Restaurant Gut Lärchenhof

After a dry spell in the ‘good food department’ in Croatia and Bosnia, I was desperately in need of a nice meal. My taste buds demanded it. And so I found myself in Cologne, Germany, with the priority being to eat. First on the agenda was Gut Lärchenhof, a one star Michelin restaurant situated in the village of Pulheim-Stommeln which is about 16km from the centre of Cologne. What is most interesting about this restaurant’s location is not where it is, but the fact that it is housed in a golf course, one that was designed by Jack Nicholas.

Some of you might think it odd that I would make the effort to venture to a golf course for a reason other than golf, and even if you didn’t, I will hold my hand up and admit that I did spend a short moment in quiet reflection trying to decide if I was indeed ‘odd’. But I have never been shy about going to extreme lengths in pursuit of a good meal (and indeed I have had some harebrained escapades- but that is a story for another time). Besides, I was intrigued by this place, which after some internal debate, I choose over Zur Traube, a two star Michelin restaurant also situated in the Cologne area. Interestingly, despite having one less star, Gut Lärchenhof holds 18 Gault Millau points, the same as Zur Traube. But Gut Lärchenhof is itself expecting a second star in the upcoming year, and restaurants such as these, hungry for that extra star, often have something to prove. Consequently, I believe they often provide excellent dining experiences.

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Ćevapi - a Bosnian specialty

A moment if I may, to share with you some of the trials and tribulations of blogging while on this trip. I am constantly on the move and my primary focus is of course to travel. So my days are filled with working out what to see, where I will go next, how I will get there and where I will stay. So I grab the odd moment when I can to write, whether it be waiting at an airport or on a bus (although the motion of the bus makes this rather difficult), etc. I then have to find an internet connection to upload my post as well as my pictures. Some of the places I stayed at were equipped with wi-fi, some weren’t. There’s been the odd café, and on one occasion I found an unsecured line (naughty I know) in a town square somewhere. And for my sins, as I was sitting under a tree blogging, a pigeon did a huge number two all over my laptop screen. There really was nothing else to say in these circumstances other than `sh*t!’, albeit I said in the context of an expletive rather than as an acknowledge of the sad state of affairs.

My next stop after Croatia was Sarajevo (and this was after whizzing through the extremely picturesque Montenegro). Nowadays, Sarajevo is anything but war-torn, although the scars of the Serbian Siege of 1992-1995 still remain for the city has not been completed restored. It’s not an exceptionally beautiful place, but it’s incredibly fascinating. An eclectic mix of East meets West – Turkish-styled bazaars sitting alongside Western European-inspired architecture – this was also the place where on 28 June 1914, Gavrilo Princip assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sofia, leading to the outbreak of WW1. I love this sort of stuff – XX marks the spot where XX happened, to forever cement a moment in time that will alter the course of history.

Plaque to mark the spot where the assassination took place

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Gil's Cuisine & Pop Lounge

I have to admit that I felt rather sad when I left Sicily. I had a marvellous time there, and despite all my moaning about the heat, I found the sunshine extremely soothing for the soul. So my parting meal at Palermo airport, if you could even call it that, was a big fat cannolo, even though after about my eighth one I vehemently swore I would not eat another. To me the humble cannolo, which can be found throughout Sicily, was a symbol of what made my time there so great. And this one at the airport tasted the best of the lot. Why is food, when touched with a twinge of nostalgia, always extra good? Barely two hours after leaving Sicily I was yearning for the taste of that cannolo again.

But new experiences were to be had, some unwanted. On my arrival in Split, Croatia, my luggage went AWOL. Croatian Airlines blamed the Italian luggage handlers and were rather unhelpful during the whole episode. There were no reassurances from them that my bag would be recovered. In fact they suggested that it might never resurface at all. But it did, although it would take two pretty stressful days. What I discovered during that time was how little you actually need.

After Split I headed to Dubrovnik. The bus route hugs the coast all the way, and the scenery was truly amazing – cliff edge precipices married with pristine waters and lush green islands. But greeting Dubrovnik for the first time at night was something else. Wave after wave of stone make up the Old Town walls, and when lit up in lights, it is truly a spectacle to behold. I will never forget the adulation I felt the moment I first laid eyes on those walls.

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Antica Focacceria San Francisco

Like any big city, there is much to see in Palermo, a place that’s sultry and sensuous, but sliced with an edginess. One moment you’re walking down a street filled with designer shops, the next, wandering through rubble built up after years of gun fighting. The architecture is fascinating given its influences which include that of the Arabs and the Spanish, and with military precision, I went from one tourist spot to another to try and take it all in. I visited many a church, as one is prone to do while in Italy, and on a couple of occasions, I found myself walking in on a wedding ceremony. From what I could gather, these are not off limits to the general public. What I found most fascinating about walking in on one was the people watching – the guests, all dressed to the nines, and fanning themselves simultaneously to provide some respite from the heat.

As ever, I tried to seek out some local food specialities by asking for some advice, but my first attempt was ill-fated. I made my inquiries with the people who ran the B&B that I stayed at. “Do you like spicy?”, they ask. (Hmmm, this was not a promising start.) “We know a delicious Chinese”, they continued. (Clearly not foodies). “No, thanks”, I replied, but they were pretty persistent, insisting that it was really yummy. But honestly, how good could Chinese food in Sicily possibly be?

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The mussels at Quattro Gatti

I have since left Ragusa Ibla, but a little more on this tiny little town, which after only a couple of days had managed to charm its way into my heart. I managed to make a few friends during my stay, namely some of the older male residents, the ones who, if you read my previous blog post, you’ll recall seemed to ‘while away their time watching the world go by’. As I became more of a regular spectacle wandering the little streets of Ragusa Ibla, I would encounter the odd one who would try and talk to me. I barely speak a word of Italian, so as I watched them talk to me, following their hands as they made those gestures that Italians so love, I can only assume that their favourite pastime after sitting is to indulge in idle gossip.

What I found most amusing about these experiences was that my protestations that I do not speak Italian did nothing to curtail their desire to talk to me. In fact, it made them more determined to be understood. But because of my language failings, what I was unable to convey to any of them is that “it doesn’t matter how many times you repeat what you say, or even if you S-A-Y I-T S-L-O-W-L-Y, if I don’t understand it the first time, I probably won’t understand it the second time either.” But if I could actually say this to them, then it would be because I was able to speak Italian, in which case I would not be having this problem in the first place. As it was, I could only nod and smile.

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Ragusa Ibla

My next stop after Catania was Ragusa Ibla, about 2 hours drive south of Catania. My reason for coming here was food related for it is home to the only two star Michelin restaurant in Sicily (there are other one stars). Truth be told, I had also tried to do some research on other Sicilian restaurants through this one Italian food blog I found. As it was written in Italian, I needed the help of ‘Google Translator’. While ‘Google Translator’ translates words fine, it translates meanings less well, and after a little while spent trying to ‘translate’ the translation, I found myself giving up.

Anyway, Michelin pointed me to Ragusa Ibla, the old part of Ragusa, which is not to be mistaken for Ragusa itself, the new town. A Unesco World Heritage site, it is built upon a hill and extremely beautiful, with narrow ancient streets that makes the thought of driving a car through them seem impossible (although it is possible for there are in fact cars here). It also has to be said that Ragusa Ibla is tiny, tiny, tiny. If you can imagine a scene where the older generation of men from the town while away their days sitting in the main square watching the world go by, then you have pretty much captured the essence of this place. I must admit to a small bout of worry that there would not be enough to keep me busy for the two nights that I had planned to stay here. But after a while, I too cottoned on to the sheer pleasure of watching the world go by, especially with a cappuccino and a good book to hand.

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Mount Etna

If I had to use one word to describe Sicily, it would be ‘hot‘. No two words, ‘stinking hot‘. But what else could I possibly expect from this Mediterranean island during the height of summer? Temperatures have been hovering at between 35c and 40c, and at times it is almost unbearable.

And as I write this, I have come to realise that after living in London for a number of years, I must have picked up some element of Britishness. How else can I possibly explain an opening paragraph which is all about the weather? So putting that to one side, let me talk briefly about Catania, my first port of call in Sicily. It’s situated on the east side of the island, and is a rather pleasant town. It’s also a really good base from which to explore the sites of Mount Etna, the town of Syracuse which is steeped in history, and the quaint and picturesque (if a little touristy) town of Taormina.

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On account of there being no cookery school over the summer, I decided a couple of months ago to (1) give notice on my flat, (2) put all my worldly possessions into storage (well, almost), and (3) go travelling for two months around Europe.

My travel plan is a litte vague. I have a one way ticket to Sicily, I shall meet up with friends and my sister for a weekend here, a week there, etc. But other than that, I have decided to go with the wind and see where the fancy takes me. I’m not even taking a guide book!

So dear readers, please bear with me if my blogging becomes a little sporadic in the upcoming months. I apologise upfront, but I might just feel slightly disclined to write if I am lazing on a beach somewhere slowly getting sun kissed and concentrating on doing nothing. But I shall do my best to bring you any exciting eating adventures I might have, for I shall undoubtedly have some. A girl has to eat after all! And I certainly hope to incorporate some well known Michelin restaurants into my summer odyssey.

So have a great, hot, sunny summer. I certainly know I will.

With love xx