Emily in France 🇫🇷 An Alsatian Adventure

My legs ache, but my heart is full

I haven't always trusted my body to do the things I ask of it.

I was pretty out of shape as a kid, forever bringing up the rear when we ran the mile in gym class or missing an easy pass in soccer. It didn't help that I only found out just how nearsighted I was when I was nine years old; by then, my sense of direction was already an in-joke: My father was forever telling my younger sister to look out for me when I was crossing the street; when he pointed out beautiful trees or soaring eagles as we drove through the countryside, I would always miss them.

(Part of that was because my nose was always in a book. But only part.)

I remember often opting out of activities for fear that my body simply wouldn’t cooperate: long runs to Smolak Farms for cider doughnuts, bike rides to the woods to go geocaching. I remember almost refusing to go punting on the Cam because I was afraid that I would cause the boat to tip. Almost.

But this weekend, as part of a story I’m working on for the BBC, I took myself way out of my comfort zone with a massive challenge: Hike through the Massif des Vosges, a mountain range in eastern France, in search of hilltop cheese.

The Munster valley is one of many areas in France that practices transhumance, the time-honored tradition of leading animals to graze in the mountaintop pastures for the summer. Given the recent recognition of this tradition as UNESCO World Heritage, I was on a mission to delve into the history and modernity behind the region’s fermes-auberges, the hilltop cheesemaking facilities that have, over time, been transformed into inns. My mission was to complete the trip without relying on cars in any way, which meant I’d only have my feet (and the SNCF) as means of locomotion.

I reached my departure point of Metzeral by way of three trains from Paris. Anouck Sittre, a representative of the tourism board, was there to meet me and help me get used to orienting myself. Luckily, the Club Vosgien has been marking trails since 1872, and armed with a trusty map, even I felt confident I could follow the right path to my first destination.

We reached Gaschney around lunchtime, stopping at this former ski resort to picnic…and welcome a subtle mist.

Two hours later – completely drenched – we reached the route des crêtes and the Hohneck – the third highest summit of the Vosges Mountains and the highest point of Lorraine.

There, we checked in at our inn for the night, the Pied du Hohneck, before heading up the road to meet Florent Campello, a passionate cheesemaker leading the charge to defend the region's local cow breed, the Vosgienne, which he dubs the most beautiful cow in the world.

I kind of see his point.

After chatting with Florent and witnessing the evening milking, we returned to the inn famished. Luckily, the staff was more than able to come to our aid with their version of a repas marcaire, the traditional meal served in fermes-auberges or farm-inns of the region. We started with an atypical but delicious mirabelle terrine, accompanied by a salad with a delicious, nutty vinaigrette.

I then opted to continue with the traditional smoked collet (pork shoulder) served with roïgabrageldi (slow-cooked, ultra-buttery potatoes) and a slice of Munster cheese on the side, the most frequently-served main in any menu marcaire.

Rain pounded on the roof all night long. The next morning, we waited out the storm before descending the somewhat treacherous paths back into the valley, rivulets of snowmelt marrying with the rain to cause our boots to slip and my tired legs to tremble with the effort.

On our way, we were lucky enough to glimpse wild chamois in the distance, and we wandered through thickets of wild blueberry plants that would surely bear fruit come July… if the weather stopped acting like November.

When we reached Metzeral, Anouck said goodbye, and I headed on the second leg of my trek up to the Petit Ballon. I’ll admit, suddenly being solo wasn't easy. My legs were aching, my shoes slipping on the wet stones. I managed to get myself lost within the first 20 minutes of my hike, but I stayed calm and remembered Anouck’s advice, retracing my steps and finding the marker I’d missed before continuing on my way, checking every once in a while with trusty Google Maps to ensure I was at least heading in the right cardinal direction.

When at long last, I glimpsed the Rothenbrunnen ferme-auberge, I felt like I was coming home.

This family-run spot will be the main focus of my story for the BBC, so more on them in a few weeks. I got myself settled and showered, warming up in the dining room with a glass of Gewurstraminer…

…and yet another menu marcaire.

This one featured a hearty pork-filled tourte made by Frédéric, who runs the inn alongside his wife and sister-in-law, both of whom were raised here, as well as his son, who mans the farming side of the operations.

Daughter Marie makes the cheeses, including traditional Bargkass and Munster hand-washed with love by Frédéric.

I finished things off with a delicious slice of wild blueberry pie.

I crawled into bed for some long-awaited rest; that night, the family’s cows spent their first night of the season under the stars.

The next morning, legs protesting, I walked back down the mountain into the village of Munster, which I firmly believe was the village that inspired the “provincial town” in Beauty and the Beast… without all the misogyny.

I timed things out perfectly. After a lemonade and a rest, I walked over to the train station, where a sudden thunderstorm washed me back to Paris.

I had faced so many of my fears in the past two days: my lack of sense of direction, the worry my body couldn't keep up with what my mind had set out to do.

Cheese, it turns out, is a wonderful motivator.

Cheese of the Week

Munster has pretty much nothing to do with Muenster. This pungent, orange-hued cheese is a member of the washed rind family, its intense aroma stemming from the presence of Brevibacterium linens – a bacterium that is also responsible for stinky feet. (No, seriously.) While in Paris, much Munster is pretty intense (so much so that some of my food tour partners won’t let me bring it into their wine cellars), in the Vosges, it tends to boast a relatively mild heart with a pleasantly chalky texture and lovely lactic flavors. The orange rind, while certainly stinky, lends an umami flavor that I find absolutely delicious. (And all the more so when you can hear the bells of the very cows whose milk made it while you dig in.)

To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and tune into the Terroir Podcast, where Caroline Conner and I delve into France's cheese, wine, and more one region at a time.

What I’m Eating

if you want a truly masterful exploration of all things charcuterie, I implore you: Head to Arnaud Nicolas’ eponymous restaurant steps from the Eiffel Tower, where MOF charcutier Nicolas shows off his culinary prowess in more ways than one. More on the blog.

Where I’m Going

1. To Kodawari Ramen, to see what all the fuss is about (and probably wait in one of the famous monumental lines to do it).

2. To MOF pastry chef Laurent Duchêne's eponymous bakery in the 13th, to see if his croissant can dethrone my current fave.

3. To A la Folie Théâtre, to watch a production of Eponine, fille Thénardier, a play charting the story of one of the most misunderstood characters in one of my favorite novels.

What I'm Writing

1. I've got a complicated relationship with street food in Paris, but if you're going to eat in the street, these are the places I can get behind. For Bonjour Paris.

2. From the archives: I chatted with Cheese Journeys founder Anna Juhl to suss out five underrated regions every cheese lover should visit. For InsideHook.

3. From the archives: The croissant has been reimagined into a host of portmanteau pastries, from the cruffin to the Cronut. Now its latest iteration, the “crookie”, is taking Paris by storm. For the BBC.

Friends of Emily in France

I’m surrounded by some pretty exceptional entrepreneurs, writers, and tastemakers, and I think you should know about them too! From now on, each week, I’ll be profiling one person I think you should be aware of.

Rosa Jackson is a cooking instructor and Canadian expat based in France for over 20 years. She has made her home in Nice, one of my most-adored cities, thanks to its vibrant market culture and unique terroir. It’s there that she founded Les Petits Farçis cooking school, where she shares her favorite recipes with visitors to the vibrant Riviera. I’ve taken advantage of Rosa’s expertise many times, whether writing about ratatouille for the BBC or socca for Food52. And now, Rosa is sharing her wealth of knowledge with home cooks in her new book Niçoise.

This gorgeous book includes everything you could possibly want to learn about fresh pan bagnat, slow-cooked beef daube, and more. Order your copy now and take full advantage of this bounty all spring and summer long.

FAQs

In an attempt to bring you the content you crave, I've solicited your help. What questions can I answer for you? Drop them into the newsletter chat, and I’ll answer as many as I can!

Tina Lemna is a vegetarian, so she’s understandably curious about the best options in Paris. Luckily, the situation is far less dire than it was when I came to France as a vegetarian in 2004! Most restaurants have at least one vegetarian option, though the more classic the restaurant, the less inspiring it is – and if you're traveling with a group that wants to eat in bistros, that can mean a lot of salade de chèvre chaud.

It’s for this reason that I’ll be publishing my guide to places where both vegetarians and omnivores will be happy on Thursday. But in the meantime, here are two of my favorite spots for plant-based fare in Paris.

Plan D (22, rue des Vinaigriers, 75010) is a street food spot just off the Canal Saint-Martin known for moreish, copious sandwiches filled with seasonal ingredients. Two sandwiches are on offer at any given time, each characterized by its color: The White features a celery root schnitzel and white cabbage, apple, and fennel salad; the Red pairs a breaded-and-fried eggplant with tomato, paprika-spiked mayo, and chipotle.

Pristine (8, rue de Maubeuge, 75009) is not a plant-based restaurant, but of the nine savory dishes on offer at any given time, you can bet at least six will be vegetarian. I loved my visit to this spot this winter, feasting on an open squash raviolo, mushroom duxelles piled into crisp pastry, and herb-studded beetroot. I’m sure it’ll continue to impress with the bounty of spring.

What I'm Reading

1. This announcement that Paris is going to be home to a Cheese Palace next year. Swoon. In Sortir à Paris.

2. This story on why some people (including yours truly) are so bad at orienting themselves in space. In Knowable.

3. This story drawing parallels between how French elites are embracing English and how the Gauls of the past embraced Latin – as the language of the occupier. In L’Express. (In French)

A bientôt !