Lyon, the gastronomic capital of France or, as I like to say, France’s culinary ground zero is synonymous with excellent food and outstanding chefs. One chef in particular has consistently stood out from the crowd. That person is none other than super-star Chef Paul Bocuse. To be sure, I’d heard plenty about this culinary God and his reputation as being, hands-down, a master of French cooking and also for the high quality of his restaurants in Lyon and his innovative approaches to cuisine. Chef Bocuse is best known for having brought to the forefront the concept of nouvelle cuisine, which is less opulent and calorific than the traditional cuisine classique, and stresses the importance of fresh ingredients of the highest quality. I was in search of elegance both in presentation and in appreciation. In Chef Bocuse’s brasserie Le Nord, I found that and oh so much more.
Finally it was time for the poultry of kings to arrive, the famous Bresse chicken in cream sauce smothered in sauce, rice and mushrooms. For a moment I panicked. I had made the right choice maybe the scallops were the right choice in the first place. Steady as she goes. The waiter expertly presented my dish. It looked wonderful and I will admit, for the record, that it not only looked better than mine but tasted much better. Clearly I have work to do. There it was in its entire splendor. The Bresse chicken is not like any chicken I have ever eaten. These birds are in a class all of their own and are carefully raised to exacting (and delicious) standards. That’s quite evident. The sauce was both creamy and velvety at the same time. Just when I worried about not having enough sauce to make it through, the waiter appeared and placed a cooking pan with the sauce on a little raised trivet. I may not have been in Heaven but I was very close to being there. I spooned more sauce making sure that every grain of rice was soaked to perfection. Then I spooned some more. I did not want this to end, never ever. I asked our waiter if I could I have a doggy bag for the sauce. I received an indulgent smile in response.
Thankfully, I was able to muster sufficient strength to hold the desert menu. I chose an old faithful that took me back to my early days in Paris as a youngster. After church on Sunday we would stop at the bakery in Neuilly and one of my parents accompanied by one of the boys, never all three, they knew better. With any luck, when the contents of that box were revealed at the dinner table, there would be a Baba au Rum which is a true French desert classic as is the Tarte Tartin. The Baba is a small sponge cake that is wonderfully saturated in rum preferably from Martinique along with a healthy dollop of whipped cream or pastry cream. I don’t remember the rum growing up or maybe that was my parent’s secret ingredient to a quiet Sunday afternoon.