Düsseldorf for the weekend

Rated one of the world’s most live-able cities and one of Germany’s most affluent, the capital of North Rhine-Westphalia offers major league modern art, romantic walks along the Rhine, über posh shopping and an old town that calls itself the biggest bar in the world.
Saturday breakfast:
You can follow in the footsteps of Gorbachev and Pavarotti nipping into the Café Heinemann which is celebrating 75 years of serving quality kaffee und kuchen. The Bahnstrasse branch is the perfect place to fill up before an assault on the shops round the corner on Köningsallee. The showroom in the front is filled with cholesterol boosting confections like the almond-liquor-cream filled herrentorte, award winning champagne truffles or the towering black chocolate baumkuchen. Out the back is a classic old café with leather chairs and dark wood tables serving up creamy coffee and a renowned breakfast selection.

Saturday morning:
Köningsallee is Germany’s most exclusive shopping street. Behind the vitrines are shimmering gold dresses, antique broaches encrusted with rubies, and ermine overcoats, a snip at €13,000. The posh stores are mostly arrayed along the eastern side of the street opposite solid ranks of banks and office blocks.
Between them, along the kilometre-long thoroughfare, are two stately rows of horse chestnut trees and a shady canal cut by low arched bridges. This used to be called Kastanienallee after those conker trees until 1848 when a visiting king of Prussia was pelted with horse muck by disgruntled Rhinelanders, causing the local burghers to make things up to the monarch by naming the avenue after him.
Aside from the international designers, D’dorf is proud of being at the forefront of German fashion with the likes of Sabine Schumacher and Peter O. Mahler, not to mention supermodel Claudia Schiffer who started her career here.
Most of the streets leading off the Kö are also lined with chic boutiques and the odd quirky store like Manufactum _ a marvellous place selling a completely eclectic range of goods from lederhosen to garden hoses, tin trains to Trappist ales. The common theme is that everything is hand made by small manufacturers, with a special section linked to goods made by monasteries and convents. (https://www.manufactum.com/).
At the northern end of the Kö the avenue broadens out and is surrounded by department stores, like the Galeria Kaufhof. These may be ubiquitous in Germany, but a good place nevertheless for those who can’t afford a €1,000 blouse, to pick up a more modest souvenir like a clay pot of AB mustard, a red-and-white Fortuna Düsseldorf scarf, or a snow done showcasing the cart wheeling kids who are a symbol of the city, featured in X-shaped statues around the town.
Lunch:
Düsseldorf’s Altstadt is something of a misnomer. The old town was almost entirely rebuilt after the city centre was devastated by allied bombing raids in World War II. Despite that, the tightly packed streets convey something of the aura of the medieval city. It’s mostly pedestrian and filled with cafes, restaurants and beer houses that have earned its moniker as “the biggest bar in the world.
Within this warren are four old brewery pubs where they make the local specialty alt beer on the premises. Schüssel, Uerige, Schumacher and Füchschen all make alt around the old town _ their beer houses are huge, bustling places, but also manage to stay cosy due to the interlocking rooms lined with woodwork stained to the same the copper tones of their ale and decorated with old etchings or fading photos of celebrated former guests. There are several other alt producers scattered elsewhere around the city. Alt is a refreshingly sharp brew. Served in small, narrow glasses, it’s not a strong as most German beers and is designed to be drunk in quality. In fact it’s much like the Kölsch served in Düsseldorf’s great Rhineland rival Cologne (although natives of either city will argue strongly that their brew is the best.)
The beer halls of the Altstadt don’t mess about. Food here is rigorously traditional, but provides great snack opportunities. How about Flönz – a curl of shiny cold blood pudding served with chopped onion and a slice of black bread at the Zum Uerige. http://www.uerige.de/.
The beer made on the premises is considered by many to be the best in town. Other options include thick pea soup, known as ähzezupp; halver hahn, not half a chicken, but rye bread served with a slice of cheese with caraway and onion; brawn; or mettbrötchen, minced pork rolls.
Saturday afternoon:
Take a stroll round the Altstadt: the Berg platz overlooking the Rhine with its Baroque tower, all that remains of the once mighty palace of the Dukes of Berg after a fire in the 1870s; the ivy-clad 18th century Rathaus, with its horseback statue of local hero Jan Wellem of Paletine; the birthplace of poetic great Heinrich Heine; the gothic Catholic church of St. Lambertus and its Protestant counterpart the Berger Kirche.
Then head downriver along the Rheinuferpromenade, a riverside walkway which brought new life to city in the 1990s when the main road which cut the old town off from the Rhine buried in a tunnel. There are rows of café terraces and views of the endless barge traffic.
Keep walking and you come to the Rhine tower, a 234 meter spike offering great views of the city from a viewing platform are revolving restaurant at the top.
Just beyond, is the MediaHarbour a new development on the river port which has become a showcase of new architecture, most notably Frank Gehry’s jumble of leaning towers clad in whitewash, redbrick or shimmering steel. The MediaHarbour is a cool place to hang out, featuring the trendy Lido restaurant serving French food in a glass cube surrounded by water. At the Eigelstein café, there’s even an outpost of Düsseldorf’s great rival, serving Kölsch beer and Cologne cooking.
Saturday night:
Returning for more beer in the old town is always an option. Zum Schiffchen is reputedly the city’s oldest eatery, dating from 1628. Tuck into liver dumplings with sauerkraut and mash, and kidneys served in a creamy Düsseldorf mustard sauce. It serves Frankenheim alt. http://www.brauerei-zum-schiffchen.de/.

At Zum Schüssel there was himmel und erde (heaven and earth, aka: hot black pudding with mashed potato and apple puree spiked with onion) or Stadtschreiberschmaus _ pan fried leberkäse (liver paté) served with fried spuds, baked onions, fried egg and green beans.
http://www.zumschluessel.de/
You are unlikely to pay more than €15 a head at any of these places. To ease all that down, head to the Kabüffke hole in the wall bar for a glass of Killepitsche, a cherished local herb liquor.
Round off the evening at Roncalli’s Apollo a much loved cabaret replete with acrobats, dancing girls, mimes and magicians. It’s been going since the 1890s, but this year is celebrating 10 years in its new venue under the Rheinknie bridge. http://www.apollo-variete.com/.
Sleeping:
Top of the range is the majestic Steigenberger Park hotel at the top end of Kö. Five star luxury, rooms start from around €200, but go much higher. There have some special offers at the moment, giving weekend nights from €98. (http://www.steigenberger.com)
The Stage47 has doubles from €160 (http://www.duesseldorf-hotels.de/) and the Burns Art Hotel from €145. (http://www.hotel-burns.de/) Both are trendy, arty places.
Cheerfully down market, the Hotel Haus Hillesheim has been in the same family for four generations. It has a nice kitsch bar, OK rooms and a reasonably central location at the southern end of the Kö. http://www.hotel-hillesheim.de/. Doubles from €60. They have a handy car park and will throw in a pass for free public transport for the duration of your stay.
Sunday breakfast:
Stay in your hotel and enjoy the typical German spread of hams, sausages, cheese, jams and breads dark and white. Coffee is not normally a highpoint, but these days you can usually ask them to rustle up a decent cappuccino or espresso.
Sunday morning:
Go north to Kaiserswerth, or south to Benrath.
Kaiserswerth is a history-packed suburb on the right bank of the Rhine. Surrounded by meadows and filled with baroque homes and cobbled lanes it feels more like a village than part of a great city. The U-bahn stop on Klemenzplatz a leafy square lined with cafés, like the cake-laden Café Schuster, the Tonhalle or Fuch amKemensplatz which serves Fuchschen alt beer. It’s a short walk to the Markt square with its high gabled houses and luxury boutiques. On a backstreet next to an old windmill, there’s a 19th century nursing home, where Florence Nightingale learned her trade. Overlooking a bend in the Rhine are the ruins of castle the built by crusading Emperor Frederick I Barbarossa to collect taxes on river traffic in the 12th century. There are romantic walks under rows of lime trees and some sunny beer gardens next to the castle or down by the little car ferry over the Rhine.
Benrath is at the opposite extreme of the city. The pink pleasure palace built here in the 18th century and its vast formal gardens were the playground Prince-Elector Karl Theodor, fun-loving patron of Mozart. The roccoco pile is up for World heritage status and contains the museum of European Garden Art. The grounds a filled with fountains, nymphic statues and swans gliding over ornate pools. Wikipedia says it was here that the late Austrian pop star Falco shot the video for his 1980s smash “Rock me Amadeus.” http://www.schloss-benrath.de/.
Sunday Lunch:
Try one of those Kaiserswerth beer gardens, or if you’re feeling flush check out Im Schiffchen, one of Germany’s most famous restaurants, run by French chef Jean-Claude Bourgueil, a holder of two Michelin stars who long ago traded the Loire for the Rhine. A typical dish would be Glanage et Cueillette de Fruits de Friches Ecrevisses, Mousseline de Cuisses de Grenouilles, Infusion d'Herbes, de Pousses d'Ail et Anis Etoilé for €42. Jean-Claude's is a more modest bistro on the premises, which has a take on the old Rhineland favourite himmel und erde, but substituting the blood sausage for goose liver. http://www.im-schiffchen.com/.
In Benrath, try the Schlosscafé, a pastel gatehouse at the entrance to the gardens serving refined light bites.
Sunday afternoon:
Get some culture.
The K20 Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen is one of Europe’s great collections of modern art. Picasso, Warhol, Pollack, Kirchner, Ernst, local boy Joseph Beuys and over 100 works of Paul Klee. Its sister museum the K21 features contemporary works from 1980 onwards. http://www.kunstsammlung.de/.
Sitting beside the Rhine, the Kunst Palast has its own permanent collections ranging from the medieval to German expressionists. Up to January it’s pulling in the crowds with its temporary show Bonjour Rusland, bringing French and Russian masterpieces from the great collections of Moscow and St. Petersburg featuring the likes of Monet, Van Gogh, Gauguin, Matisse, Picasso, Kandinsky and Chagall. http://www.museum-kunst-palast.de/.
Sunday evening:
If you’re seeking an antidote to all that sausage and beer, sushi would seem a good choice. Düsseldorf has one of the biggest Japanese communities in Europe. Many of the best Japanese restaurants are concentrated around Immermannstrasse or Klosterstrasse. The most renowned include Benkay in the Nikko Hotel, the Kikaku Ito, Nippon-kan, Yabase or the Naniwa noodle bar.
A more traditional option would be Weinhaus Tante Anna which has been has been serving up top notch Rhineland grub since 1828. Up to December, it’s offering a traditional winter goose menu for €42.50 comprising from foie gras with apple jelly, goose consommé with mushroom crepes, roast goose breast and leg served with red cabbage and pears, Brussels sprouts, potato dumplings and chestnuts glazed in honey. It’s finished off with a mouse of rum and spekulatius (Westphalian ginger biscuits) with marzipan sauce. http://www.tanteanna.de/.
If you can still move, try a concert. Düsseldorf is the home of German rockers Kraftwerk and Die Toten Hosen, schlagermeister Heino as well as hosting the Deutsche Oper am Rhine and a bunch of other classical music venues.
Getting there:
D’dorf is a two hour drive along the autobahn from Brussels, Amsterdam or Frankfurt, five from Paris, six from London and just half-an-hour from Cologne.
Düsseldorf international airport is one of Germany’s largest with direct flights to several European cites, North America and beyond.
The railway station is connected to Germany’s excellent high speed ICE system.
There’s an extensive and efficient regional public transport system running trams, busses and a metro around Düsseldorf and into neighbouring cities.

Tahli Ho! Spice hunt leads to exotic East Midlands

Tea was a mistake.
After stuffing ourselves to the point of exhaustion with the wonderful array of rotis and curries, farsan and daals at Bobby's famed vegetarian restaurant on Leicester's Belgrave Road, a nice cup of spiced chai seemed to be the ideal thing to ease our overworked digestive system.
Wrong.
The steaming mugs came with a complimentary selection of from the dazzling array of sweets on show at the takeaway counter _ syrupy globes in garish orange, saffron and cardamom mounds, lozenges of fudge tinted almond, chocolate and shocking pink edged with edible silver foil.
It was irresistible and necessitated a long post-dinner walk in the rain past the saris and jewellery and Bollywood DVDs in the bright shop fronts at the heart of one of England's most vibrant south Asian communities.

Like many of the restaurants around here, Bobby's serves food with its roots in India's western state of Gujarat, food dubbed the haute cusine of vegetarianism by no less an authority than the actress and food writer Madhur Jaffery.
Bobby's eschews not only meat, but also onions and garlic, although there is some confusion over whether this is because of adherence to strict Jainist principles, or simply because the cook's husband (like Prince Charles) does not like them.
There's nothing fancy about the décor. It's a brightly lit, colourful, cheery and reputedly named after a much-loved early-seventies movie of Bombay romance. The prices are pretty cheerful too. An all-you-can eat buffet for little more than a fiver, complete meal thalis for a quid or two more.
For the uninitiated, a thali meal involves a metal tray containing a collection of dishes each with a different dish.
We were three, and ordered two special thalis _ which included a selection of starters, a mixture of main courses, breads and a glass of cool lassi yoghurt drink _ and one Gujarati thali which had just a main course tray.
The starters were made up of farsan, typical Gujariti snacks. They included samosas with paper-thin pasty encasing a filling containing of potato, peas, cashews, ginger, fennel, coriander; bhaji fritters made with chickpea flour filled with potatoes, cassava and green chilli; kachori (delicate, pastry covered lentil balls); dhokla (fluffy, yellow sponge sprinkled with mustard and sesame seeds) with a couple of delicately spiced dipping sauces.
The thalis themselves contained a cornucopia of delights: buttery lentil daal (midway between a soup and a stew), shredded cabbage salad stained a turmeric gold, a selection of chapati and puri breads, crisp poppadoms. There's khichdi (a yellow rice and bean mash) with a bowl of and lemony sour kadhi sauce to pour over it. There was a curry of potato and chick peas, one with a richly spiced aubergine mix, yet another of fresh green peas and cubes of paneer cheese. One bowl had cooling mint-scented yoghurt, another a sweet, thick cream cheese.
It was immense. By the time we'd wiped out bowls clean with the chapatis and gorged on those free sweetmeats we could only stagger out into the street, to full to contemplate a purchase of takeaway cakes.
Leicester's Asian community was on course to make the city England's first with a non-white majority, until the recent influx of new immigrants from eastern Europe upset the demographic predictions.
But the city's gastronomic traditions are not limited to its eastern imports. The covered market in the city centre claims to be Europe's largest. Its display of fresh local fruit and veg (plus some exotic imports) in the market square is a foretaste of the delights on offer on by the fishmongers and butchers inside.
There are great blocks of Red Leicester cheese and wedges of blue veined Stilton (whose production is limited to Leicestershire and the neighbouring counties of Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire).
Leicestershire's other traditional gastronomic glory is the pork pie. Fine examples of this crusty morsel can be found in the market or the famed Henry Walker's butchers shop in nearby Cheapside.
Leicester city centre is a surprising pleasant place, with several pedestrian shopping streets lined with stately Victorian buildings, reflecting the city's past prosperity as a hub of the textile, engineering and footwear trade.
The Town Hall square is filled with greenery and a bubbling fountain supported by four winged lions. The St. Martin's Square and Leicester Lanes neighbourhood is filled with idiosyncratic little shops and cafes. There's a medieval, half-timbered Guildhall, where both Shakespeare and Cromwell are reputed to have stayed. Nearby, the gothic cathedral contains the tomb, but not the body, of Richard III who lost his crown and his life at the battle of Bosworth Fields where the Wars of the Roses came to an end in 1485.
At weekends, the jumble of pubs and clubs around Belvoir and Hotel Street are jammed with thousands of partygoers scantily clad in tee-shirts and miniskirts despite the chill October drizzle. The Grand Hotel _ now part of the Ramada-Javis chain _ is an opulent 19th-century pile in the midst of all that. It's a bargain at 65 pound a night including the full English breakfast, even if the rooms are in need of freshening up.
For a quieter time head out to the plush suburb of Oadby past the millionaires' row of mansions built by the former hosiery magnates.
The Cow and Plough is a country pub on the edge of the city. Opened only in 1989, in some old farm stables, it seems much older thanks to the collection of Edwardian pub memorabilia which the landlords have build up over the years.
Sadly the farm park which originally surrounded the pub fell victim to England's 2001 outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease. The pub has a great laid-back Sunday lunch atmosphere. It has its own brewery, the Steamin' Billy Brewing Co., named after the pub's Jack Russell terrier, making over a dozen award winning ales. The foods not bad either, ranging from giant chunky sandwiches like hot pork and cheddar served with salad and fat fries, to full meals like cod with fennel butter, or roasted pork with Steamin' Billy cider.

http://www.eatatbobbys.co.uk/

http://www.steamin-billy.co.uk/

http://www.goleicestershire.com/

By the Loire, cursed cats and the pike that got away

The Chateau de Chenonceau was under siege.
Battalions of Italians flooded through the wooded grounds; regiments of Japanese tramped the formal gardens; platoons of Poles rushed the bookshop, a rowing boat flotilla skirted the graceful arches over the River Cher.

"I've done Azay-le-Rideau and Cheverny, it was pretty tough, but nothing like this," groaned one Parisian veteran of the Loire Valley summer campaign as he manned the line in the stables-turned-fast-food-outlet.
Chenonceau it is the epicentre of the annual August invasion of the Loire's chateaux route.
The combination of its graceful towers and arches, its unique position astride the Cher, art-filled rooms and a scandalous history filled with the amorous adventures of French royalty draws tourists from around the world.
Fortunately Chenonceau's charm manages to survive the assault. The view of its arches reflected in the shimmering waters of the Cher is one of the great sights of France and a triumph of Renaissance planning.
Inside, there are paintings by Murillo, van Dyke, Tintoretto, Poussin, Veronese, Rubens. Bed chambers are hung by the richest Flemish tapestries, graced by vast ornate fireplaces and silk draped four-poster beds. Every window offers a glimpse of the river or the formal gardens below.
Those four-posters have seen some wear and tear over the years. Chenonceau is known as the chateau des dames, and this delicate retreat was long the favoured rendezvous for the French monarchy and their courtesans.
Renowned 16th-Century beauty Diane de Poitiers made the place her own while she was the favourite of King Henri II _ until his wife Queen Catherine de Medici kicked the mistress out.
A right royal schemer, Catherine became the power behind the throne in France while three of her sons became king. She ran affairs of state from the little office next to Chenonceau's library. A charming place, no doubt, to plan the massacres of Protestants and poisonings of rivals for which she was renowned.
One of the chateau's most richly decorated chambers is the room of the five queens in honour of such illustrious guests as Mary Queen of Scots and La Reine Margot, played fetchingly by Isabelle Adjani in the blood-soaked movie of the same name.
In the Francois I bedroom, there's a painting of three naked sisters _ the Mesdemoiselles de Nesle, who took turns as the mistress of Louis XV.
The helpful guide also explains how the mother of another of the Louis once threw a birthday banquet for her son and his chums with nude serving wenches on hand to grant their carnal and culinary desires. The era is captured well in Eleanor Herman's rollicking history Sex with Kings.
Just passing through, we had little time to visit the other great chateaux on the banks of the lazy Loire between Tours and Orleans. Just a peak at classical Cheverny _ the model for Tintin's Moulinsart _ and mighty Chambord where we were watched by a boar munching its way through the undergrowth of the surrounding forest.
On the eastern edge of the main chateau drag is the sleepy little town of Beaugency, which boasts its own 11th-century castle keep and brace of medieval churches. The Loire is wide and lethargic here, spanned by a 14th-century bridged considered such a wonder at the time, that many suspected a supernatural hand in its construction.
Local legend has it that the Devil build the bridge over one night aiming to capture the first soul that crossed it. Old Nick's plans were thwarted when a black cat scampered across at dawn, saving the townsfolk from damnation, but earnng the curse of witchery and evil eye for all sooty felines.
Overlooking the bridge, L'Abbaye de Beaugency, rebuilt in the 17th century after a fire, is now is an atmospheric hotel, with rooms in the old monks' cells. Many are duplex, great for families, with views over the sandy banks of the river. There are roaring fires, mounted stags' heads, monumental staircases and long, spooky corridors. A wide terrace beside the shady Loire shore is the perfect place for summer breakfasts.
The restaurant features a tempting selection of sander and langoustines, lapin chasseur and rognons de veau a la grains de moutarde. Unfortunately, both times we've stayed there, the chef's been sick or on leave and we've been forced to dine elsewhere.
With Beaugency perched between the Solonge, the Beauce and the Touraine, three of France's great culinary regions, that shouldn't have been a problem, but both times we ended up disappointed by restaurants brandishing snooty staff or substandard grub.
On our most recent visit we tried L'Abbaye's rival, L'Ecu de Bretagne, an old post inn on the town square, where there's a fine market on Saturday mornings replete with crispy rillions of pork belly, andouilles and andouillettes, fresh local fruit and veg and ash sprinkled Saint-Maure goat's cheeses.
Here the rooms in the main building are cosy and cheap at 70 euros for a double, but a bit rudimentary, those in the outbuildings have been restored to a high standard but come at a higher price.
The restaurant came highly reputed. Comfy despite its size, it's a typically old school French countryside place, with cheery waitresses, an authoritarian sommelier and the expectation of regional cuisine of the highest quality.
We started on a bottle of Cheverny Point du Jour full of cool cherries and a hint of liquorice, then dived directly into the menu de terroir which began with a delightfully creamy terrine de chevre and finished with the pungent pick of the cheeseboard and a refreshing soupe aux fraises.
In between came quenelles de brochet, the restaurant's signature dish.
This is a speciality here beside the pike-invested waters of the Loire. These were fluffed up with beurre blanc and produced a light souffle texture full of fresh eggs and fine butter flavour.
There was just one thing lacking _ the brochet. I could detect hardly a soupcon of any fish. Maybe my brutalised Anglo-Saxon taste buds were missing some subtlety here, but the frown on the face of Parisian missus confirmed that this fish seemed to have gotten away. I asked the waiter if the pike were caught locally, he looked confused and muttered something about a cash-and-carry.
After a third disappointing dinner in a town which has seems to have everything it needs to produce gastronomic success, we were left to reflect that perhaps Beaugency's black cat had crossed out path.

http://www.ecudebretagne.fr
http://www.hotel-abbaye-beaugency.com
http://www.chenonceau.com