I had the most incredible ‘fancy’ lunch in Lyon at La Mere Brazier with Didi and Paula the other week, celebrating all three of our birthdays. I am talking super fancy. There’s a slight chance that I may have been under-dressed in my chinos and Birkenstocks, vs the Channel and Birkin bags of the fellow diners. Perhaps.
Our table was reserved for noon, early for lunch in France, so at first we were pretty much the only folks in the place….well us and an entire brigade of wait staff. It was a kind of quiet and reserved place, and we were not. Les Trois Canadiennes – we never are.
I nearly had a heart attack when I opened the menu. The appetizers were 30 euros – some main dishes 90. Ninety. Euros. At lunch! I reached for some water (wondering how much each sip was setting me back), and beads of sweat started dripping down my back. I then noticed a small ‘carte’ on the table. 40 Euros for a two (remember this number) course lunch. Phew. That had our names written all over it, that or dashing out the door. My kids may be able to go to college after all. We placed our orders and chose some wine – a nice Cotes du Rhone, feeling slightly smug that we would not need to sleep on the street that night.
We were brought tiny warm chorizo soufflés with a smoked espelette pepper dipping sauce. Next came a creamy cauliflower puree, with a miniature ‘napolean’ of foie gras and pickled sour cherries. Freshly baked mini baguettes were served with two house-made butters – one demi fleur de sel and one with smoked salt.
Our first course, which actually was our third course (if you’re keeping track), was a thing of beauty to behold. Porcini mushrooms, perfectly poached egg, foie gras foam and truffle garnish. Ethereal. We were kindly offered more fresh bread, and I negligently declined. Our server was surprised at my refusal. He asked me if I was sure. Certain.
I had momentarily forgotten that even in a fancy pants resto the French will wipe their plates clean with a piece of bread. Turned out, I should have taken the bread, as I had to borrow a piece from one of the Canadiennes and got caught by the waiter. He smiled gave me a sort of “I told you so look”. It was embarrassing. But there was no way I could leave even a microscopic droplet of foie gras foam in the bowl. Would you? Right – didn’t think so.
Then there was a slight issue.
Didi noticed ‘bebette’ in her wine. The tiny fly was alive and doing the back stroke in her Cotes du Rhone. We all looked at it in horror, and then Didi did the unthinkable in a three star Michelin restaurant. She rolled up her sleeve, fished around in her goblet, plucked out the fly and flicked it onto the lily white tablecloth. Immediately the brigade of waiters showed up, muttering in French about unacceptable behaviour, and escorted her to the scullery for a ten minute time out. Paula and I tsk tsk’ed her and continued eating.
OK…that didn’t happen. But there was a ‘bebette’ in Didi’s wine, and it did seem to be doing the backstroke, and we seriously feared what would happen if she fished it out. After much debate, we flagged down one of the brigade and alerted him to the fly. He returned back to the waiter huddle in the corner, and much debate ensued. It was like the scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail – you know – when the French are deciding what to do with the Trojan rabbit.
“Mais….que’est que c’est?”
“What do we do?”
“A FLY???”
The voice of reason spoke up –
“Call the sommelier!”
“Donc – voila!”
“Bien sure!”
“Le sommelier!”
We presented her with the FULL goblet of wine and its swimmer.
She looked at us sternly. We smiled. She did not. I think it might be against sommelier rules.
The glass was whisked away and replaced with a fresh sparkly fly-less one. A completely empty glass. No bebette. No wine where there once was.
Empty.
Then the sommelier graciously re-filled her glass from the bottle on the table.
Huh.
Maybe Didi should have flicked it out. We just lost a whole glass of wine. Paula was calculating in her head how many Euros worth of wine had just been given to the dishwasher thrown down the drain.
We were soon distracted from mourning our lost glass of wine by the arrival of our second (fourth course). Mine was maigre, (a variety of bass from the Mediterranean) but it looked more like a Monet painting. I am serious. Check it out. And it was delicious. I also got more bread. Who’s kidding who.
It was then that we did NOT order dessert. I repeat. We refused dessert. We were full. That and…they cost 20 Euros. OK…we maybe we weren’t so full…
To our surprise and delight, we were brought a fifth course consisting of a tiny bowl of impeccably fresh strawberry ice garnished with a single perfect raspberry and a single perfect fraise de bois……closely followed by a plate of mignardises…..treats….salted caramel truffles, raspberry and quince fruit pastes, crepe cake with marshmallow, and a tart lemon mini-macaron. This non-dessert thing is a pretty good thing. In Canada when you don’t order dessert you’re lucky if you get a nasty old grandma mint with the bill.
Just as we were wishing we had worn track pants, up pulled the candy butler – a grown-up candy store on wheels so to speak, salted caramels, honey-pistachio nougat and a duo of marshmallows – lemon and mint – cut to order. I gotta get me some of those fancy silver marshmallow scissors all the high end French restaurants have.
We were firmly and officially on a gastronomic high. The finest lunch I may have ever, or will ever have. Now we were giddily laughing over the initial shock of the 90 euro main courses, the missed bread, and the bebette in the glass.
Until course number 8. Yep. 8. Are you ready for this? ‘Cause we were not.
Warm from the oven honey madeleines with fromage frais ice cream. Until the very moment when we were presented with this dish I had never been a madeleine fan. I never understood them. The madeleine had always eluded me. Then again, I had never had one warm, with honey, and a little almond paste – crispy on the outside, just barely cooked and moist on the inside – served with creamy, yet sharp fromage frais ice cream.
As we left, beaming with satisfaction, chef Mathieu Viannay (a 2004 MOF) stepped out of the open kitchen to personally ask us how we enjoyed our dejeuner – a gesture not common among the cooking elite. A lunch to remember – full of surprises and exquisitely prepared tastes. And the 8 courses vs the 2 we ordered? I think this is just how they roll at La Mere Brazier – with attention to detail and a desire to delight. http://www.lamerebrazier.fr/
