We're back from Lyon about 10 pounds heavier, and boy, it is indeed a gastronome's fantasy come true: amazing chocolates, yummy wines, restaurants galores, and delicious ice cream. I think I need to post separate entries for each our favorite highlights in Lyon. I'll start with our meals.

(Um, yes, there were many museums, churches, historical monuments, and beautiful architecture to explore (not to mention lots of shopping), but because our visit was so short, we mostly concentrated on satisfying our "culinary curiosity" this time: what is all the fuss with Lyonnais fare?)

We arrived on Thursday, settled into our bed and breakfast, and walked to Vieux Lyon, a charming neighborhood of medieval and Renaissance buildings, narrow cobblestone paths, ancient staircases, and one-of-a-kind bakeries, wine shops, toy stores, and cafés. I forgot to bring my 10-page "Lyon research" document from Paris, so we were left to our own devices this weekend in terms of finding places to eat. I asked the owner of a newstand and the owner of a toy store for recommendations. The woman at the toy store drew us a little map to one of her favorite restaurants called "Le Comptoir du Boeuf". None of the restaurants opened until at least 7:00 p.m. so we had time to read menus and get a sense of what was available. We considered a few other restaurants whose menus looked promising, but ultimately decided on Le Comptoir.

When we first walked in, I was tempted to turn around and walk out. The restaurant was completely empty, and the proprietress who was reading a newspaper at the counter, looked up rather disapprovingly when we opened the door and wheeled in a stroller. She said something in French that I didn't hear, but David explained that we had brought our own booster chair for Emmett. (Meanwhile, I was murmuring to David, "I think we should go... maybe she doesn't want us here....") But she waved us in and it was too late to back out.

She lead us to a non-smoking room in the back and watched with interest as David set up the booster seat for Emmett (the First Years' Fold-N-Go booster seat is one piece of baby equipment we could not be without! Many restauranteurs and other diners have looked on, fascinated, as we set it up.) When she saw Emmett sitting up in his chair at the marble table, she was charmed and said in French, "Just like a normal person!" Madame gave us our menus, asked what Emmett would like to eat (we told her we packed food for him), and offered to heat up his food. Then she proceeded into the kitchen where we overheard her telling the cooks about the "Chinoise", "the bébé", and something about his food. Sure enough, one of the cooks came out and asked if he could heat Emmett's food for him. We were at the start of a fabulous first meal in Lyon.


David and I each ordered a prix-fixe menu. Since both of us love tripe, you bet we ordered some piggy-part menu items. We started with a plate of Lyonnais pork in the form of oeuf mollet, jambonneau, and poitrine. It was all very tasty over the salad. We also shared a plate of their house terrine, made of pork and rabbit, with onion confit.



Next, we moved on to our main courses. I had an andouillette grillee a la moutarde violette (tripe sausage in a mustard sauce) and David had pied-pacquets avec gratin de macaroni (calves feet stuffed with lamb tripe and a side of macaroni and cheese). Dessert was nougat glacé avec coulis de fruits rouges (nougat ice cream with fruit coulis) and blanc manger a la bergamote, sauce caramel et beurre demi-sel (a dessert similar in texture to créme caramel).



But what really left an impression with us was the friendship that was struck between la Madame and Emmett. The restaurant began filling up briskly soon after we were seated and the owner was both serving dishes, putting orders into the kitchen, and answering questions about the menu. Yet, in the midst of all this, she found time to stop and give Emmett words of encouragement, little pats on the head, and squeezes on his hand. When he finished his dinner, she planted a kiss on his forehead, asked to hold him, and sat with him on his lap as for at least ten minutes as David and I finished our meal. She called out to another patron that she was "le babysitter ce soir" and let Emmett pat her face and bounce on her knee. Before we left, she gave him his first madeline (his first sweet French pastry -- how appropriate) and showered him with kisses. She was Emmett's first French grand-mère.

The next day, we set out to have lunch in the center of Lyon at a restaurant recommended by the owner of our bed and breakfast and listed in our Lonely Planet France guide. She said it was rustic food in a pleasant environment that would be very appropriate for Emmett. Sure enough, we arrived at Gaston Restaurant Agricole to find two huge brown rabbits in cages out front and a tractor parked inside. The decor was indeed like a farmhouse and rustic, but the servers were all very hip- looking young twentysomethings. We ordered a buffet menu and roast chicken.


Once again, I cannot emphasize enough how affectionate the French, young and old, have been with Emmett. It bowls us over every time. Within 30 seconds of walking in the door with Emmett in the Bjorn, one of the young pretty servers approached Emmett and planted a little kiss on his forehead, as if she had been expecting him. Once we were seated, she took his baby food to be warmed and presented it on a litte white plate with a teeny Emmett-sized spoon. Throughout our lunch, she stopped by at least a dozen times to stroke his hair, watch him eat, make him smile, and blow him kisses. She even fed him a spoonful of baby food, much to his and her delight. Unbelieveable. I hope she has many adorable children some day. The food was along the same line as the decor: more terrines, sliced hams, cold vegetables, and tasty roast chicken. Why do French chickens taste so much more like chicken than American chickens?


Dinner was at a small, homey bistro called Le Contretete, another restaurant recommendation from our bed and breakfast. It is adjacent to the upscale and famed Tetedoie, where we were invited to visit after dinner (after our visit to the gleaming, hushed dining room, we decided we'd come back sans Emmett on a future trip). Le Contretete was another perfect choice with Emmett in tow. We got a roomy table at a booth and service was warm and efficient. Dinner was good, but the highlight was dessert: a flaming creme brulee for David and a demi St. Marcellin cheese--a cheese for which Lyon is famous--for me.

Finally, we had read all about the famous bouchons of Lyon: charming rustic bistros serving hearty home cooking that features seasonal vegetables and organ meats. Many restaurants in Lyon call themselves bouchons, but in reality, there are only 21 certified, authentic bouchons. There is an accreditation board called the Associations des Authentiques Bouchons Lyonnais which determines whether the restaurant is a true bouchon. I was never able to find a list of the 21 certified bouchons, but discovered that there is a symbol that is posted outside of certified bistros.



Eating at a bouchon was harder than we thought. We found out too late that almost all bouchons are closed on weekends, most require reservations, and it was virtually impossible to walk into a bouchon and expect to be seated, even when we arrived on the early side (7:30 p.m.).

For our last dinner in Lyon on Saturday night, we had all but given up hope that we would be able to eat at a true bouchon on this trip. We had no reservations, most of the bouchons were closed because it was a Saturday, and we were turned away at the bouchon we did stumble across next to our hotel. It was getting too late, but there was one restaurant near our hotel that had the "authentic bouchon" symbol in the window where I was sure we wouldn't be able to get a table because there was a crowd of people waiting outside. Magically, we were seated as soon as we asked if there was a table free.


We were seated upstairs at Le Mercière, and we each ordered a prix-fixe menu. I started with a Terrine de coquilles St Jacques façon Mercière (a scallop terrine); David started with Fond d'artichaut au foie gras Mère Brazier (an artichoke heart salad with foie gras). Both were amazing, both in taste and to the eye. Both the restaurant and the food were just slightly more refined than our previous dinners, but the prices were comparable: about 22€ per person for 4 courses, not including wine. Next, David had steak in a St. Marcellin cheese sauce while I had cuisse de volaille farcie, riz Basmati aux mouilles (a chicken leg with basmati rice). Dessert was more cheese (!!!) and then sorbet and chocolate fondant cake.

Can someone write us a prescription for Lipitor?