Nicolas Le Bec

*This is the final of a four-part series on my trip to Lyon.

I’ve saved the best for last. The piece de resistance. Oddly enough, it was the first thing I did in Lyon. It was the best thing I did in Lyon.

Do you remember I told you that Lyon has a whole host of Michelin stared restaurants? Do you remember I told you that Lyon is considered by many as the gastronomical capital of France? Do you remember I told you that? Well, it does and it is.

So, my experience in Lyon would not be complete without a trip to a fine French restaurant. I looked online for a good one.

Sadly, most of the starred restaurants are outrageously expensive. They are outrageously delicious, too. But outrageously expensive, nonetheless. And let me say right now that having a Michelin star or two or three isn’t the be all, end all of a restaurant. But it doesn’t hurt either.

Wouldn’t you know that I found a two-star restaurant that serves a three-course lunch menu for a not-very-outrageous price? Wouldn’t you know I fanatically researched the restaurant like I was writing a dissertation? Wouldn’t you know that I found a friend who wanted to go with me? Wouldn’t you know that I made a reservation for two for Friday afternoon? Wouldn’t you know that’s all I talked about for a week? Wouldn’t you know that I dreamed of the restaurant the night before?

So I hopped on the train Friday morning, and my dining partner... didn’t. She missed the train. Well, good. Now I’m going to have to explain to this fine dining restaurant what happened in French. And they are probably going to be mad. To make matters worse, I wasn’t as dressed as I probably should have been. I checked before hand with the restaurant, and they said there was no dress code. I wore my nicest jeans, a button down shirt, and a tie. I felt underdressed.

When I got off the train, I was nervous. Really nervous. I walked to the restaurant. Excited. Nervous. My first fine dining restaurant. My first Michelin starred restaurant. My first Michelin TWO starred restaurant. Here we go.

nicolas le bec

I explained my situation to the woman who opened the door for me. She said it was not a problem. Not a problem at all. She took my coat and scarf. Another man showed me to my table.

The restaurant.

It was beautiful. A modern space with a traditional feel. I felt comfortable here. Nervousness gone. My table was the second one in on the right.

My place setting.

That is salt, pepper, and butter on the left. A rose in water on the right.

The sommelier (this restaurant has a sommelier) came around with a cart and asked me if I wanted to start with some wine. He explained two different types of wine and a type of champagne in some beautiful French (that I didn’t understand a word of). I told him I would likely get the lunch menu with the wine pairing and he went on his way.

Then a woman came and presented me with the menu. And now I present it to you.

I chose Le Foie Gras de Canard Rôti, Le Quasi de Veau Fermier Rôti, and Le Biscuit Croustillant Chocolate Noisette. I also got the wine pairing. This was sort of impromptu. I wasn’t planning on it, but I felt bad that my friend wasn’t there, and it just seemed like a good idea at the time. It was only ten euro more, so I figured I would go for it.

Right after they took my menu away, I was presented with this.

Okay. Panic. What do I do? I don’t know what this is? I don’t know how to eat it. There was an older couple sitting at the table on my left, reveling in my confusion. They told me to eat them. But how? Do I use my silverware? The French never eat with their hands. When I worked up the courage, I went for the middle one first. A crouton with an olive tapenade-like spread. As little as it was, it was full of flavor (and I love olives). It had a satisfying crunch from the crouton.

Now for the other two. I picked up the first one and put it on an extra plat I had to my left. I dipped my fork into the white cream. Then the tiny brown dish cracked. Oh. I get it. It is not a dish at all. It is a cracker that looks like a little dish. That is so clever. I like this place.

The white one was a potato puree. The other, well I don’t quite remember the other. All I remember is having trouble eating it because every bite I took was complicated by the greens on top. I can tell you, however, that all three were a delicious way to start my meal.

The sommelier came back with a white wine. He poured me half a glass and then asked me if he should speak English. I said yes. Wine is foreign enough without the language barrier.

The first wine was a Chardonney with ginger undertones and whatnot (serious on the ginger, though). He said it went well with the fattiness of the foie gras. I blindly believed him. In my limited knowledge of Chardonneys, this was a really strong one.

And then it came. Course one, accompanied by a nice little explanation by the server.

Served with a leaf of lettuce, some pumpkin, and a sweet sauce, the foie gras was absolutely to die for. My first experience with foie gras and certainly not my last. It just melted in my mouth. Paired with the softened pumpkin and sweet sauce, the flavor and texture combination was just right. I mopped up the sauce with the piece of bread I was given. I should say that the wine did go really well with the dish. I mean, what do I know about wine pairings? All I know is that it tasted good. Remarkable.

And then they took the cleaned plate away. And I sat contently and waited for my next course. The restaurant was a dream to sit in. Waiters passing by, pouring drinks, serving new dishes, etc. It was just nice to take in the atmosphere and the room. If my water cup got low (throughout the whole course of the meal), someone would come by and fill it up. Between courses, they reset my table. The service was impeccable.

The sommelier came back again. This time with a red wine. I don’t remember the variety, but it had hints of raspberry, so he told me. Another strong wine, I liked this one better than the white.

And here comes course two. The same deal as before.

The veal was perfectly cooked. And the shallots (lined up in the back) were caramelized just so. Soft on the inside and not too potent, they were a dream with the veal. The sauce tasted great to me. And the pepper on the plate added both something to the presentation and the flavor of the dish. I’m probably in heaven at this point.

But there is more. The veal was served with some mashed potatoes on the side.

These were, hands down, the best mashed potatoes of my life. They were smooth and creamy. The word silky comes to mind. You could taste the butter in them. Absolutely delicious.

At this point, everything but my three glasses (two wines and a water), the rose, and my glass Evian bottle was taken. A nice woman came by with her crumber to clean the table. Dessert was not far off.

The break between courses was nice. An opportunity to digest and take in the restaurant. Between courses two and three, the old couple to my left who had been talking about me the entire meal (the tables weren’t that far apart and I do understand French), started asking me questions. They were quite impressed by my quest for a good French meal at such a young age. “You have chosen well,” the woman assured me in French. We talked for a good ten minutes. I think they warmed up to me.

My new geriatric friends left (their six or seven course lunch was over at this point) and dessert came.

This was a work of art. Front: A crunchy little cookie under a scoop of dark chocolate ganache, chocolate/hazelnut moose, and two chocolate covered wafers. Back: a scoop of caramel ice cream topped by some coffee/chocolate sand (for lack of a better word) and a hazelnut covered in caramel colored sugar that pulls into a long needle.

Dessert was so good. It was so good. The chocolate ganache was deep and rich. The moose was light and fluffy. The caramel ice cream was cool and refreshing. And the sugar sculpture was fun and inventive. This is how much I enjoyed it.

So they took the plate away. But there was another surprise on my table. Chocolate and candy!

Just a little something after the meal. The chocolates were so good. They had little layers inside of cookie-like wafers and chocolate. I ate three. The candies were a chewy tropical fruit flavored surprise. A light way to end the meal (I ate one and took the other two with me).

After the meal, I got to talking to the two older ladies sitting at the table to my right. They were equally impressed by my story and excited to meet an American. Thanks to them, I knew to ask someone in the restaurant for the bill. Otherwise, I’d probably still be sitting there.

The sommelier came with the bill. I asked him to tell everyone in the restaurant that they had given me the best meal of my life. And I was honest. He thanked me for coming and assured me that it was their pleasure serving me. This is really a special restaurant.

And so got I up and left. The woman who greeted me at the door two and a half hours earlier had my scarf and coat ready. She opened the door for me and I was back in Lyon. For those two and a half hours, I was in a dream. A dream I won’t soon forget.