Coussins in Lyon

A chocolate-filled coussin

When in Lyon, I had seen a collection of colors in storefronts that bore no resemblance to macarons, and I was intrigued. I came to discover these tiny squares as “coussins”, which literally translates to “pillows.” The appellation is close to perfection for these candies, which are smaller yet plumper than your average Fig Newton.

Ranging from strawberry to chocolate, coussins are made with sugar and almond paste and are then filled with either ganache or jam, depending on the flavor. My first instinct caused me to reach for raspberry.

For such a simple pastry, I was thoroughly pleased by the subtly sweet pink exterior, which concealed the richness of the fruit inside. It could best be compared to eating a spoonful of Bonne Maman jam (maybe something I've been guilty of doing), but without the weird looks of passers-by - or for that matter, your neighbor on the train.

Bugnes pastries in Lyon

Bugnes

View of a Salon du The in Vieux Lyon

When I was in Lyon, I was fortunate enough to have with me a resident of the city to show me some of the ropes. And while museums and parks can be nice, I knew exactly what I wanted to do in Lyon – eat.

I spent the second day of my sojourn in Vieux Lyon, the oldest part of the city, which is recognized by tiny, cobblestone streets of only pedestrians browsing ubiquitous shops and “salon du thes.” We stopped into one to try some bugnes, just one of Lyon’s trademark edibles.

Bugnes are extremely thin, fried pastries covered in powdered sugar. They’re light, crispy and the perfect complement to a café au lait. After the first bite, I was immediately taken back to Sunday afternoon’s at my grandma’s kitchen in the south side of Chicago, where we spent afternoons talking and sampling various Polish pastries of the local bakeries. Though no less messy, they were a touch more delicate, and for lack of a better term - French.

La Menthe

Restaurants are abundant in Lyon. This fact, paired with the fact that the city is home to Paul Bocuse, Pierre Orsi, and Guy Lassausaie, is exactly why the town is considered the culinary capital of France (and possibly of Europe).

However, after being turned away from four nearly vacant restaurants due to our lack of reservations on a Saturday night, I had second thoughts. With a city so populated by culinary destinations, was it them being overly pretentious by not squeezing us in, or was it us who were the fools for not planning ahead?

Fifth time is a charm, though, at least for us. We spotted a darling restaurant on the corner of Rue de Merciere and Rue Dubois, which was jam-packed with diners. After little luck at empty restaurants that awaited their first seating, we were gladly shocked as they immediately cleared us a window-side table.

The room was cluttered with character, including broken pottery glued to walls, family photos and baskets of bread hanging above each table. All of these distractions, matched by arm’s length table passages, proved a near impossible trek to the bathroom up the 10-step staircase - and if you could do it without spilling someone’s Bordeaux, a toast would be in order. We were elated.

Menus were dropped before us with various “Formules”, or prix-fixe options, but with no food descriptions. Seconds later, a chalkboard was set against our window with answers. The three of us all sprung for the option of “farandole des entrees et 1 des plats,” translating to an individual tasting plate of all of the listed appetizers and one choice of entrée.

The farandole was excellent, including red pepper hummus, tomato crostini, spinach quiche, and a small cup of mushroom soup placed in the center. To follow, I chose the marinara chicken leg served with mashed potatoes.

La Menthe was exactly what we needed that evening. While it didn’t quite live up to the contemporary food or atmosphere I was expecting to be greeted by in Lyon, it provided the comfort that we required. For after all of our rejection earlier in the night, I still somehow managed to walk home in mint condition.

Le Petit Roi de la Lune

Sauteed scallops in basil sauce, bacon chip

Foie gras brioche with smoked magret

At first I thought this Dijon restaurant was linked to “Le Petit Prince” with its title and logo, but  it is, indeed, an independent, yet no-less-charming enterprise. The woodsy interior with neon-green apron-clad servers perfectly exemplified contemporary meets cozy.  The modern, laid-back ambiance immediately caused me to feel that I had landed somewhere between Chicago restaurants Boka and Mado, somewhere in the middle of France. 

After prompt water and bread service, we received our (single) menu: A chalkboard that was propped against our neighboring wall, which was then carried to the next undecided table.  I really dig the chalkboard menu concept, and even more so when I am able to read it without squinting my eyes and asking the couple at the next table to move their heads "just a little more to the left.. a little more..."  To be able to cut paper costs while building character is just one of the dual-purpose ideas that this place has done right. 

I ordered the foie gras brioche to start. Thinking it would be a warm brioche, I was slightly disappointed to taste a cold sandwich. That feeling lasted a mere second, though, and it melted away as quickly as the foie. The smoked magret that was placed on the side salad was also a fantastic complement. 

Next, I had the sauteed scallops with a basil cream sauce, which was simply out of this world. It’s sauces like this one that inspire complete kitchen amateurs to possess the need to sign up for the next series of sauce and stock classes. It was rich, but balanced by the perfect pinch of acidity. 

The restaurant’s storybook charm proved to continue throughout the evening with the personal blackboard menu for dessert, the Camembert cheese carton check presenter and the lottery-ticket-esque business card (scratch-off required).

A must for anyone in this area who is looking for a present-day spin on Burgundy décor and food (seemingly difficult to find in an area so rooted in tradition) for middleclass fare and regal quality. 

Flandrin Chocolates in Nantes

The Diamond at Flandrin Chocolates

Assortment at Flandrin Chocolates

Macaron window display at Flandrin Chocolates

I spent this past weekend in Nantes, and along with some sight-seeing, I was much in favor of finding  ‘des Muscadines’, a regional specialty of chocolates filled with grapes and wine. I stopped into Flandrin, a tiny patisserie on Rue Gén Buat, with a not-so-tiny macaron display.

They had no muscadines, but that hasn't stopped me before.  In addition to a free chocolate of our choice (I always jump for buttered caramel and fleur de sel combinations), I decided on a few praline milk chocolates and one of Natalie Flandrin's favorites, the Diamond (cognac-filled dark chocolate).  After all, who needs Muscadet?

Angelina in Paris

The Bourbon Vanilla Millefeuille at Angelina

The Mont Blanc at Angelina

After romping through the eight departments of the Louvre, my fellow travelers and I were in for a much needed break and a sugar re-charge. By guidebooks and locals alike, we knew exactly the place: Angelina.
After a fifteen-minute wait out the door to the Belle Epoque-themed tea room, we were taken to our table. With Angelina being a Parisian staple since 1903 that held diners such as Coco Chanel and Marcel Proust, word has circulated about exactly what the restaurant does best: The Mont Blanc (meringue center, chestnut purée, whipped cream) and the Chocolat L'Africain (hot drinking chocolate) happen to be two of them.
We sat down and ordered these classics, in addition to a "wild card" - the best looking one to us on the dessert tray – the Bourbon Vanilla Millefeuille.
The Mont Blanc was incredible on several accounts: incredibly thought up, incredibly rich, and incredibly quick to disappear.
While the hot chocolate ‘pitcher’ was, in fact, meant for one person, I don’t know if one person alone could conquer it. Or at least that’s what we convinced our friend who had ordered it. Far from your Nestle or Carnation, this was closer to a chocolate pudding meets mousse, and it was sensational. With the Mont Blanc and Millefeuille at hand, though, I had to experience the hot chocolate in my coffee as my taste buds came down from their sugar high.
After our jaunt to Angelina, it took me a while to consume another sweet anything. But, I reminded myself - "I'm in Paris!" And if Coco did it, then I can, too.

Le Coeur Fou in Paris

After a friend and I saw a concert in Paris at Casino Nouveau (fabulous venue, by the way), we headed to the Latin Quarter, one of my favorite areas of the city, to finish the evening. We were about to sit outside at a traditional bistro under some heat lamps and do some people-watching when I mentioned I felt more inclined to be inside (for once).  And for that matter, I wanted a well-made cocktail rather than a decision of Martini Blanc or Rouge.

She took me just a block further to a Le Coeur Fou ("the crazy heart"), a two-room bar, populated by Parisian hipsters and chic 20-somethings. The all-white interior was sparsely decorated by abstract artwork and dimly-lit by one lone chandelier and near-naked lightbulbs lining one wall.

After my requests for a Manhattan and Old Fashioned were rejected, I waited to see what the bartender would come up with (whisky as my only guideline).  After having a glow stick stuck into my vodka soda at the concert, I was relieved to see a dark, short whiskey sour placed in front of me. 

Would I go back? In a heartbeat.