think?” and so it went. Curiously most were one-star, until I got to number twelve on the list, Auberge de L’ill. Interestingly, this was a three star. What could set it so distinctly apart from all the others? Was this the Sirius Star in a constellation of restaurants? Well that settled that. A decision was made.

The banks of the River L’ill

Auberge de L’ill is so named for it lies on the banks of the River L’ill in Alsace, Eastern France. Established in 1878 and famed for the finest of fine Alsatian cuisine (and by some accounts, the best restaurant in Eastern France), it has been an outpost for the creations of many generations of the Haeberlin family. So it was with awe that I stepped onto the path that led us to the key address of this family dynasty. As the door swung open I was simply stunned.

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My first taste of the Alsace region of France was Eguisheim, which we approached from La Route des Crêtes (the Crest Road). This route runs through one of the oldest mountain ranges in France and gives you some amazing panoramic views, some as far as the Black Forest.

La Route des Crêtes (the Crest Road)

We’d come to Eguisheim in the Alsace for the sole purpose of this little restaurant that I’d discovered in the Michelin guide. I was particularly drawn to the description which mentioned that the restaurant was once the home of a former winegrower. ‘Quaint’, I thought, and I do adore quaint. So of course we had to come. See, some people choose where to travel to and then pick the restaurants, or even go with the flow. Not me. I’ve to choose which restaurants I want to eat at and then pick the route. So to Eguisheim we went. Eguisheim was probably on of those places I would’ve never thought to visit for the sheer fact that it has never registered in my radius of knowledge. However, it turned out to be wonderfully delightful. A medieval village surrounded by the mountains, there are German influences throughout given both its proximity to Germany and that for long periods in history was under German occupation. It has now been beautifully restored to resemble a kaleidoscope of colours and on the first day of real sunshine on our driving trip thus far, it was truly picture postcard perfect.

Egusheim: Picture postcard perfect

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