Something to Declare

Septième Poste. Turckheim et le retour à Zürich.

Le 8 Septembre, 2023.

The morning was fairly leisurely: breakfast and packing up for the 20-minute drive westward into Alsatian wine country. Of the many towns on the Route des Vins (some say Route du Vin), we picked Turckheim. The Route runs for 90 miles; the region’s 50 Grand Cru vineyards get the privilege of putting up their names on big signs along the hillsides. We learned that Turckheim gained town status in 1312, and was devastated in the Thirty Years’ War (1618-48). In the 18th century, it was rebuilt, thanks to the help of Swiss immigrants. The place names below were consistent with Alsace having ping-ponged between Germany and France.

We’d asked GPS to deliver us to Vignobles François Baur, and were expecting to find an estate in the middle of fields of grape vines. Mais non! The establishment was smack in the middle of Turckheim, right on the Grand Rue.

(Note that I had to carefully negotiate this narrow driveway both in and out, with Stef yelling instructions from outside the car.)

The proprietor was very knowledgeable and businesslike, providing us with a slew of facts about the grapes and the wines which, after a short while, began to blur.

There was also the decision to be made: To use, or not to use, the spit bucket. (I remember my very first visit to a winery, in California, when this question was presented, and I’d declared, “I’m not spitting out anything!” Whereupon Susan, my late wife, snapped her fingers and held out her palm, “Car keys.”)

We tasted a Pinot Blanc, a Pinot Gris, a couple of Rieslings, and a Pinot Noir. Also a Muscat, which had a slight tinge of Gewürtztraminer on the nose. Stef obediently used the spit bucket. (Regarding myself, as the lawyers say: Further deponent sayeth not). Came away with an assortment of 4 bottles.

On the way out of the winery, we saw a truck laden with grapes, ready to start their journey to the barrel and the bottle:

Like almost everywhere in Alsace, the town of Turckheim is utterly charming.

We took the winery proprietor’s recommendation for a lunch spot, right next door, the Caveau du Vigneron. I finally had a chance for the Alsatian signature dish, Choucroute Garnie (sauerkraut with 5 assorted meats):

and Stef went with the Veggie Schnaka, three enormous boules of vegetables, swimming in a broth of garlic and pine nuts.

Both quite good, although I could almost feel my cholesterol level on the rise (forgive me, Rhoda). The drive back to Zürich West was uneventful, and it felt good to be “home.”