Food in Provence (and elsewhere)

We wake to a rather wet place Bellecour with umbrella toting locals emerging from the Metro. So I’m pleased not to be changing into cycling gear after breakfast. Not surprisingly, the breakfast spread is rather good. We are surprised by the apparent lack of fruit juice but are informed that this will be brought to the table for us. J. is also surprised when, just as she is about to sit down, a member of some badge wearing group says “excuse me” and tries to join me before realising I am not her husband. The viennoiseries are all mini and the croissant a little too crispy for my liking, but the pain aux raisins is good.

As it’s Monday pretty much everything is closed, including the cathedral. The exception is Notre Dame de Fourviere which has the slight drawback of being up a steep hill. J. is convinced I need to use some other muscles, though, so we set out—with an umbrella even if the rain seems to have eased off. Before we go, though, I get through to Le Garet and book a table for tonight. I’m warned to be there no more than 10 minutes late; Felicity was given a 15 minute grace period which seems more normal.

The decision to take the umbrella is vindicated as we reach the bottom of the Montée des Chazeaux but I’m nevertheless pretty damp by the time I’ve climbed the 250 steps and then meandered further uphill to the Basilica. Which is much busier than we imagined—perhaps because everywhere else is closed but perhaps also because this is the anniversary of the consecration. I have to admit that it was worth making the effort: the mosaics in the upper church are impressive even if J. prefers the austerity of the lower church dedicated to Joseph. The view from the Basilica over Lyon is also pretty impressive despite the ongoing drizzle.

We head back down looking forward to a choice of lunch options in the Food Traboule but we don’t manage to find it even if their web site suggests it’s just opposite the statue on the corner of the rue de Boeuf. We settle for entrée sized salads at a place on place neuve Saint-Jean that is happy to cater for people who are planning to eat more copiously in the evening.

We wend our way slowly along the Michelin Guide walk around the old town and then equally slowly back to the hotel via an Opinel shop (interesting, but we have all the knives I need). I have a semi-siesta to rest my muscles and catch up on crosswords. Then it’s on to Le Garet…

… via an aperitif in a nearby bar I found on Google Maps and with which J. is less than impressed. J. is also less than impressed initially with Le Garet. Firstly, I’m sitting in Jean Moulin’s seat which means she’s in a draft (something rectified relatively quickly by a concerned proprietorial looking person) and secondly because she has neither read One More Croissant for the Road nor studied the (admittedly limited) online menu information. There are few things that she considers acceptable but settles eventually for the herring and potato starter and the evening’s offering of gratin d’écrevisses for a main course. I’m meanwhile delighted to find oeufs en meurette is on offer as an additional starter and go for the cervelles meunieres as a main course. Waiting for the starter, I try, but fail, to take a shadowless picture of the napkin which we realise later comes with a buttonhole! Not something either of us could have made use of this evening.

The oeufs en meurette are as delicious as I’d hoped. J. considers the yolks a little too runny but appreciates the sauce.

The main courses are equally good, although copious. I manage a demi St Marcellin but neither of us can cope with dessert, however delicious the baked fig option sounds.

Neither J. nor I spot Felicity’s multiplicity of inappropriately clad joueses au boules but there are certainly some risqué cartoons in the toilets. Overall, I’m glad to have followed in Felicity’s footsteps but perhaps one of the equally centenarian Michelin suggestions would have been more to J.’s taste.