Saturday we took the train down to Lyon to see the city and the fête des lumières, which has nothing to do with Chanukah. The city surpassed its reputation as boring industrial center–we enjoyed the Roman ruins and the basilica on the hill, and we most especially enjoyed our lunch.

Lyon is sometimes called the gastronomic capital of France, so we were keen to try something traditional. The majority of lyonnais specialties are pig parts, such as something called tablier de sapeur (lit., fireman’s apron; breaded, fried stomach) and something we were served as an amuse-bouche called “gratons” (spelling?), which are salty, fried pieces of pork neck. I have this information vicariously from Joe, as you might guess. To me, the gratons looked like curiously over-sized walnut pieces. Other specialties include pork trotters, veal sausage and boudin, blood sausages.

However, vegetarians don’t have to go hungry in Lyon because they make something excellent called a quenelle. Translating this word as “dumpling” raises dumplings to a status they don’t really deserve, but it will have to suffice. A quenelle is made of flour and eggs and milk, and while it looks like a golden-brown lump, when take a bite, it’s lighter than air. They taste a tiny bit like omelettes, because of the eggs, but only a tiny bit. Mine came in a butter and lemon sauce, and it was simple and perfect. They are often served with seafood, such as pike or crayfish.

Joe had a tournedos in tarragon sauce. Both of our meals came with cooked spinach, and Joe also had a gorgeous potato gratin. The cheese course had two more regional specialties: St. Marcellin, a runny, slightly tangy cheese, and cervelle de canut (lit., silkweaver’s brain; fromage blanc with chives). Fromage blanc is similar to sour cream. Why the people of Lyon gave it such a gross name is a mystery, considering that they gave something grosser–pig stomach–a much more innocuous name.

After lunch we walked through the Cathedral St. Jean and then up the hill to the Roman ruins and the Basilique de Notre Dame de Fourvière. The basilica was packed–you might even say chock-a-block–with people, mostly old, for a service thanking the Virgin for protecting Lyon from the black plague. And other things, I suppose, but they did hand out flyers mentioning the plague. I didn’t listen to any of the service because the inside of the basilica was too distracting.

When night fell, or at least darkness, we started our tour of the light installations. I have to say, in general the fête des lumières was a disappointment. You would never know from the way the crowd was pushing–and this was a serious crowd, a Delhi-train-station, lift-up-your-feet-and-be-carried-along kind of crowd–but the installations were all pretty boring. One in particular, which purported to be a giant version of Newton’s pendulum, actually enraged Joe. None of the rest really bear describing, although I guess this Leroy-in-a-snowglobe photo will give you an idea:

Since Lyon was flooded with people, no restaurant anywhere near the center had any seats available. We waited outside a great-looking Syrian restaurant for twenty minutes in the cold rain, only to be to told there were no unreserved tables. Sad, sad. So we walked out to a less interesting neighborhood, closer to the Part-Dieu train station, to find dinner. As you might guess, the food was also less interesting, but at least it was cheap. Then we went home.

Posted in France, Joe, Lyon, food, photos, travel by rachel