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. 

Restaurant Bon in Paris

The Choco BON at Restaurant Bon

The Vinothèque at Restaurant Bon

I went to Paris a few weeks ago at the start of a break, and after traveling for nearly six hours, I knew I needed a good dinner. Luckily, my friends living in London who met me had done their homework and suggested we check out Restaurant Bon, freshly revamped in September 2008 by legendary designer Philippe Starck. 

Upon entering the restaurant, I was blown away by floor-to-ceiling white curtains, glass tableside lamps, and long white couches dueled by edgy chairs.  The interior was clever enough to "wow" guests without awakening nerves about touching everything in plain view. And trust me, you'll want to touch.  

We were immediately offered a house cocktail, which consisted of rum, coconut milk and pineapple juice. Tasty, but a touch too sweet to be consumed before lifting my salad fork.  

We started with the New Style Tuna (tuna carpaccio, fresh ginger, sesame) and the vegetable and basil spring rolls. Both plates were excellent, refreshing and devoured within seconds. We moved on to our entrees: The black cod "C'est Bon" (cod with soy sauce, sweetened in sake vinegar, caramelized) and Chilean sea bass with "Tom Yam" sauce (a pour version of the Thai hot and sour soup). I'm pretty sure at that point in the night, one could only hear the clangs of our forks hitting the plates. 

To finish, we shared the "Choco BON," a molten chocolate cake matched with a serving of chocolate ice cream.  I am a quality-ingredient girl through and through, but with molten chocolate cakes, I feel that whether it’s from Applebee's or Avenues, it can’t be bad.  But to say that the dessert will cause a repeat visit is more challenging to achieve, and Bon did just that.  At first, I was nervous the chocolate ice cream on chocolate cake on chocolate molten would be overkill - au contraire – it was perfection. 

I'm usually a bit hesitant about any restaurant that goes to the extreme of self-proclaiming quality in its name, not to mention half of its menu items. However, somewhere between the satisfaction from the best meal consumed in weeks and the mental blueprints of my future first floor, I found myself wanting to to add the word "très" to the sleek outdoor sign.