Eating Lyon (Part 1)
Mrs IG wandered off, probably somewhat embarrassed. The brown and white dog looked like he was humping my Samsonite bag. The Gendarme had a wry smile on his face. I’ll be the first to admit that my French doesn’t cover having a conversation with an official about his dog trying to screw my luggage, so we switched to English.
‘There’s nothing in there you know. Well, nothing illegal.’
‘I know Monsieur. He is not giving me the signal.’
‘He looks … well, pleased to meet my bag.’
‘I think you might have something in there, food maybe?’
‘There is some saucisson.’
‘He likes saucisson.’
With that, he jerked the leash and headed off with his dog to find some drug smugglers. I checked the bag for residue, and finding none, headed to check-in.
I had lied when I said I had some saucisson. Unless, of course, you translate ‘some’ as ‘shitloads’. I had a fair few large Saucisson Lyonnaise, a few generic Saucisson du Porc, and a few dozen varieties of Saucisson Sec including Boar, Duck, Stag, Donkey, Cepes, Comte, Roquefort, Goats Cheese and Hazelnut. It wasn’t just sausages, though. I also had some Girelles and Trompette de la Mort. I had around a dozen cheeses, the names and origins of which were – and still are – unknown. I just picked a load of the stinky runny ones from a market stall. There was also a selection of duck and goose rillettes, duck and goose foie gras, and confit duck gizzards.
I also had purchased an old cookery book of Lyonnaise specialities. It’s in French, so I’ll have to brush up on the language. The food was, in short, magnificent. Well, mostly magnificent. There were a few average dishes that lacked a little something, and few disappointments which were, I believe, down to poor cooking. I intend to perfect a few of the more interesting Bouchon specials and will post up the recipes once they’re perfected.
I also intend to attempt to make my Andouillettes. There are two types of people in this world. There are those who swear they can taste fecal matter in Andouillettes because they’re convinced they are made of rectums, and there are those of us who can’t, because we know they’re not, no matter how often the ignorant folks say they are via Wikipedia.
I shall also add some reviews of Bouchons for anyone heading to Lyon.
Now, isn’t it lunchtime?