What's for dinner?

Welp, here we are in the first week of the new year and since everyone’s dealing with the pulled muscles of their cross-fit workout and drinking detoxifying juices, I’ll just share some meals from my trip to France last November.

‘Kay?

It’ll take me a few days, so I’ll just start with Lyon, which is purportedly the gastronomic hub of France. I truly dunno about that, but I liked it fine.

Before I embark on the roundup, let me just say that it’s interesting to me how hospitality establishments treat me as a solo female diner. It’s been my observation since my first trip to Ireland in the 90s that it’s very rare that I’ll see another woman eating alone in upscale restaurants. You’ll find men alone, and they don’t seem to get the crap tables or be ghosted by the waitstaff like you’re somehow lowering their property values by walking into the place. This is one of the reasons I prefer to let my hotel make my dining reservations, because I sort of feel like a local joint is not going to want someone coming back to the hotel and dissing them.

(As an aside, I learned a long, long time ago from my older sister how to not feel uncomfortable at dinner by myself. She did it when she and our mom went to Hawaii just before Mom died; Mom wasn’t up to meals, so Penny went by herself, took a book and just enjoyed herself. She’s my role model.)

Interestingly, to me, I found that the very few times I encountered “Oh, une personne…?” were at your basic legend-in-their-own-mind places, one in Lyon and two in Avignon. Mostly their food was fine, but as someone who’s worked in Hollywood, I’ve already achieved my lifetime quota of attitude and I do not find it charming.

I get it that a single diner does not spend as much as two—even though I ordered what appealed to me and my meals averaged maybe $60-70 overall. So I appreciated the places that gave me the attention they did to everyone. And I tried to be on the early side so I didn’t take up a table that they could monetize better. Although I think I also averaged at least 90 minutes per dinner, because France and great food.

For the record, every meal was accompanied by appropriate wine, and my first impression of actual côtes du Rhône in their natural habitat was that I prefer Oregon Pinot Noir, although I did have better red wine as the trip went on.

Also, every meal ended with a déca—decaf espresso.

Anyhow—Lyon:

I confess that my first night there, I just slunk over to the pizza place next door to my hotel—by dinner time that day I’d been traveling for about 20 hours, had had nothing to eat since my Air France breakfast and just wanted to have a bite before I let my circadian rhythm catch a break. My prosciutto pizza was serviceable:

But what I found fascinating was the at-table use of mobile devices by pretty much everyone in the place, young and old. I mean—France, what the hell? At dinner?

The next night, I went to le Layon, on Rue Mercier, which is the epicenter of cuisine lyonnaise. Le Layon is a tiny place and it was pretty much jammed to the gills. I sat between a family of four and two German women who were establishing lebensraum by parking their handbags on the table-for-two next to their own, thus distancing me somewhat.

Pro tip: if you chose a table on a restaurant’s terrasse, you’re likely to be engulfed in smoke. But go inside and you’re okay, because the EU, God bless ‘em, has banned smoking inside buildings.

After a Kir Royale, I started out with escargots, which were fine, but not garlicky:

Then roasted pigeon:

And finished it off with baba au rhum:

My next night was at a brasserie called Bouillon Baratte, which was cavernous in comparison with le Layon. I mean, look at the size of just part of their bar (with hooks for handbags!):

Funny story: I actually walked into a different restaurant thinking it was Bouillon Baratte, but they wouldn’t open for 10 minutes. Only when I got back outside did I realize I’d gone to the wrong place. Believe me, I was glad I got to the right one.

My Kir Royale was made with pêche, which was new to me, and I enjoyed it. 

I started out with the salade lyonnaise which features egg and bacon:

And then moved on to andouillete beaujolaise, which was just delish:

Dessert was vacherin fruits rouges et praline rose, which was a form of Pavlova:

My last dinner in Lyon was at Brasserie le Nord, part of the gastronomic empire of Paul Bocuse. First white-linen experience; most places seem to have moved on to no tablecloths and napkins that are some form of puffy one-use material.

While the operation was well-oiled, my particular server was decidedly disinterested in me—first time I encountered it on this trip. She seemed surprised that I wanted an apéritif (their house version, which was nice) and I had to flag other servers down throughout my meal to get things taken care of. She just couldn’t seem to be arsed.

Apéritif maison:

My starter was terrine:

The entrée was merlu (hake); the fish was lovely, the rice was a little strange, but I think it's because I almost always have basmati rice at home:

And dessert three citrus sorbets:

Enjoy your steamed veggie plate and water with a squeeze of lemon.