Last Day in Lyon

Ended my month with a lovely lunch… and a possible near-death experience?

My last days in Lyon have been brought to you by a heatwave and a wall of humidity. Most apartments here don’t have air conditioning, so I’ve been hiding out with the curtains drawn, fan blasting, and windows doing absolutely nothing. On my final day, it hit the high 80s—with enough humidity to flatten a croissant. And just for fun, Sunday kicks off a full week of rain without the temperature dropping. Apparently, I’m like Goldilocks, not too hot, not too cold. L.A. may have spoiled me.

Anyway, back to Lyon. As I pack up and reflect, I have to say: I really love the people. Warm, open, and surprisingly approachable. If I were staying longer, I think I would’ve made some true friends—especially from all the park visits where Copper has become quite the social butterfly. I’ve met so many lovely people at the park, in line at the boulangerie, over lunch at a café, and even with a solid 50% of my Uber drivers.

Would I live here long-term? Probably not. With a population of 1.8 million, Lyon is big—bigger than it seems at first. I thought, coming from L.A., that it might feel more relaxed because it’s so walkable. But oddly, in some ways it feels even more like a “city” than Paris. If I were going for city life, I’d choose Paris in a heartbeat. For me—and I know this is totally personal—Paris just feels more beautiful. Lyon has its charms, but it also feels a little more worn down, a bit grittier. And there’s no escaping the traffic, the scooters, or the motorcycles on the sidewalks. It’s busy and loud just about everywhere.

Which made discovering the park such a gift. A pocket of calm in the middle of the buzz—one I’ll definitely miss. But I have high hopes of the next park encounter in Dijon.

Lyon is the gastronomic capital of the world. There is one restaurant per 300 people in this city (thank you Jen for that tidbit). You are never far from food. But I am here by myself, and I don’t mind eating alone, but to do it day in and day out, there isn’t joy in that, for me. So, yes, I have had some amazing meals, and I make it a date with myself when I go, but it hasn’t been a daily occurrence. The other thing I have noticed about the food here at restaurants, not a lot of vegetables. Salad, always salad, like gem lettuce with some varieties. Not often do you get dark, leafy greens.

The Bouchons I have tried have been amazing. A bouchon is a uniquely Lyonnais type of restaurant. Historically, bouchons were run by the mothers of Lyon—called les mères lyonnaises—who cooked hearty, affordable meals for silk workers and laborers. We’re talking comfort food before it was trendy. The kind of dishes your French grandmother (if you had one) would make: slow-cooked meats, rich sauces, potatoes in every form imaginable, and plenty of cochonnailles (pork, pork, and more pork).

Dishes you can expect:

Quenelles de brochet – fluffy pike dumplings in a lobster-y sauce Nantua – This is probably something I never would have tried as the texture in videos looked like a big NO for me. But people raved about it. It takes 20 minutes to cook when you order it and it comes steaming hot. It is delicious. It is like a cloud of steamed fish in sauce. I know that might not sound like something you should run out and get, but if you like fish, you will love this dish.

Quenelle

Andouillette – a sausage for the brave (read the ingredients after you eat it) – Not one person who reviewed this dish liked it. It is basically tubes of intestines inside a tube and it is very smelly. It is called the sausage that separates the tourists from the locals. My niece and her husband her here at Christmas and they eat everything. They are excellent cooks; I have visions of them opening a restaurant together one day. Anyway, Jack ordered the Andouillette, and it was a big NO for him. If they didn’t like it, and they like everything, there is no way.

Salade Lyonnaise – frisée salad topped with lardons and a poached egg, aka the salad that eats like a meal. I met my very first friend in Lyon at Les Lyonnais for my last lunch in Lyon. This bouchon, classified as a "real bouchon lyonnais", is one of only 23 awarded this honor by the Lyon Chamber of Commerce. This is one of the Bouchon’s I had seen some reviews on so I knew going in I was getting the Salade Lyonnaise and the Praline Tart for dessert. I am not a praline person, but when in Rome, or Lyon!

The salad was pretty epic as far as salads go. A perfect poached egg. The “bacon” is almost bigger than the croutons and I am pretty sure it is baked not fried. It was really great. The praline tart, not my thing but I am glad I tried it.

Salad lyonnaise

On the menu, which I did not order was “Brains of a Silk Worker” I think there is something lost in translation here.

My last lunch in Lyon, along with the company was “parfaite.”

After my lovely lunch it was time to get back to Coppie, who had been alone a little too long. I look her out for her mid-day walk and we found a teeny tiny puppy. The first time we met this little guy, Copper was absolutely terrified—like, tail-tucked-under, wide-eyed frozen. But today? Total transformation. She was ready to play.

I was so proud of her. She ran circles around him, and they wrestled for a solid twenty minutes. Then, naturally, they teamed up and ran wild loops around me. The puppy had an extra-long leash that he somehow lassoed me with, and I went flying.

I slid down a hill and came this close to cracking my head on a tree. It happened so fast it actually scared the crap out of me—and the poor puppy’s owner, who didn’t speak a word of English. She was firing off rapid French trying to figure out if I was okay while I was literally upside down. I think I said “ça va” before I even knew if I was va.

Eventually, I got up—disoriented but fine. And then, of course, I got mad. (Why is that always my first reaction these days? I’m working on it.) Walk: over. We headed back to the apartment.

Halfway there, I reached into my pocket—no keys. Shit. They must’ve fallen out when I fell—in the middle of tall grass and trees.

So, back we went. I was sure I knew exactly where they’d landed. Until I got there. Turns out, the grass was much taller than I remembered from three minutes ago, and there were a lot more trees than the dramatic single tree that almost knocked me out.

Then another magical moment, there was a teenage boy sitting on the grass nearby who spoke perfect English. I told him I lost my keys. He literally got up and said, I saw something shiny. He walked right to them. It was bananas.

Up, down, up, down. Mad, happy, mad, happy. Trying to remember never to let the pendulum swing so far as it will always swing back.

Now I’m back in the apartment, finishing the last of the packing and cleaning. By tomorrow morning, I’ll just be a memory in this place. It feels like I just got here—and now I’m off to discover new corners of France.

Very excited for a smaller town… and to finally taste the real mustard of Dijon.

I leave Lyon with a list of my favorite restaurants, in order:

1.        La Halte Gourmande – For the fish n’ chips and overall homie atmosphere.

2.        The Chicken Special at this place I did not get the name, but it is in the 2nd Arrondissment right by the FNAC, definitely a family run restaurant. The BEST chicken I have even had.

3.        Coco’s prefix meal. The beef tartare and the beautiful décor.

4.        Brasserie George’s – The Quenelles as mentioned above. This is a place I would have liked to have a leisurely lunch with a friend and ordered a bunch of different things. It has so much history and it is just a vibe. Cafeteria meets old Hollywood.

5.        Chez Mamie (no website) – French Onion Soup, delicious.

French Onion Soup

There were plenty more delicious meals, but these were my favorites.