After the hassle of arrival and car-rental, we spent six hours driving for the first time in three foreign countries, in a car we didn't know how to turn off. Luckily strangers were willing to help us (put the brake in, who doesn't know that?) at our lunch stop, and our visit to the immortal library at Saint-Gall helped too.
It was also a good thing that we got the last GPS available, or we would still be driving down the loopy streets of Lausanne.
It was also a good thing that we got the last GPS available, or we would still be driving down the loopy streets of Lausanne.
We asked the lady at our hotel for a dinner recommendation nearby, and she sent us to La Suite. We found a deserted restaurant, Sinatra songs blasting from the back, and were about to scuttle out when they pointed us to the elevator and a roof terrace, where a reassuring crowd of unidentifiable Europeans seemed to be enjoying themselves in six languages.
They seated us immediately, luckily under a good solid canopy, because thunder and rain soon began. More daring parties had to scuttle under shelter, while we enjoyed the cool breeze and a bottle of a local white, Saint Saphorin le Louchy.
Our appetizers kept with the cooling theme: an octopus salad with tomatoes and lemon thyme, and crab and avocado salad with Granny Smith apple. The chef was creative enough, though he had a habit of decorating all the plates with spots of yellow and orange condiments, and drizzles of balsamic vinegar.
We kept to the fish for mains as well: monkfish, which was a tad over-roasted, with curry oil and piquillo peppers, and simple planked maigre (sea bream?), which was far better.
All in all, a pleasant experience, always suppressing the thought of what it would translate to in dollars.
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