bleudauvergne

We just ate at Gourmet de Seze, I thought it was good. But then again we don't eat out much. You might check out the France forum, headed up by Bux, and do a search on Lyon. That's for the top restaurants. I have one bouchon that I absolutely love and aside from the meal we had at G de S, This is the only place I have ever truly felt was worth the money, if you are talking about the cooking. But I think I'm going to go there later this week. And tell you. Because we haven't been there for a long time and I don't want to give you a bum steer.

That lot would last me about 10 minutes. Just eat it! bleu, this really is torture! (And don't trust those French spell-checks farther than you can throw them... ) No really, it's super pungent and I can't eat more than a piece at a time. And believe me. I am a glutton. edited to add: Aperetif : We are eating now and I will post dinner later.

No: Now please, children... pay attention! EDIT to add: Hey, balex, I just looked at your chervil link and immediately bookmarked the page. Thank you for an enormously useful reference! I blame the spell check - I typed in cerfeuille and it changes it to Chevrefeuille! Yes chevril, balex, thank you! Sorry guys, I do not plan to make honeysuckle wine this week... But I do need some advice and pointers about what to do with this truckload of candied ginger I have taking up space in my cupboard? Please send ideas if you have any. Should I put it in wine?

You know what? I went to a party not long ago, where the people giving the party rented an entire ancient monestary. It was really really cheap. And had a courtyard, perfect for roasting lambs on spits. And an enormous actual kitchen. For 50 people it cost 15 euros a person. Can you believe that? It is absolutely true. As for extra bedrooms in my house, we have a couch. If anyone wants to set me up with a luctrative writing contract, I'd be happy to quit my day job, write a book, and buy the apartment next door. Whoever does that will have a permanent bedroom with a fireplace and their name carved in the door frame. I would set the fire each night, run a warm bath to have ready at precisely one hour before dinner time, and place a fresh bouquet of flowers on the mantle each day. And I would adopt you. Any takers?

What's that? They look like purple ginger root to me... Soba The Reason.

Origine - Bayou. I however do not have an ice cream machine (we chose the pasta press and now we have to watch our budget) and could never do your wonderful ice cream justice anyway.

Oh Bro-oks! Look over here!

Highlights of my experience at the market this morning: After leaving the bakery, I walked down the quai to the market. I passed the booksellers who open their stands by the side of the river and spied two bright red 1997 Michelin guides blaring out from the stacks of books that one book seller had piled in the lock box, he was just setting up. I wondered if that would still be useful. Guess not. Restaurants change, bloom and fade, their life span is on average not so long, it seems. If someone had a good meal 5 years ago at a restaurant, there’s no guarantee that it’s still going to be good now. Association with any number of Michelin stars could possibly be a curse, in my opinion. It’s certainly a challenge that forces a test on the fortitude of everything a chef has created, for a restaurant. I get this impression from what I've been reading about people being dissapointed lately. Rain rain go away!! I reached the market and decided to close my umbrella, although it was still drizzling. It’s a thing of mine. I have seen couples with enormous wide load child transport vehicles that they conveniently use to load their purchases on, completely blocking all pedestrian movement at this market. Stampedes are certainly possible on the Quai St. Antoine, things must keep circulating, or everything, including the commerce, stops. We’ve always said – When WE have a baby… Second worse are umbrella promenaders. The people who stroll through the crowded market poking every other person’s eye out with an their umbrella. What’s up with that? Donc, close umbrella, unless it’s pouring. The first place I went was my fish monger, looking for poulpe. We eat fish around once a week, sometimes two. I had some really lovely poulpe (octopus) a couple of weeks ago, which I cooked according to Joel Robuchon’s cooking show’s recipe, a la greque and served with aperetif. Simmered with a packet of coriander seeds. I wanted to try it again. Unfortunately, they only had calamari. So I bought 6 small ones. That should make a nice appetizer or supper, stuffed some time this week. I can throw them in the freezer until I’m ready to use them. I asked him what I might cook whole. I’m in the mood to stuff a fish. He suggested two fish we have eaten in the past two weeks, and I wanted something different. I was torn between the lake trout from the alps and the line fished sea bass. The trout are easy whole cookers. I finally decided on the sea bass. It’s rare to find it line fished at a price lower than 25 Euros a kilo. I didn’t want it filleted, but he removed the scales and gutted it for me. I want to see about stuffing it. I can fillet it at home, if I do decide not to cook it whole, after all. The chevre lady who brings the pickings from her garden had toupinambour. I took a picture, because it reminded me of the time I was so happy to buy it that one time. Never ever again. But I do still think they’re pretty. I asked her if she had any chickory. This is something that only comes really fresh from people’s gardens. Only recently I have been thinking hard about the winter salads, after reading the salad class. Not long ago, we had a bunch of chickory, and I wilted it with garlic to serve with sautéed pork slices. It was SOOOO good. I felt like I was in the middle ages. She said that now at this time I might find some, but it would already be old She said it’s a winter salad and can only be found fresh in winter. There’s always next year… A chef had left his kitchen to pick up apples. The cheese lady where I get my bleu d’auvergne sometimes has Diots de Savoie. I’m thinking of making a vegetable soup. Diots are a very subtly seasoned and mild sausage that harmonize exquisitely with mild soups. She didn’t have any left. Oh well, I can get them elsewhere, or substitute them for my butchers godiva. I did get 6 eggs, a St. Marcellin, and my slice of bleu. Soup. Rutabaga, carrots, potatoes, navets (English name for this vegetable escapes me at the moment), celery root, and my weekly bouquet. Tarragon, Dill, Coriander, Chives, Chèvrefeuille, Parsley. I thought it was beautiful and wished I’d photographed him gathering the bunch together and wrapping it like flowers. Lastly, M. Coche has expanded his gamme of butters, now filling their decorative moulds with butter made in style Maitre ’d, which is butter with parsley, shallots, garlic, and salt. He says it goes well with beef. I’m thinking of the fish. He offered me a draget (sugar coated almond) to celebrate the baptism of his son, who helps him on weekends at the market. He looks to be about 13 years old, a bright, beautiful child. Lunch: Small seasoned aperetif cheeses (with walnuts, and chives). Crudités du Marché with evoo, gros sel, and a slice of lemon. Pain au Champs. Cheese plate. We added a liitle Brebis - Berger de Dombes, and some Beaufort. Wine – 1999 Chateau de Crémat – Bellet (from the region of Nice Alpes Maritime, a wine made with semillon grapes)

Luckily Sissy has never had to be in quarantine. I adopted her as a kitten in Beijing. She spent her childhood there with me, and went back to America with me. No quarantine. But she had to have her shots. When we moved to France, my mom kept her until we found an apartment and sent her Delta pet freight. They mis-marked her bag as passenger accompanied, and she was lost in Paris, rotating around a baggage carousel for hours, and she missed her connection to Lyon. They could not locate her and were not being very helpful, so I finally just decided to hop on the TGV to Charles de Gaulle and get her myself! Thank you for asking.

First Stop - La Boulangerie. My Boulanger's name is M. Phillipe RICHARD, an artisan baker. This means he makes his bread for his own profit, on site. His lovely wife minds the till. Alright my dear, here's your croissant: Their specialty breads are their bread and butter. They sell an excellent baguette, but the other breads are what they sell the most of. Mr. Richard has a Japanese stagiere. Recent discussions about baguette made me think particularly about her. When I was taking French lessons, I had a Japanese friend who was here specifically to do a stage in a boulangerie. I also had another Japanese classmate who was doing graduate research into Proust's references to food. [GRAND GENERALIZATION] Most Japanese people I know are impassionned by all things food related. [/GRAND GENERALIZATION] I asked Mme Richard if the stagiere was here and if I could come back at a less busy time to talk to her. Madame Richard agreed, and called her out front. Do you agree to talk to me tomorrow? There were customers waiting but she agrees to let me ask her a few questions tomorrow! Yes, I agree! If anyone has specific questions to ask, PM me and I'll take them down and be sure to ask her. Next stop was the market - on the Quai St. Antoine. But I'll post about that after LUNCH - we are starving! On the radio right now, Jean-Pierre KOFFE is interviewing people about fish - they are talking about Peche "au petit bateau"! We had this type of fish in the restaurant Thursday! So interesting! And coincedentally, I just bought a fresh line fished Sea Bass. Be back soon. :starving: -Lucy

I notice that Pan is awake, at 6am New York Time. Alright Pan! I've just come home from the market and am going to process the photos I have taken this morning and get lunch started. -Lucy

For knocking about town I carry a dog eared Canon Powershot A30. The main problem with this camera is the extremely annoying delay between the time you click the shutter and the time it actually takes the picture. For that reason, I have taken to taking photos of things that do not move with th is camera, and most of the photos I take of people are of people moving, looking away, or blushing. Sorry about that. I also turn off the flash and use the macro setting most of the time. Thank you for the kind encouragement. I have taken the requests for taking you along in my daily scrounging activities into consideration. I have decided not to change my habits, so what you see is what I normally do. __________on with the blog!______________ Saturday A.M. - coffee The photo is dark because it is early in the morning. In the lower left corner of the photo is Sissy, who comes every morning to tell me that Loic (my husband) has given her the wrong flavor cat food for breakfast. Her favorite is Delices de Volailles en Gelee, but somehow Loic always gives her Lapin avec ses petits pois or Agneau! Oh well, she'll get what she wants when it's dinner time, because I'm the one who gives her dinner. Cat food here comes in a variety box containing several flavors, and the cat has to get a different flavor every meal. This is a far cry from what she used to get before we moved to France. Back in the good old days, she could have her favorite flavor every time. But we're not in Kansas anymore, Sissy. She was hooked on fish flavors for awhile (because she ate salmon back stateside), and they came in the most amazing flavors. But then we heard all that news about lead poisoning, and also observed the fact that Sissy will not touch the salmon flavor, even if she's dying of hunger, so we changed to a new menu. My husband is the coffee master of the house. I cannot move before I've had a few sips in bed. He has really wonderful tastes in coffee, and he is alwasy trying something new. Right now we are enjoying Alpine roast. Have I said he is an angel? This is the coffee we are drinking now: We had been enjoying a rich course ground and felt there was no other way to do it. When we first got this coffee, Loic (my husband) put the coffee through the grinder as usual and the result was shockingly bad. It took some experiemtation, but once he got to grinding it very fine, the taste was just amazingly wonderful. It's a very refined, rich, but not in your face kind of flavor. Perhaps Owen can shed some insight about what makes this coffee different. Me, I awaken, I take the coffee, my day begins. With a big thanks to Loic. Our Super High Tech Coffee Machine: I have to get to the market. It looks like rain. Actually good pictures can be had on rainy days. I also plan to go to an Indian imports shop I've been meaning to check out in vieux Lyon, and also to go to my bookstore and ask about a few orders, plus inquire about balmagowry's magazine.. It would be a shame to have to go to Paris to get it. Time to get moving! Be back soon!

I do! I do! Adopt me! If I come out there right away I can be there in time for l'Aillee, which has had me drooling almost constantly ever since you posted about it! (Also, it's perfect: I have an adopted son who is older than I am; I in turn am older than you are; so by adopting me you will acquire a grandson who is nearly twice your age. How can you resist?) BTW, aren't ground cherries also called tomatillos? I knew someone who used to make jam out of them - very good. We're really hoping to adopt a baby. But if that falls through I'll keep both of you in mind. Just to get things straight, please PM me with the number of books (that would be cookbooks) you own, and include the number of first editions. Thanks. edited to ask also for a list of your cocktail repertoires, because that will factor into my decision.

Tomorrow AM. Break of dawn. You got it. Goodnight!

Those are ground cherries, also known as "cossack pineapples". I love them! Taste like a cross between a tomato and a pineapple. Did you buy them, or just take the photo at the market? I think they taste like a cross between a gooseberry and a lychee. I bought them. And I'm eating them.

Sorry, I forgot to tell you what kind it is. In the center is a munster. 9 oclock is a brin de marquis. 11 oclock: I forgot! But Ill find out tomrorrow. noon to two: Morbier. And the last two, well, they have the labels.

You all posted while I was adding my photos of the day in edit mode! Bacon was what I was at the butcher for! Dude!

When StInGeR infomed me that the flame was passed by PM, I was at the office, and my heart was beating, hard. After several minutes of hyperventilating, I came back to reality. I thought I wan't going to start till Sunday! Time note: I am located at GMT +1. I am in Lyon, France. 6 hours ahead of the eastern seaboard, 9 hours ahead of the west coast. 1 hour ahead of London. 6 hours behind Hk Dave. Sorry if my posts seemed to be times wierdly. I am at home in Lyon, I am not traveling. It is my home. We are at the moment doing our best to save money. Therefore just about all of my meals are prepared at home. I think my blog will carry two predominant themes: sourcing and cooking. Blogging makes you want to take pictures of everything. I wanted to take a picture of people on the metro because they looked tired and hungry. I have no idea what this blog will produce but I hope it entertains some of you. I want to do justice to the people that make things possible for me. So, here we go. My first stop after work was to Marechal Center, in the 1eme, where I live. It's a store that also has a caviste, by the name of Nicolas LANGLET. This guy is recognized in the neighborhood. He knows everything about wine. When I arrived tonight he was excited and had a wine to give me a taste of. My butcher, M. THERMOZ, was kind of mad at me when I arrived because he was in a hurry to close. "You're late!" he said. " have no time to talk, I'm closing this place as soon as possible" he said. He gave me my bacon and said - "a demain!" When I got home, I realized my house is a mess. That's normal. I usually leave projects halfway done wherever they have begun. This is my closet. It's all mine. I have built a small bar in it. It's where I try and corral up my cookbooks. They usually are scattered all over the house, and they all don't fit in my closet. It's a good thing I never put everything away at the same time. (my husband's closet is rather orderly and scientific, and contains lots of technologically advanced equipment. It makes for a good balance.) Dinner tonight: Started witha small glass of Clairette de Die tradition, which we got at last Octobers foire des vignerons independants: We ate like pigs yesterday so we're eating very simply tonight. A little paté, polish dills for me and little corichons for the hubby: Salad, and cheese. I will cook over the weekend. Can anyone tell me: What's this fruit??? It's bedtime here, and I'm off, but tomorrow morning it's the market - quai St. Antoine as usual. Things should be really pretty because Spring is really in full swing here now. -Lucy

I think it would be a fine way to go.

I was an expat in Beijing. I'm at the table in the bar with a couple of friends, and we're talking about how Thanksgiving is coming up. We brainstorm a pot luck. A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, I get calls from my friends, saying they'll be bringing such and such number of people. Pretty soon the number goes from 6 to 10 to 15 to 20. I'd started getting calls from people I didn't know, who knew people that I knew. Great! Add em to the list! My apartment is small. So I decide to ask at the bar, which runs a restaurant which is never occupied, if they can let me use their kitchen, and serve the wine at the meal, in their diningroom. They agree. Everything's going great. I'm talking to the bartender one night, I'm having trouble finding a big turkey. He says no sweat, we'll get one. Day before Thanksgiving I go down to confirm the turkey. Yep, it's there. A big 25 pounder. Frozen solid. I call my mom and ask her what to do. She gives me instructions on rotating water bath, etc. I'm basically panicking. The owner then comes to me very upset. He's sorry, he's sorry. What has he done? He has put an ad in the paper advertising a real American Thanksgiving dinner at his restaurant. What are we going to do? He did come through for me and got me 20 chickens, which we stuffed with cornbread stuffing and roasted in the pizza ovens. His kitchen staff did everything I said. The big mama turkey doesn't go in the oven until just before the guests start to arrive, with pies casseroles, etc. The owner of the restaurant has an observation deck set up for the Chinese people where they can order drinks and watch the meal. There was a chicken and a bottle of wine on each table, and a buffet was set up with the pot luck offerings. People were all very happy. Students, families, tons of American people I never knew existed in Beijing. At the end of the night, after all of the dinner people were gone and everything was cleaned up, a group of stragglers came in and asked if the kitchen was still open. It was the owner of the Indian retaurant by Ri Tan park and 3 friends. I brought them this enormous stuffed turkey which had recently come out of the oven, and they devoured the entire turkey. I could not believe it. It started out as a disaster but got better. I'm sorry about your kitty. I'm glad he lived a long life.

I have to agree about having been dissapointed with Berthillon. It's funny, Margaret, that you mention the "carmel au beurre sel" flavor, as I also discovered this flavor last summer at our favorite ice cream place in Lyon, Nardonne. Anyway, next time I do have ice cream in Paris it will be at Damman's. Thank you for the tip. -Lucy

Sounds heavenly.

I'm so sorry, Gary that your meal wasn't good. If they can't get a steak right, I wonder... I have noted your comments and thank you for giving us the heads up.

Last night upon returning from work, my husband said that as a surprise for me, due to yesterday being an obscure professional milestone for me, he had made a reservation to have dinner out. He would not tell me where we were going, and it was not until after we had gotten on the metro and ridden two stops to the 6ème, gotten off near Chocolatier Bernachon, and taken stroll around the corner onto a residential street one block south of cours Vitton that I realized. I thought he was taking me to another place altogether, I had in mind that maybe he’d be taking me to “Le Splendid”, a bistro across from the old gare de Brotteaux, and that he wanted to take a stroll. But no, we stopped in front of a rather unremarkable looking place, which had the look of a local restaurant with a yellow and orange wallpapered color scheme but simple, clean tables dressed in white linen. It was Gourmet de Sèze. I have heard this restaurant mentioned by friends, who have remarked on the comfortable and informal dining room, and the fabulous menu that changes every 10 days, based on market and season, a living, breathing kitchen. How happy I was to be entering this restaurant! Warm and friendly atmosphere, I was perfectly at ease in my clothes from the office. My husband was wearing one of his newer professor sweaters and matching pants, and he had brushed a little polish on his shoes, a step up from his usual. We were greeted warmly, the guest list was checked, they took our coats, and we were shown to our table. The gastronomic event began as soon as we sat down and ordered the aperitif from the sommelier who suggested 3 wines, all white. Such a relief to be here at the end of the day and enjoy a cool glass of Macon with my husband, who ordered the Muscat. With the wine, he brought out a plate of nibbles with two of each: small toasts with slices of a mini terrine de foie gras, smooth and buttery, each with a dusting of spices, just a touch of fleur de sel, and minced fine chives. Toasts graced with a thin slice of an ashed bouche de chevre, drizzled with fruity olive oil and fresh leaves of thyme. Toasts with a subtle caviar d’aubergine backdrop upon which were arranged minced green and red bell pepper, and a hint of something spicy. A small porcelain pot containing cubes of comté and florets of cauliflower speared on toothpicks, to dip in a mayonnaise sauce seasoned with fresh fines herbes. Another pot of the same shape and size with still warm from the oven whole grain artisan matchstick crackers, to dip in a classic lyonnaise cervelle de canuts, which is a fromage blanc with a mixture of herbs, garlic, and shallots. I felt that there was a play on scale going on here, with the carefully prepared pots of dipping sauces cradling intimately in our fingers, the toasts, small perfect mouthfuls that we nibbled slowly to appreciate their varied details, almost like miniature paintings, in contrast with the bountiful wine that pulled us up, taking us back and forth from landscape to portrait, each experience with similar intensity. It was at that moment that we fell into a state of complicity with and complete trust of the sommelier. The menu découvert for €40, with the €15 supplemental option “Marions-Les”, a different wine for each course chosen by the sommelier, was the natural choice for the both of us. The meal began, first with presentation and serving of with the next wine, a 2003 Coteaux Varois, Domaine de Loou. Having spent my last three summers sipping on wines from the Var, I was at once struck by the way this wine was not even close to those that we find on the table on the terrace at my in-laws, nor was it pink. It was a white wine, special, elegant and proud like the wines from the Var I know, but more refined, mature, developed. Questionned about the grapes that went into this wine, the sommelier responded that it was a 70/30 mix of Semillon and Rollie (sp?). The amuse bouche to accompany it was a mound of braised market vegetables, fresh green peas, diced haricots verts, carrots, which bloomed on the palate, having been cradled a langoustine gelée, with one morsel of chilled langoustine tail on top of the mound. It was served in a small glass bowl with a spoon. A silent wave of some obscure spice washed over me with every bite, I immediately got the impression that the dish was steeped with a subtle asian influence, and could not place it. Just at the last spoonful, an image came to mind, which had to have been it – a cheesecloth sack filled with Sichuan peppercorns and sewn shut, left to infuse in the cooling bouillon des langoutines that eventually made the gelée. I could be completely wrong. Sometimes these images come to me, though. I am going to try it, anyway. At some point during the amuse bouche, the bread was served, which I completely ignored until I came back to the surface from my little glass bowl. My husband pointed out that all of their breads are made on site. The small pain au levain loaves contained a mixture of flours, with a hint of rye and texture coming from farine integral. Our wine glasses were topped off and we were presented with the appetizer, 5 generous langoustine raviolis, served on a bed of wilted spinach and cream, with a dollop of rustic mashed potatoes and a spoon of caviar in the center. This was napped with a reduced crustacean sauce. The potatoes had a great texture and were the perfect backdrop to the caviar, and the meat in the raviolis was cooked to perfection. The sommelier brought out an exquisite 2001 Domain de Tours vin de pays de Vaucluse and poured us each a generous glass. The nose on this wine was spectacular. Flowers bloomed just before we fell into a vast open space and we were buoyantly caught in a lingering net which evolved slowly, starting in a reverie of caramel de beurre salé that eventually ended in emotions I hadn’t felt in ages, a certain adolescent shame, even. (really.) There was absolutely no need whatsoever to fret about the ability for the main dish to stand up to the personality of this wine. This was described as a “Lotte de Petit Pecheur” by the waiter, who explained that it had been fished that day and delivered straight to the restaurant. Lotte by nature is a fish that has the texture and flavor to stand up to strong seasoning and long cooking times, and it is normally braised for long periods. A classic dish features chunks of this fish wrapped in bacon and stewed for ½ hour or more and served in a thick ragout. What we were served last night was completely new, a wonderfully harmonious dish, incorporating the tradition of braised vegetables strongly recalling the terroir tradition that a ragout represents, but much more refined, for a complete absence of “stew” in any sense of the word. Slices of the lotte tail, poached in a complex boullion which must have featured among other things an subtle infusion with coriander seeds, the poached fish composed around the plate under a meltingly delicious fricassee of braised artichoke hearts, white and green asparagus, fennel, celery, and young carrots, which was topped with a little onion and anchovy tart the size of an old silver dollar. The dish was surrounded with a drizzle of a reduction with incorporated mustard à l’ancienne (with the grains). It was clear to me that each of the vegetables had been braised separately and they sang in perfect harmony. The lotte was tender, flavourful, and not overly seasoned – the fresh flavor of the fish was a pure delight. At this point I began to think about value, and what we’d been discussing here on eGullet with regards to what we consider a valuable experience in a meal. I began playing with numbers in my head about what this was eventually going to cost us. No prices were on the menu for the aperitifs, nor the bottle of water we ordered to go with the meal, nor the coffee that we would eventually order. The number 160 sprang to mind, I guess it was an estimate of what I would be happy to pay over the €110 already committed to the rest of the meal would progess in a similar fashion, with no bad suprises. My thought was, this menu is so completely inexpensive for what we are getting right now, I would still pay lots more and be happy. Again more of that great wine for my husband, (the sommelier never missed a beat and asked if we wanted more each time the glass was empty) to accompany the cheese plate, which featured a chevre frais drizzled with olive oil, St. Marcellin, Selles sur Cher, Picodin, and a meltingly delicious brebis des Dombes. The cheese plate also featured in a major award winning supporting role – a hot raisin nut levain roll straight from the oven. I had trouble making it last to the end of the cheeses because I found myself putting an itty bitty bit of cheese on and taking a huge bite of the roll. I almost asked for another roll, they were so incredibly delicious, but I am glad I did not. Because - then the desserts came, along with TWO other wines, a Muscat de Rivesaltes, from les pyranées orientale, which was not the same Muscat that my husband had enjoyed during the aperitif, but still on the dry side which married well with the first three desserts, and a dark as port cordial glass of 1998 Banyuls – to go with the last chocolate dessert, which was a house specialty and called for it’s own wine. 4 separate plates were placed before us, which we were instructed to eat in the following order: Sablée with lemon cream, fresh fruit salad with mint sauce, a white chocolate ring filled with chantilly and topped with vanilla ice cream, and last but not least, this wonderful incredible thing they called a “chocolat mousse à la chickory”. I did not taste the chickory in it, and it resembled a cake that you dig into, and a slick rich ooze of chocolate comes running out onto your plate. Better than pocket coffee. Speaking of coffee, at that point I was tempted to forgo it because I was afraid I was just going to die from overindulgence. But we ordered it anyway. So the coffee came, with FOUR other little things to have with it, which I was unable to finish – a warm Madeline, the size of the end of my thumb, which I was able to take a nibble of, a little pot of crème au chocolate, high on cocoa content and very creamy, which I took only one small bite of, a mini crème brulée, which I also tasted and passed to my husband, and a small artisan made pyramid shaped chocolate filled with orange marmalade which I was able to eat. You could skip dessert and still be completely satisfied. When it was time for us to move, the waiter instantly arrived and the transaction was painless – a grand total of 135,50. We were then helped with our coats, and as we reached the door, there stood the chef, M. Mariller, at the door, to ask us how the meal was. I took his hand in both of mine and replied: “Parfait”. Sigh. edited to add : Le Gourmet de Sèze, 129, rue de Sèze, 69006 Lyon. Tél. : 04 78 24 23 42. (reserve at least one week in advance)

Sounds like a fabulous lunch. Thank you so much for telling the tale.