We shook ourselves out of our small town slump last weekend and headed for the beer halls, beer gardens and birkenstocks of Munich. It didn’t even matter that the weather was a little cooler and rainier up there. Because there was beer, birkenstock shops (for Matt. I just bought postcards) and international food choices.
It isn’t necessarily true that Italian food is the best in the world, but it is true that Italians believe that Italian food is the best in the world. They believe this to the extent that not only do they prefer to eat only Italian food, but they also actively dislike non Italian food.
And so, even though Germany doesn’t win the hyperbolic food praise often bestowed on France or Italy, we went and we ate. Burritos and margaritas for dinner (Matt won over my preference for a Vietnamese restaurant), scrambled eggs with goat’s cheese for breakfast, a fine beer garden feast of grostl, giant pretzel, two types of sausage, three beers and a sweet pastry thing (there were no Bavarian style doughnuts left) for lunch, and then we realised that that was quite a lot of food, actually, and after a walk and a nap, we even felt a little ill. So lunch was followed by only the lightest of dinners: a cup of tea and a glass of wine. We spent Sunday morning wandering the Munich Residenz and were recovered enough by lunchtime to visit a beer hall for a beer and a bite, before buying some pastries for the road. So maybe we didn’t do a lot in Munich, but we did it well.