A Day Trip to Colmar, France
Colmar, a town in the Alsace region of France, is a delight. Every description you read will include some reference to it being a “fairytale,” which sounds completely cliché until you visit and realize it’s completely true. This medieval town really is straight out of a storybook. There’s no better description. Just look at it!
Raunaq and I visited Colmar as a day trip in early May. We were driving to Baden-Baden from Zürich, and decided to add in a stop in France along the way. There wasn’t much in terms of an agenda other than exploring, eating, and being utterly enchanted. Living in Switzerland means that I am no stranger to extremely attractive little towns - and I’ll admit, I am a sucker for extremely attractive little towns - but this one takes the cake.
Colmar overflows with whimsy and charm at every turn: the pastel-painted houses with their slightly askew shutters, the narrow canals, the cobblestoned streets, the flower boxes in the windows, the delightfully crooked lamp posts. Everything about it is just so dang cute. I was immediately smitten.
It’s the type of place that, in my opinion, is made less for proper sightseeing, and more for leisurely strolling. So that’s what we did. Raunaq and I wandered through all the different areas, in and out of the lively squares in the old center, by the half-timbered houses lining the canals in ‘Petite Venise’, and along the individual streets and alleyways that once belonged to the fishmongers, the butches, and the tanners. A town this picturesque is definitely not off the tourist radar, but even with the crowds, Colmar still manages to captivate. We were there on a busy spring Saturday, but even still, it was easy enough for us to get lost in the maze of streets, to round a corner and find ourselves completely alone.
Colmar, and the whole region of Alsace, is also a gourmand’s paradise. There’s a covered market at the edge of Petite Venise, filled with stalls selling the type of goods you’d expect from a European village - soft cheeses, cured meats, fresh breads, olive oils, seasonal produce. The market is worth a walk through, but I thought that all the small speciality stores in town were even more fun to browse. Even if you somehow manage not to buy anything, the simple act of popping in and out of the shops, perusing all the different gourmet offerings, feels like a cultural experience in itself. Alsatian cuisine pulls from a mix of French and Germanic styles, and you see both influences everywhere. Colmar is also the capital of Alsace wine region, so there is no shortage of excellent wine to try and buy.
But perhaps the most memorable moment of the day was lunch. Every article I read about food in Colmar raved about the Alsatian tarte flambée, a wafer-thin flatbread typically topped with crème fraîche, thinly sliced onions and lardons. It’s the thing to eat whilst in Colmar, and I was looking forward to trying it. Most restaurants in town will serve this dish. But, it turns out that most restaurants will also book out days, or even weeks, in advance. I had a few popular places bookmarked for us to check out, but each one was full, with signs on the door announcing “no seats.” It seemed impossible that we would go hungry in a town like this, but by 1pm, our lack of reservations made eating lunch seem like a daunting task.
Making our way back through the outskirts of the old town, we came across a small cafe with a faded coral exterior. The name of the place, Au Croissant Doré, suggested it was a bakery more than a restaurant, but there was a chalkboard sign outside with a menu du jour, so we decided to try our luck. We managed to find a free spot inside, at a table right in front of a window displaying all sorts of delicious-looking cakes. The walls were painted a bright yellow and pale violet, and covered with vintage Art Nouveau posters, old clocks, and framed black-and-white photos. Each bistro table had its own antique lamp. Antique tea kettles and decorated coffee tins lined the shelves. And there was a French couple, an old man and even older woman, managing the tables and the kitchen. It had the atmosphere of someplace slow, local, and timeless. For the umpteenth time that day, I found myself immediately smitten. It was one of the most charming cafes I’ve ever visited.
The older man came to our table, and we ordered two tarte flambées, one without ham for me. He firmly shook his head - no no, it’s not possible without, and pointed to another item on the menu. This one for you, he said to me in French, the tarte aux trois fromages. I was slightly disappointed, but mainly amused that he wouldn’t let me order it that way, as though it was impossible to make such an alteration. Because of course, a tarte flambée simply is not a tarte flambée without the bacon, and it would be a travesty to ruin a classic dish this way. But of course. So I agreed to the savory cheese tart instead, and ordered two glasses of the Alsatian Riesling as well. Our wines arrived in goblets with long emerald green stems, filled to the brim.
Almost thirty minutes later, the tiny old woman emerged from the kitchen, hunched over, holding two plates in her hands. The moment I saw her, I knew three things to be true: 1.) Those were our tartes, 2.) She had made them herself from scratch, and 3.) They were going to be delicious. Yes, yes, and yes. I love it when the food matches its environment, and this food tasted like it came directly from a French grandmother’s country cottage. We savored each buttery, cheesy bite, and didn’t leave a single pastry flake on either plate. I may not have gotten my tarte flambée, but this unexpected meal was even better.
After lunch, the strolling resumed. Our goal was to find dessert, but instead, we were lured into an all-too enticing cheese shop (Le Goût du Terroir), and plied sample after sample from the very friendly cheesemaker. It was impossible to choose the best one, so we ended up spending an exorbitant amount of money on four types of Alsatian cheese to take home with us. So, of course, we next had to go to a wine shop to find some Riesling and Gewürztraminer varietals to pair with each, and after that, to a bakery for a crusty baguette. Cheese, wine, bread - it wouldn’t be a true French day trip without!
And then, as the afternoon came to a close, we made our way to the square in front of the gothic Eglise Saint-Martin church, for a local beer and some more people-watching.
There’s probably more to do in Colmar than walking and eating. But honestly, when in a fairytale-esque French town, I think those two activities are the very best ways to spend the day. But no matter what you do, I promise you will be well-fed, aesthetically-pleased, and totally charmed. I know I was.
