First trip to Annecy sharpens my taste buds for the French Alps

Way back when I was lamenting the departure of my friends Cora and Didier from the UK (and the cost of their 2-Michelin starred farewell dinner), I couldn't have predicted all the fun I'd have visiting them in Luxembourg in the years to come.  Many blog entries attest to what followed.  Now, they've moved to France, and I'm ready for fun.  I still miss my friends being right up the road, but as long as they keep moving to fantastic weekend destinations, I'll cope.

My new part of the world to explore:  Annecy.

It's a picturesque French town on the northern tip of an eponymous Alpine lake, with all the scenery you'd expect.  Deep, crystal clear waters.  Bike paths, promenades, gardens and marinas around the lake.  A ring of craggy mountains.  Alpine chalets, meadows and church steeples.  And, because it's just over 20 miles from Geneva, tasteful suburban villages (we were in one of these) populated by prosperous white collar commuters who can't face the extortionate property prices in Switzerland.

With its water sports, walking, sumptuous scenery and fairly dependable summer weather, Lake Annecy is a well-known holiday destination in warmer months.  But I can't imagine a better introduction to any Alpine setting than at Christmas time.  The mountains were snow covered, the town decked in tasteful Christmas decorations.  It was the first weekend of their Christmas market, and vendors were just setting up their traditional wooden chalets with tempting displays of jewellery, crafts, gingerbread, candles, mulled wine and luxury food items.

The Old Town spreads for about half a mile around where the river, Le Thiou, runs into the lake.  The castle of the Counts of Geneva (this was once their base, and a much more significant spot than Geneva itself) sits on a hill.  A warren of four or five particularly charming streets winds beneath it.  The architecture mixes everything from Medieval to 19th century in a tasteful melange that makes most views postcard-worthy.  Especially when you catch a snowy mountain peak in the background.  And unlike the English high street, the shops here tend to still be individually owned.  There are plenty of galleries and unusual boutiques, like the store selling highly-scented, hand-made soaps created by a corporate exec who cashed in and retired to a gentler form of life.

Walk more than 10 minutes, however, and you're into humourless, brutal concrete architecture of the 20th century.  We wandered down this way as it's where the city had set up the Christmas skating rink and the food court.  You can forget architecture when you're watching happy children while sipping mulled wine and eating a fried foie gras sandwich.  Yes, foie gras as street food.  Only in France.

But beyond the Christmas season, once you've wandered the Old Town the appeal is very obviously the lake.  19th-century gardens radiate back from the town hall into the lake, offering stunning views.  There are bicycle and walking paths all the way around.  Our brisk trudge along icy gravel, looking out at misty views, was beautiful despite the chill, but I can imagine going for hours in nice weather.

In addition to sightseeing potential, Cora and Didier have also kept up the culinary standards in their latest move.  Native cuisine is hearty mountain fare, dominated by the happy cows that munch all that Alpine meadow grass.  Thus steaks, fondue and raclette all feature prominently on menus.

Our most delightful meal was in a tiny, family run spot in Cora and Didier's village.  They didn't even have a sign, and from the outside it looked like just another house.  Limiting it pretty much to locals who are all on a first name basis with the owner/cook and her assistant, who specialise in fondues and cheese-laden pizzas made fresh in the wood-fired oven in the centre of the dining room.  I'm confident we'll be back, though I must remember to ask them to halve the cheese if I get pizza again.  (My husband and Didier, meanwhile, devoured a sizeable vat of bubbling fondue between them with ease.)  God help any lactose-intolerant visitor to this region.

Our most elegant meal was in the Brasserie St. Maurice in the Old Town.  Its ground floor is deceptive, looking like little more than a humble bar, but head upstairs for white tablecloths, cozy stone walls, mirrors and elegant cuisine.  Our best view, Le Bistrot du Port, occupying a purpose-built modern building with a boathouse feel right on the water.  Great atmosphere and unusually large portion sizes make this a fine spot for big, boisterous family gatherings.

Not a bad start for a weekend visit.  Now that we've had our appetiser, we're eager for the next course.  Getting inside the castle.  A long bike ride along the lake.  The grand Imperial Palace hotel and casino.  Maybe even a little local wine tasting and a visit to a cheese producer or two.  Cora, get researching that, will you?  We'll be back at Easter time.