In which I no longer have to reach for upsides and get in a plug for my favorite basketball team.
I have been experiencing the onset of acute Germanophilia for a long time now. It all started with the innocent charms of German Rieslings, which led us to joining the San Francisco Chapter of the German Wine Society, and then to planning a trip to Germany (probably looking at 2009 for that one).
Closer to home, we have been seeking out German restaurants. Ideally, authentic German restaurants. With good atmo and a traditional feel. It was starting to look like a tall order. Not, like, Tim Duncan tall. But taller than the average dude.
So, when DH happened upon the Tyrolean Inn on the internets, our ears pricked up and we decided to head down there in the very near future. It is far enough away that we booked a room in a B&B for the weekend as well. The restaurant and the B&B are walking distance (okay, staggering. I like to end the meal with a nip of Goldwasser) from one another, and tucked among the redwoods. I cannot wait.