Walk round the market, La Croix-Rousse, and lunch at Le Cintra

On Sunday morning, it was back to the cafe for breakfast, and then we decided to go and have a look at the Marché Saint Antoine, along the bank of the Saône.

Not only the produce for sale looked great, but the atmosphere was very congenial - purposeful and upbeat. Why don't we have markets like that here? From time to time I haul myself over to Marylebone farmers' market on a Sunday morning, and in fact did so this morning. But I always find it quite a depressing experience - the range and quality of the produce is nothing like as good, it's eyebleedingly expensive, and worst of all, you're surrounded by people with children called Tarquin. I can cope with it for about two minutes max, and today, as usual, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. By contrast, the Marché Saint Antoine was a delightful place to spend half an hour and would be high on my list of reasons to move to Lyon (after wine pigs and proximity to Antic Wines). We weren't able to buy anything, since we didn't have any picnic gear with us, but thought we should get a self-catering apartment next time, in order to take full advantage.

After that, we explored the Croix-Rousse area which is another hill, close to where we'd been the previous evening. Here we discovered the remains of a Roman amphitheatre.

We then continued up the hill to the Place de la Croix-Rousse, where we had a Ricard in a pavement cafe that seemed to be doing good business. It was very sunny and there was a distinct possibility of spontaneous human combustion, so I was glad to go back down the hill into the shade. 

We walked along Rue des Capucins and discovered another natural wine shop which was closed, then ended up near the Opera. By this stage we were quite peckish, so when we came to another square with a restaurant that looked half-decent, we decided to go for it, but to sit inside where it was cool. This turned out to be Le Cintra. 

It had a sort of faded grandeur that we found appealing, and was clearly the place to take an elderly relative. Old-school, in other words, which suited me and G just fine.

We had a two course lunch - some fish and couscous...

... and a fine bottle of white Saint-Joseph.

For pudding, G had this amazing soupe de fraises. Soup seems an odd choice of word - we might call it a smoothie I suppose, but serving it in a bowl did work very well. I thought it was something I might be able to make at home, possibly with the aid of the blender that has stood unused for the past 5 years.

I had a Cafe Gourmand, which was perfectly nice, but as usual, G's choice was better.

As we left, we walked past a large government building, and it seemed likely that this was the source of most of their trade during the week. But we had very much enjoyed our lunch there, the formality of it and having plenty of space to ourselves.

Bouchon des Filles, 23rd May

After a lazy afternoon, it was time to head out again. We made our way north to the Place Fernand Rey, a little square where earlier we had located an interesting-looking wine shop. This was Le Vins des Vivants, and it also had a wine bar. In fact the bloke who was running it, who seemed to be by himself, was very busy dealing with the tables outside, giving us time to have a mooch round. They specialise in "natural" wines and I spotted Jerome Balmet's Beaujolais on the shelves.

We decided to have an aperitif outside ourselves. G had a glass of white Burgundy and I had a glass of something from Alsace, both around the 5-6 euro mark. Each of us liked the other's more, and we ended up swapping over. A clarinet / euphonium-playing duo added to the atmosphere - we came across them later in other places too, so I think they must be a fixture of Lyon. Let's just say a little goes a long way.

Then it was on to our destination for the evening, Bouchon des Filles. When G called them to book, he was offered a choice of 7.00 or 9.30 and had gone for the former. It seems that they now do two sittings a night which no doubt enables them to keep the price down. It's a fairly small place, maybe 30-35 covers, and everyone else was arriving at the same time, including some family groups who seemed to be locals. The table next to us remained empty and I was hoping they might not turn up, but then they did, about 20 minutes late, and turned out to be English. Argh! Our table was so close to theirs that it was impossible not to listen in, and hear him trying to persuade her that Lyon food is nice, really.

The wine list was charmingly hand-written and fairly short. We went for this Moulin-a-Vent Cuvee Lucile-Maud from Domaine du Granit which was admirable and went very well with our meal.

This was the starter - a mustardy lentil salad, some marinated beef, and a bowl of mashed potatoes with smoked fish. All quite rustic but very tasty.

For the main course, I had a chicken liver thing with mushrooms and a tomato sauce. I'd taken the flash off my camera so as not to be annoying, so the photo didn't come out very well. This was very good, but I had some menu envy as G had gone for...

...this black pudding and apple croustillade.

Next up was a cheese course and we both went for Saint-Marcellin. This was served in a fairly small quantity but was in excellent condition.

There was pudding. , and I had this "Trilogie de praline", which I enjoyed. The pink-coloured praline seems to be a local speciality as I saw some in the window of a chocolate shop the following day. G had an iced Chartreuse souffle which he described as moderate.

As the name suggests, the team at Bouchon des Filles is all-female and I gather that they wanted to do something slightly lighter than a traditional bouchon. We didn't visit any traditional bouchons, so I can't make a direct comparison, but the food served here was very good, the portions generous but not overwhelming, and at 25 euros it's seriously good value. It wasn't rowdy but everyone except the girl sitting next to us seemed to be having a good time. I'm glad I went, but generally I'd rather pay a bit more and go somewhere where the tables aren't packed in quite so closely.

Afterwards, we walked back to the hotel and spent the rest of the evening watching the kitsch-fest that is the Eurovision Song Contest. I can think of worse ways to spend a Saturday evening.

A walk round Vieux Lyon

On Saturday morning, we had breakfast at the Grand Cafe des Negociants which I'd spotted out of the taxi window the night before. Being tourists, we had the full petit dejeuner which cost 9.80 euros, whereas most of the locals seemed to make do with just a coffee. You could spot the difference between tourists and locals quite easily as we were dressed for summer whereas locals were muffled up in coats, scarves etc. It was actually quite windy, so I see where they were coming from.

After breakfast, we wandered north to locate our destination for the evening, and there was a certain amount of getting lost and having to get the map out etc. but eventually we did manage to find it, and then we crossed the river over to Vieux Lyon, the old/hilly bit on the left side of the Saone. We soon found ourselves in a charming square with an old-fashioned railway station, Gare Saint-Paul. Then we found some old streets to walk along.

We came to some stairs, which we decided to climb. Halfway up was a little house on the side, where two black and white cats were sitting on the windowsill. I was able to persuade one of them to come over and see us.

The other one wouldn't come closer, and G was convinced that someone would come out with a shotgun and shoot me if I trespassed on their property by going up to it, so it didn't get stroked and rolled around in the sun by itself instead.

View of staircase with black and white cat

After that, we walked along a street gradually winding upwards, and eventually reached the Parc des Hauteurs, which was absolutely idyllic and had an amazing view over the city.

We came to the basilica, where there were lots of tourists, most of whom seemed to have arrived in coach parties. We decided to go back down the hill.

A golden Jesus looking down on the proceedings

At the bottom, we walked along another charming street and then reached Antic Wines, one of the shops on my list. I hadn't realised what a treasure trove this place would turn out to be. We spent some considerable time there and located some choice items to buy, which I can't reveal just yet. Then, just as we were leaving, the bloke behind the counter told us that there was a little room at the back that we could visit, and also more stuff in the cellar downstairs.

Little room at the back

The cellar was reached by a dangerous-looking stone staircase missing the first step but it was worth the effort. It was full of the most amazing rarities - not just Rhone wines but also a lot of champagne, claret and Burgundy. It was all mostly beyond my price range, but very interesting to see that they had it. The sort of place one would return to if one's Premium Bond ever came up.

I was particularly tempted by this magnum of tres vieux marc de bourgogne, but had to resist!

We returned to the main body of the shop to collect my purchases, and found that a small gathering had formed and a chap with a fine moustache had brought along an old bottle of champagne to celebrate his birthday - it was the same year as him (1959 if memory serves). We were offered a glass, and it was very good, with a slight petillance. Another customer said it reminded her of fino sherry, and I could just about see what she meant. The atmosphere was very jolly at this point and the owner made a a comment about how they were also celebrating the fact that Francois Hollande had left the country. A little bit of politics! G was asked whether he was in the trade, and replied that we were amateurs which they seemed to like. Eventually we left, feeling very happy to have discovered the place and it would be top of my list for a visit if we ever return to Lyon, which I hope we do.

We then wandered further down the street and came to a square where there were a lot of touristy restaurants, not really what we were looking for, so we kept going, past a church where a wedding had just taken place, and soon came to a narrow cobbled street called Rue de la Fronde and this wine bar, called La Coulée Douce. The place seemed to be completely empty and had a couple of tables outside in the shade so we grabbed one and proceeded to have a wonderful lunch consisting of a glass of white, a glass of a juicy Fleurie, some saucisson, some Tomme, and a tomato salad. It was exactly what we had been looking for.

Paul Bocuse, 22nd May

I think the key thing to bear in mind when visiting L'Auberge du Pont de Collonges is that the last time anything new happened here was in 1975. It's a complete timewarp, and some things that were perhaps acceptable back then still go on today, even though forty years later they might cause one to raise an eyebrow. For example, the taxi door was opened for me by a man dressed in traditional bellboy costume, who seemed to be of North African origin. There were at least two of these bellboy chaps, which I knew about already from perusing the interwebs, but in this day and age it does cause one to wince a little, especially as all the other staff seemed to be white.

However, soon our minds were on other things. Going through the little arch, this is the sight that greets you. Once inside, we were welcomed by about a hundred maitre d's and waiters ("Bon soir, madame" etc.etc.) and shown through a dining room and up a staircase to the first floor. The room we were in contained six well-spaced tables, a mixture of couples and foursomes. It was quite cosy, with paintings of the restaurant on the wall. Our table wasn't close to any of the others, so we didn't spend the evening listening to other people's conversation, and we had plenty of room. Also, we were facing each other, which I found more comfortable than the bus-stop seating arrangement at Taillevent.

On this occasion, we were having the Menu Classique which is the one for cheapskates, at a mere 160 euros. Almost everyone else seemed to be having the Menu Grande Tradition, which we had when we went back on the Sunday night, and which I'll write about in another post. Last year, when we went to Taillevent, I didn't take photos, but at Paul Bocuse everyone was merrily snapping away so it seemed acceptable.

First up was this very pretty amuse-gueule which consisted of a fishy thing, a sort of guacamole, and a gazpacho or possibly cream of tomato soup. They were all wonderful in their own way, like a Platonic ideal of each.

To drink, we started with this Pommery Cuvee Louise 2002 which provided good age and richness as a foil for what came next. We were impressed at how youthful it seemed, suggesting that the cellars here are very good. One of the main purposes of the trip had been to view the wine list, which isn't on the website, to see what goodies were on offer. It turned out to be substantial but we didn't find any undiscovered bargains lurking and there was no exciting bin end list. G thought that since it's such a big restaurant, and open twice a day every day of the year, they have to offer wine which they can get in quantity, although we speculated that maybe if you go often enough, you get to see the special secret list.

For our starter, vegetarians look away now - we both had a duck terrine with foie gras. This was served with a slice of sourdough and a slice of brioche. The sourdough worked especially well with the terrine, and we guzzled away happily.

With our main course, G ordered a half bottle of Puligny-Montrachet 2008 from Domaine Leflaive. We had a few words with the sommelier about Madame Leflaive who died a few weeks ago. She was a visionary wine-maker and I have particularly fond memories of her Bourgogne Blanc 2002. The Puligny was delicious, as good as you'd expect, and went very well with our next course.

Which was one G had been talking about for months beforehand, the loup en croûte feuilletée, sauce Choron. Sea bass in pastry, in other words. This came as a giant pastry fish and was then dished up. It all happened so fast, and I was too shy to stand up and get a good view, so I missed the chance to take a picture of the whole fish. However, you can see the scales and little fin that I ended up with! This was really excellent - the fish, which G noted with pleasure was properly cooked - none of this half-raw stuff here - the amazing buttery pastry, and the sauce, which is like a bearnaise with extra tomato. The only problem with it was that I for one ate too much which impeded progress later, but it was too delicious not to.

With our cheese, we had this half of Chateau de la Gardine Chateauneuf-du-Pape, in the spirit of trying to drink at least one local wine. As Chateauneuf goes, this was a good one, but I confess that the southern Rhone isn't my favourite, and I think G maybe liked it more than I did. It was a decent choice under the circumstances.

The cheese trolley arrived, but no Epoisses was in evidence - dommage! Saint-Marcellin is all the rage in Lyon, so I had some of that, some Comte, some Roquefort and something which looked the closest thing to Epoisses which we were told was "winemaker's cheese" whatever that is. It was enjoyably pungent.

A tray of petits fours appeared, but we were too full to make much of a go of them, as we were trying to save space for pudding. We'd heard that there was basically an unlimited pudding selection. I'm sure this is true, if you have the space and the inclination by this stage of the evening. I only managed two.

I'd thought this was summer fruits in jelly, but they turned out to be in Beaujolais instead, and I suspect that a hefty dose of sugar had been added. They were very good and something one might be able to make at home, if one had access to fruit of this quality.

 

Also, this creme brulee which was excellent.

Proceedings were interrupted by the sound of a hurdy-gurdy coming from the next room playing Happy Birthday to a lucky recipient. Again, I was glad I'd done my homework, so this was not entirely unexpected, but it was rather hilarious and charming.

To round off, we had coffee and a glass of Calvados, served in a generous portion. Indeed, this is not one of those places where, to quote my father, you need to stop off for a bag of chips on the way home. At the very least, the bread roll offered at the start should certainly be avoided, a lesson we implemented when we went back on Sunday.

We spent a few minutes outside looking at the tableaux of chefs through the ages, before getting a taxi back to our hotel. It had been quite an experience, and I was looking forward to going back!