Why, yes, this is another series of posts wherein I fangirl crush on Tirol. (To be honest, if the distance was not so great we would probably live in Tirol and Tony would commute to Vienna.)
Three days after returning from Tallinn, Tony and I (and our ever wily Foxhound) departed for a long-ago planned and much anticipated nine days in Austria’s pretty alpine state. Tirol has stepped up nicely as a stand-in for our annual “Cape Cod” holiday, though mountains have replaced the beaches and there are most definitely no lobsters or fried clams to be found (but cows are everywhere!)
On Thursday I pored over hiking and wandering routes. On Friday the weather was checked, and checked again before the cases were closed. Rainy day plans were devised. A bag of Haribo Gummy Bears was situated neatly in the wagon within my reach (the Summer Edition, with apple, blueberry and watermelon flavors, obviously). Finally, departure Saturday was upon us.
For the first five nights of the holiday we called home a spacious and alpine-themed suite (de rigueur in these parts) with mountain view at one of Seefeld’s numerous resorts, before moving on later in the holiday to a new-to-us region in Tirol, the Ötztal.
Like “Forest Bathing,” only with mountains and alpine air. And a Pinot Gris.
More alpine. I told you. Antlers and stuffed wildlife everywhere. I could have moved in.
Our reservation included Half Board. (Fret not, however; I will not subject you to snaps of the 30 courses in total that were served.) The epicure in me delighted in the menu each evening; what did not delight us (until we sought remedy) was our table. Because we were not traveling with young persons we were seated in the Senior Section, where we were quite literally the only two guests under the age of 70.
The silence of old married couples who no longer speak to one another we found unappetizing, and glanced longingly at the “Kid’s Table,” the more casual dining room where people were actually talking. After a couple of nights of this boring bon vivant I asked if we could, perhaps, be seated in the “lively and casual” dining room, with fellow diners our age, talking and laughing quietly and otherwise acting like grown ups. I am quite sure the dining room staff knew not what to make of us after this request.
One couple from the Senior Section intrigued us, however. Impeccably dressed for every meal, and always in the lounge enjoying an after-dinner cocktail. They spoke not a word to one another during dinner (or breakfast, for that matter); however, following dinner on one particular evening we passed through the lounge with CTF and the woman commented to us in American English, that she found Clayton Theodore to be a handsome dog. Forever a mystery, these two.
But let us talk about the food. The Saturday evening “Gala Menu.”
Beef Carpaccio Salad
Bouillon from Red Beet, with a tiny fish cake and horseradish foam. Mmmm.
Linguine with Sea Fruit and Leek. A recipe I am inspired to create at home.
The course in which the translated menu commits hari-kari. As described, this is, “Sucking Calf: Stewed and roasted sugar snaps with creamy chanterelles ice cream;” though it tasted more like Veal and Risotto with Chanterelle Sauce and Snap Peas.
The finale, Frozen Cappuccino with a Raspberry Cream Slice.
The forecast called for the following day to be overcast with showers, and we indeed awoke to the mountains shrouded in beautiful clouds, our only inclement weather day of the holiday.
Cue the Rainy Day Plan…