Three French squares

There is a certain irony that we bring our small family thousands of miles over the ocean, only to spend our “vacation” following a logic-defying route based on other’s schedules, sleeping on sofa beds and in guest rooms. We are working on setting up household in one spot and trying to convince people to come to us, and we’re having a bit of success. After a day of compiling a list of the usual suspects, using up all our prepaid cell phone credits and scheduling them in, we realized we had a single day for ourselves. Eager from a break of the grind of social obligations, we looked at each other and said, “France!” And France it was.

Despite the German Transportation Department’s best efforts, we spent the better part of the morning weaving our way west through a sun-soaked Swabia, the infamous Black Forest (still had a few patches of snow), and down to the Rhine Valley. With a quick stop in Freiburg, home to our Alma Mater, we headed, mapless, through the Kaiserstuhl (sunniest place in Germany=great wines) over to our old haunt, the Île de Rhin.

Quite literally neither here nor there, it is technically France, though the cell phone reception is both German and French, depending on which way you’re facing. Our destination was Le Ranch, a well-tended restaurant on the less popular side of the island, attached to riding stables. One side of the dining room offers a glassed-in view of the riding rink, a welcome distraction while you wait for your meal.

It was to this restaurant that we brought our guests when they visited us in Freiburg: my cousin Nickie, who stopped by on a ski trip to Switzerland, and my mother, who didn’t yet know of our engagement. Together we enjoyed excellent food at typically fair prices, delving into exotic dishes such as stewed rabbit and creamed salsify. Twenty years later, the restaurant sports a new coat of paint (pink!) and kitschy farm decorations, but the riding rink and the regulars are still here. We settle on a traditional Alsatian dish called Tarte Flambée (or Flammekueche in Alsatian), washed down with a glass of local Riesling. I describe it to our non-francophone kidlets as a French pizza: impossibly thin bread dough covered in thickened cream, cubed bacon and thinly-sliced onion, topped with a hint of Gruyère, and slipped into a hot bread oven for only a few seconds. We can’t quite finish them, so we wrap the last few up in a paper napkin for later.

At home, shopping is just another chore: here it is pure adventure. We take our full bellies to Colmar, where we opt for LeClerc, a typical example of the French hypermarché. Small boutiques line the entrance, but we push our cart into a refreshingly empty store. After an hour, we have an embarrassing assortment of the finest things la Belle France can offer: salt, mustard, herbes de Provence, chocolate, wine, cheese, bread and pastries. We happily pack the bottles into the back of our car, nestling them between the bags of groceries and unused coats.

We have a dessert of chocolate éclairs in the parking lot, and then turn back. After a quick stop for fruit and tea in a friend’s garden, we wend our way home. In the fading light, before the boys start their backseat ‘he’s-looking-at-me-are-we-there-yet’ game, we spot a sign for some Roman ruins. It is the perfect spot to pop open the back of our rented Renault Kangoo for a tailgate picnic à la française. A Laguiole knife slices open a crispy baguette, which opens wide to receive a smear of Rouleau cheese from Rians, a little village outside the town where we met and married. The remaining Tarte Flambée proves tasty even when cold. Badoit mineral water is our beverage of choice, though the wine is seriously tempting. A glug of the fizzy water transports me to the café across from our hotel room in the Marais, my first taste of Paris so many years ago. A few bits of dark raspberry-infused chocolate are our dessert. We arrive home well past bedtime, and fall into bed happy.

We continued our indulgence the next day with petit déjeuner: cups of Banania (a tasty concoction of cocoa fortified with grains and bananas, an important part of a balanced breakfast for the cleverest kids), with pain au chocolat to dunk in it.

Our three meals have consumed most of the fresh food, but I know that the remainder of these three bags of groceries will fill the corner of my larder for the months to come, each time re-filling me with the satisfaction of this warm day spent with my family.