This Weeklong, Food-focused Train Ride Through Europe Was an Unexpected Way to Taste My Way Through the Region

There’s a kind of magic to watching a landscape roll by through a train window—villages, vineyards, and mountains unfolding like a slow-motion film. In springtime, there are trees heavy with fruit blossoms and bright yellow rapeseed fields. Plus, there’s plenty of space to stretch your legs and time to visit the cafe car for a cappuccino.

In April, I had the chance to rediscover Europe—not just as a food lover, but as a traveler craving deeper connection. With a Eurail Pass on my phone and a week of train travel ahead of me, I boarded in Paris with two goals: to taste my way across five cities and three countries, and to slow down my brain to the pace required to enjoy gazing out windows, making train friends, and reading my long, juicy novel.

My journey began in Paris and swept through Reims, Mainz, Freiburg, and Zurich, offering glimpses of Europe’s rich agricultural heartlands and vibrant food scenes. Along the way, I met farmers, chefs, and makers whose lives revolve around the land and seasons.

Instead of airports and taxis, my travel time became part of the story—reading, writing, and daydreaming in sun-drenched train cars, and arriving in the city center ready to explore. Eurail (called Interrail for Europeans) acts as a synthesizer of Europe’s train lines, connecting travelers to 30,000 destinations across 33 countries.

In 2024, the top cities visited via Eurail were Milan, Zurich, and Rome. But one of my favorite parts about train travel is how it brings you to less popular destinations. All it takes is a Eurail Pass to hop on a train to Plovdiv in Bulgaria, with its ancient Roman theater nestled into the hillside, or Aarhus, Denmark’s second city that feels like a coastal secret.

Pro tip: The Eurail app also includes a great trip planner. Even if you don’t purchase a pass, you can browse routes and scope out destinations.

Biodynamic Champagne in Reims, France

Our first stop, Reims, was steeped in history. We dropped our bags at the Continental Hotel—just across from the train station—and explored the High Gothic Notre-Dame de Reims Cathedral before hopping a commuter train to Champagne Augustin, a biodynamic vineyard tucked into the hills of Avenay. I wandered among vines awakening for spring and learned how nature and astrology lead the way here, alongside gigantic crystals stationed in the barrel room and vineyards.

Emmanuelle and Marc Augustin, who come from nine generations of winemakers, run the operation with their sons, Maxence and Arthur. We tasted eight of their Champagnes with Maxence. The wines tasted of minerals and life and something deeply rooted in the soil. “We respect the juice, we listen to the juice, and in return, it gives us so much,” Maxence said.

All of those bubbles made me hungry. L’Extra, in an elegant 1920s art deco building, is worth a stop. The restaurant is committed to inclusive hiring practices, offering training and career paths for people with disabilities. I was awed by a silky octopus terrine and a perfect cube of foie gras with candied hazelnuts.

Heirloom Apples in Mainz, Germany

It took almost a whole day on three trains to travel from Reims to Mainz, swerving back through Paris. The fruit blossoms were in full glory, foreshadowing our visit to Appel Happel, a multigenerational apple farm. The air smelled of blossoms and cider. Owner Ilonka Happel walked us through apple, pear, and plum orchards, led an apple tasting, and poured glasses of homemade boozy cider.

We wandered through Mainz, stopping at a parkside party for graduating medical students and the Gutenberg Museum, which explores the history of printing and Mainz native Johannes Gutenberg.

Dinner at Pankratz was nothing short of revelatory: sourdough from their own starter, smoky trout grilled over an open hearth, and vegetables just pulled from their garden. An all-German cheese plate for dessert was a standout—especially a raw milk, mushroomy beauty that oozed onto the plate. The meal celebrated hyperlocal sourcing and deep reverence for ingredients.

Brunfels Hotel had spacious rooms and a delicious breakfast to enjoy before heading back to the train.

Market Magic in Freiburg, Germany

In Freiburg, Germany’s Black Forest city, I spent a morning roaming the Münstermarkt, held in the town square since the 16th century. With 150 vendors, the market brimmed with wild garlic, alpine cheese, local wine, and hand-milled flours. It was the height of asparagus season, and white and green stalks were everywhere, lined up from pencil-thin to impressively fat.

With its cobblestone streets, colorful facades, and water-filled Bächle trickling through the Old Town, Freiburg feels like stepping into a fairy tale. It’s compact and walkable, with cafes on every corner and ivy-covered alleyways that invite lingering.

At the market, I was handed a slice of freshly baked rye bread topped with herbed quark, and a pot of raspberry pudding. It wasn’t just a market; it was the city’s heartbeat.

One of the market’s regenerative beef farmers, Isa Blattmann, joined us for lunch at Adelhaus, an organic vegetarian spot with standout herbed spätzle. “Farming can be isolating,” she said. “The market gives us community and connection.”

I loved sipping a lager at Kastaniengarten, a beer garden filled with families, first dates, and friends playing cards, and watching the sun set over Freiburg’s rooftops.

Zurich’s Plant-based Brilliance

Our final stop was Zurich. At Umami, an urban vertical farm in a nondescript office building, we saw microgreens grown under LED lights and fueled by energy from fish—a futuristic approach to feeding cities. We blind-tasted the zingy microgreens—The only one I got right were the spicy mustard greens. That night, at Restaurant Freilager, those same greens topped roasted beets, paired with smoked ricotta and biodynamic Swiss wine.

Slow Travel, Fast Connections

What struck me most about train travel wasn’t just the ease (no baggage claims, no security lines), but how it fostered intimacy—with people, place, and myself. I had time to write in my journal. My friend struck up a conversation with a sweet French man who shared his canelés with us. I met a grandma from California. I even finished that novel.

The Eurail Pass let us move seamlessly across borders and languages. It made Europe feel expansive and accessible at once. It also made the journey—the literal movement between meals and places—something I truly savored.