Bouchons, bullshit and brilliance

Friday 30th August

Another beautiful summers day in Lyon and a petit dejeuner at a local cafe is a perfect start to our funicular ride up the hill to the Church of our Lady, La Basilique Notre Dame de Fourviere and the Roman Amphitheatre. Just to be on the safe side, Flashman lights a votive candle, says a quick Hail Mary and wanders about this magnificent, gilded mosaic interior. I’m sure the €2 donation will help the poor, struggling Catholic Church maintain the building. Eschewing a glace, crepe or croquet monsieur on the way down we retire to the apartment in preparation for our lunch at Paul Bocuse, ‘Nord Brassiere’. Bocuse is still famous, despite his death 2 years ago as the rock star of Lyonaisse cuisine. Lady P reckons that Flashy should enrol in his cooking school – only €25,000 a year for three years. So while Paul won’t be in the kitchen, his spirit will we think; when the Michelin inspector asked him once, ‘who cooks in your restaurant when you are wandering the world doing TV appearances?’  he replied ‘The same people who cook when I am there!’

Lyon is regarded as the culinary heaven of France and the patron Saint is of course Paul Bocuse. So as we are ensconced in the Vieux Lyon surrounded by restaurants we expect to be with the angels. Firstly to Bouchons. These were originally simple homes opened to poor workers (probably building the churches) providing simply cooked meals from cheap cuts. The bouchons were run by the women cooks of the house and there are many famous ‘mothers of Lyon. Unfortunately many of the very average bistros brassieres and restaurants have attached the word bouchon to their name and provide a typical three course fixed price meal of very average food. This has led to an association of proper bouchons with plaques and all that fanfare. Lady P's research has found one such proper bouchon. It’s closed! Flashy calls out ‘chef where are you mate and is greeted by the owner having a pastis at the neighbouring bar. Sorry I am closed for renovation. Long story short he recommends his favourite bouchon around the corner and we obtain a reservation  for the next evening. If you like big portions of crappy offal, dry fish and sloppily presented peasant food, then  the bouchon is for you. We were disappointed and quite frankly were wondering if only Lyons 3 star restaurants would meet the standard. So that’s the bouchon bullshit.

    

Now for the brilliance. 

Ironically, almost directly opposite the forgetable bouchon mentioned above, on the left was our lunch venue for today, one of the late Paul Bocuse's  Lyon restaurants, Brassiere Nord. Well you could have knocked us down with a feather! Proper waiters in now ties, a formal dining room full of locals. We were treated to an aperitif. We used our excellent restaurant French to guide us through the menu, avoiding ears, nose and guts, to enjoy a brilliant three course lunch of escargot, quenelles of pike in lobster sauce, a perfectly ripe brie, and a shared poached peach and Lyonaisse praline tart.

Absolutely brilliant for €39. We accompanied the meal with a provincale rose of excellent heritage. The restaurant interior was ‘regal, railway carriage’ of the 1930’s with a stunning mosaic floor. Bespoke napkins and crockery, excellent service beautiful plating and proper portion control just added to the exquisite flavours of the meal. At last Lyonnaise cuisine to write home about, our faith in the French kitchen has been restored. Not to mention the flirtatious waiter who with a subtle wink ( well Flashy missed it ) allowed Lady Penelope to place a clean Nord napkin in her bag. Oui oui monsieur.  

We finished the day with a stroll across the Rhone for two positively pink cocktails in the Dome room bar of the Intercontinental Hotel. A last toast to our bourgeoisie lifestyle in the big cities. Tomorrow we are off to the country, for the start of our French provincial adventure.