Showing posts with label Restaurant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Restaurant. Show all posts

Friday, October 16, 2026

MOO (in Chamonix): Real Food in a Humane Haven

 
 MOO, Chamonix

So.  Here's how it goes.  You're in Grindelwald, Switzerland.  Early morning.  Leaving for Chamonix, France.  But there is no direct route by train to Chamonix.  So you ride a number of trains back the way you came in order to get to larger stations, catching more popular lines before heading west toward Chamonix, changing trains no fewer than 5 times, each train getting smaller, less populated, until you're on the narrow-gauge number from Martigny, clinging to a steep path, climbing up along cliffs, looking down into the valley's abyss just beside you, emerging from tunnels to even higher climes, to find...Chamonix.

It's how you get there.

And when you emerge from the Chamonix-Mont Blanc train station, you move away from the loud American voices clanging with the flat accents that have made you cringe for some hours.  You can be excused if you give in -- even when asked directions: "Oh!  Je suis desole.  Je ne parle pas anglais."  To you anyway....  You shrug, aching for a quiet lunch, and....

Head down the street from the station.  There are the usual tourist restaurants just here, there.  You can see the crowds of tourists clamoring.  But further on -- there.  Yes.  Those are locals. 

I don't usually discuss food in any detail in this blog, but in Chamonix, there's this: MOO.  If the huts high in Switzerland offer some unexpectedly solid country fare to hikers, MOO departs from what any ski-town pub offers and delivers real cuisine.

What drew us to MOO?  Those locals.  Sure -- a few tourists are at lunch, but mostly locals who dine there daily.  What's special about it?  The cuisine (and I don't mean "food").  They have three or so real chefs whose imaginative plates and refined skills you would never expect in a ski-town pub but also in a place just down the street from the train station.

Don't ask for a burger for lunch; sensibly, they won't do it and you will learn something.  The lunch menus, plats du jour, are different each day.  This is not pre-packaged, re-heated pub-grub.  Their plates are all created from local sources.

So.  Lunch: you have three options which are each unique -- say, a meat plate (that may be a curry, an Asian twist, or a French original), a fish dish (supreme, gentle), and a vegetarian dish (which even a meat lover would relish).  As we ate lunch there daily, we tried over a week of innovative dishes that one might expect to find in good restaurants in Paris or Reims.  There is brilliant consistency in the quality even with the daily variety.  And...if you need, they are quite conscious of dietary allergies.

But even before you begin the main, there are likewise innovative salads laid out: you serve ourself from the thoughtful options that are also made in-house, but include a generous and -- did I say "innovative"? -- world: potato salads (including one surprising sweet-potato salad hinting of ginger), pasta salads, carrot salads, beet salads, lentil salads, and, of course, various fresh greens and crisply blanched and dressed vegetables, as well as sliced brie and other cheeses, bread, and nuts.  Not only may you try them all, but you may return for more!  Amazing.  The offerings here change daily, as do the mains, but as with everything they serve, it is REAL food, not processed, packaged, or dare I say, "American."

Yes, and after lunch, desserts.  Real, created, traditional as well as innovative offerings -- even if it may be an after-lunch moment of imbibing (the espresso martini is balanced, not the over-sweet, foo-foo thing they tend to be in America). 


Hot and Cold: Chocolat Chaud et Espresso Tini.  C'est Magnifique.

As for their burgers (again...not to be ordered at lunch), I don't know -- we unfortunately never went there in the evening to eat.  They can only be as fine as the menu hints (real variety) as with their lunches. But look at the offerings: MOO Burgers/Evening.

Et combien?  And how much?  All this is astoundingly reasonable -- even economical.  How do they do it?! 

The staff: of course, they are locals, and are invested in MOO.  They care and you can see it.  MOO's motto is Walk in, Dance out."  You do!  The staff are central to that: they are delightful and will take time to talk a moment.  In less-busy moments, you get to know something of these people's lives.  Some are from the area (Seline, who has climbed one of the needles above Chamonix, and has a very bright, artistic son who, himself, is a rising climber), some from Sweden (from whence the owners hail -- ), and from England, like Ellie (who is also a professional in kinesiology).  They are talented, professional, and solidly genuine people with great senses of humor.

Moo is simply a marvelously humane haven.  I'm going to have to go back for an evening burger. 

MOO?  The name is from the first initials of the owners.  And Susuanna:

 
Susanna

Well, an owner will have to tell you that story and why her head is on the wall.

 Hej så länge, kompis....

 

Friday, May 27, 2011

Tattershall Castle

 From Kenneth Graham's Wind in the Willows:

   The [Water] Rat sculled smartly across and made fast. Then he held up his forepaw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. `Lean on that!' he said. `Now then, step lively!' and the Mole to his surprise and rapture found himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat.
     This has been a wonderful day!' said he, as the Rat shoved off and took to the sculls again. `Do you know, I've never been in a boat before in all my life.'
      `What?' cried the Rat, open-mouthed: `Never been in a--you never--well I--what have you been doing, then?'
     `Is it so nice as all that?' asked the Mole shyly, though he was quite prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and surveyed the cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the fascinating fittings, and felt the boat sway lightly under him.
     `Nice? It's the ONLY thing,' said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. `Believe me, my young friend, there is NOTHING--absolute nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing,' he went on dreamily: `messing--about--in--boats; messing----'


One place that over the years represents London life for me is the Tattershall Castle [link], a ship moored in the Thames.  No, you can't row her.  She's too big.  And she's permanently moored at the embankment.  She bobs in the waves, rises and falls with the tide, pitches in her moorings, and...doesn't go anywhere.  But she's fun to board on a social journey for all that.  After all, messing about in boats is the ONLY thing!

She has a nice restaurant below decks and two pubs above, fore and aft.  On nice days, you sit above decks on thick, varnished mahogany benches (as should be on a ship), and there are brass fittings (polished) studding the rails and gunwales.  You sit in the sun and watch boats working up and down the river.  On a rainy day, you can sit below in the restaurant and watch the river traffic out the windows.

Tattershall Castle

What is especially nice about having dinner and a pint on this ship -- and this feature is experienced most immediately by men, I suppose  -- is the helpful sensation one gets while peeing.  Yes.  It's true.

You see, you have a pint, sit talking and boat-watching for any amount of time, and then -- as the need becomes more evident -- head for the head (as they say on a ship).  So you stand there at the urinal, and the Tattershall bobs and rolls on the waves of a passing boat or sways in the strong tidal current moving up or down the river.  And as you sway you think (it's all very logical) -- "No!  No way!  I've only had one pint -- and food with it!"  One bloke along the urinal line pipes up: "Blimey!  Ah'm swayin' like six pints and Ah've only 'ad woone!"  He commented further on his savings -- it's not the cheapest pint in London.

Tattershall Castle in Her Glory Days

Which brings up a question: when exactly were her "glory days"?  She's certainly bringing in more money for her owners now without ever leaving a mooring than she did when underweigh as a lake ferry. And it's pretty soft work these days.

Ironies.

Not to dwell on beer (which is a marked and standard feature of life in England), but..."IPA" bitter stands for "India Pale Ale."  And if I drink one or two of these, you know what happens?  Yes.  I - P - A bitter....  After all, it's good for what Ales you.  Oh my Guinness.

My.  That was stout.

So boats and ships: England being an island has at the center of its collective identity the presence of the sea.  For most of the history of this country, if you wanted to get somewhere else from here, you had to go by ship, and then -- later in English history -- by plane.  Now, of course, there's the amazing Chunnel: the tunnel under the English Channel (or as the French call it, the Pas de Calais).

It's easy to forget England is an island, especially with planes and the Chunnel, but it remains, as Shakespeare called it,

 This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle...

Just think of England as a castle with a great mote round it -- or, it's sort of like a boat you can't row 'cause it's too big...and it's permanently moored.