Fürstenfeldbruck, where I was born when bushy beards and flouncy flares were in fashion all at the same time, has its small town charms, but it’s definitely not a tourist town. There’s nothing to see. Except for this: Fürstenfeld Abbey.
The story, served up in twitterian brevity: In 1256, some Bavarian Duke executed his wife for adultery. Then it turned out she didn’t do it. Oooops. Too late to fix it with flowers, so he built a massive monastery instead.
Usually, the portals to the Abbey’s church are shut, or they only let you in as far as the iron-wrought interior gates, but, much to my delight, this time, the church was open to all. As you’ll see, it’s really quite… overwhelming. There’s not a square inch that hasn’t got stucco/gold leaf/a fat angel clinging to it.
The BEST thing about this place, though, is the restaurant. The food is (and always has been) absolutely fabulous, and it’s very reasonably priced.
And this was my lunch:
Delicious veal rissoles smothered in pepper sauce with spätzle (tiny flour ‘dumplings’ that are kind of like pasta). It was really quite picante, and I loved every bite!
Zwetschgendatschi – very traditional and seasonal. The plums are quartered and arranged on a yeast dough base, which isn’t actually sweet, and which really brings out the flavour of the fruit.
If you’d like to see a handful of pictures of my birth town, click here. There’s ice cream! 😉