Every morning, Nicolas Turon pays tribute to his department with a funny, tender and knowing text, in the form of a declaration of love for the Moselle. He chooses an emblem belonging to history or current events and treats it in an offbeat way.
In the past, the adventurer cooked his steak under the saddle of his horse. It was certainly in anticipation of the passenger slab that Snack La Lorraine set up in the Sarreguemines station area, opposite Place Sibille, near the SNCF and bus stops. Facing the court and the war memorial, too: bockwurst was served there between two hearings, a hamburger to celebrate a divorce, and merguez spicy enough to wake up a dying person.
Sausage hut, bread saturated with sauce, trays of fries, nothing but ordinary for a snack, you might say; it is the ritual that makes the reputation of an establishment. And the day it closes, we regret what will no longer be there. Ask the high school students of Jean de Pange where they go to buy a tray of fries before jumping on the TER or the bus, now! Cinema outing, first date, post-cooked cravings, everyone has a good reason to eat fries.
In Sarreguemines, the snack marked the starting point for getting your driving license, too: for generations of apprentice drivers from Moselle, stage fright smells like grilled sausage.
Lorraine was a snack before the hegemony of the snack, capable of embalming an entire neighborhood with the promise of fries, of installing a fog of sleet, of transforming Sarreguemines into a city of earthenware and shiny fingers…
#French
