Paul Bocuse

The passing of Paul Bocuse this last week reminded us our our first and only visit to his restaurant in Collonges outside of Lyon. The French Franc was trading at about ten to the dollar, which meant that we could afford a meal in this three star gem, so we booked a fine hotel in Lyon and hopped in the Audibahn cruiser for the five hour journey.  Our hotel was a gem, small, well appointed and well situated. The Audi just barely fit in the garage but once there we had no need for it for the next three days so all was well. 

We had arranged our reservation for 19:30 and the hotel arranged for a taxi to take us on the half hour journey to the temple of holy cuisine. The restaurant from the distance is a gaudy little bit of  tribute to Boucuse, his name is garish neon can be seen for kilometers and upon arriving we were met by a tall black man dressed just like some of the more garish groom boy lawn ornaments in the USA. The restaurant itself is made up of lots of rooms, some small and intimate others larger for big events. We were seated at a lovely table near the fireplace where the famous chickens from Bresse were grilled over the embers. We stated with two glasses of Champagne which were accompanied by a small plate of gougeres, which are cheesy little pastry puffs, and little rounds of toast some with pate, others with salmon, all marvelous. 

I ordered everything that I knew the restaurant to be famous for, starting with a rich truffle soup covered with a flaky pasty crust and baked until brown and delicious. That was followed by the chicken which I must say was cooked to perfection and tasted nothing like any chicken I had ever had before. I know we had a bottle of Chablis and a half bottle of some red, but can’t remember. If Cindy had her ‘books’ here I could even tell you the type of fish Cindy ordered by my mind is not as sharp as her books. 

The cheese trolley was enormous, bigger than many cheese shops, with at least sixty types of cheese displayed, and more in the back if there was something you wanted that wasn’t there. Not sure how we did it, but we managed to each have at least three cheeses and the waiter thought we should have even more. Once all the dishes, silver and glasses were removed, they brought us each a plate of desserts, mostly small little tarts, cookies, fruit, chocolate mousse in a small container with Paul Boucuse written on it and a few chocolates. We thought that was the most fitting end to a perfect meal possible, until of course they came around with the dessert trolley!! Yes, we had been introduced to mignardises, which are small sweets to open the palate for dessert. The dessert trolley was another of those earthmover sized affairs which I think contained every dessert known in the French speaking world. We modestly, with much protestation from the waiter, ordered two each and realized why a good French meal can take three hours to plow through.

During our time at table we noticed that Mme Bocuse was making the rounds, meeting, greeting, kissing, and just generally schmoozing with the guests. She even came over to our table and we spoke a while in French and then she graciously switched to English as we swooned over our dinner.  She said her husband had been at their restaurant in Tokyo for the past week and wasn’t sure he would be in this evening. But much to our good fortune, just as we were about to drink our cognacs, in walked the legend, in his full whites with medals displayed and he pranced about his domain with a certitude, despite his obvious jet lag. He did come by and said hello, signed our menus and moved on receive more adulation from his adoring patrons.

All and all, it was a marvelous meal ad great experience. Having met him at the height of his fame was a real trip and one that we obviously remember with great élan! We