Care for a story? Yes? Good, because you are going to read one now. This is the advantage of owning a site – I can write any shit I want and you, my readers, will swallow it. Or not – by closing the browser or moving to a different site, in which case you can simply sod off.
Anyway, there are two things you need to know to appreciate the story. First, when I visit a new location, it usually takes me a day or two to select a place where I want to have my end-of-the-day glass of wine, accompanied by reading. In rare cases, it’s my hotel’s balcony (and a small bottle of wine from a supermarket), but usually it’s a restaurant or a bar. Second, if I enjoy the location of my stay, I absolutely hate to leave it when the weather is nice, particularly when it’s nicer when at any other time during my vacation.
Today is my last day in Sölden, and I must say I enjoyed this skiing village quite a lot. Once you learn that it has more to offer than fucked-up mountains and go-go bars, you start appreciating it, and there are enough “hidden” places I still want to visit in the area to justify another week or two of holidays. One of the tasks for the future would definably be to eat at Gusto, a pseudo-Italian restaurant that even Italians enjoy visiting, as evidenced by the cars with South Tyrolean number plates parked nearby. Unfortunately, for various reasons (mainly because of eating too many Brettljausen elsewhere), during my holidays I went to Gusto exclusively for the final quarters of wine, mineral water and a few chapters of fantasy books.
My visit started well enough, as I found a small table in the distant corner of the terrace, despite it being Saturday and not too late in the evening. The table even had its own umbrella to protect from the rain. Not that any rain was in sight, for the first twenty minutes at least.
Then suddenly a strange noise came and I realized there was water falling from the sky all around me. Within seconds, it was not raining, it was pouring, as if someone above had overturned an enormous bucket of water over the village. As I finished my first glass of wine and was longing for a refill, I watched the waiters on the other side of the terrace, who saw me through a wall of water but had as low a chance of reaching my table as I had of reaching the safety of the restaurant’s interior.
The thunderstorm lasted for about half an hour, which was enough – as I heard the next day on the radio – to cut off a few nearby farms as well as get one unfortunate driver stuck between two mudslides. It also made me progress quite a few chapters into my book. And it significantly improved my mood, since my holidays ended with some of the crappiest weather possible.
Now, why I am telling you this extremely dull and irrelevant story, you may ask? Well, it is because the Brettljause of Gaislachalm was even duller. All the ingredients were of supermarket quality, which especially surprised me because there are hardly any large supermarkets at the end of the Ötztal valley, where Gaislachalm is located. The restaurant is extremely tourist-oriented and is even accessible with a special shuttle bus, but by the time I reached it around 13:00, it was not crowded at all.
I can say nothing bad about the service, and a few of the other dishes looked quite appetizing, but with much better alternatives around, I would not advise you to eat a Brettljause at Gaislachalm. Actually, the only reason to go for it would be if you are stuck in Gaislachalm due to a thunderstorm and all the other dishes have already been eaten.
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