By Betty Gordon
© 2023 text and photos. All rights reserved.
This is the third in a series about my October 2022 trip to France and Switzerland. See my November 13 post about a scenic train ride from Zermatt to the Matterhorn area; and my December 11 post about secret WWII mountain defenses in Stanstaad, Switzerland.
Lingering remnants of jet lag and a quickly worsening cold are the wrong ingredients to mix when anticipating a special meal in the gastronomic capital of France.
I didn’t want to miss the opportunity, so with as little ado as possible on my part, we headed to Le Musée, an “authentique Lyonnais bouchon,” and a noon reservation, which had been made for us five days earlier by a kind friend of Sylvia’s who lives in Lyon.
The cozy, atmospheric restaurant is several long blocks north of Place Bellecour, one of the largest squares in Europe, with a dominating equestrian statue of Louis XIV. Technically it’s on Presqu’ile, the strip of land situated between the rivers Rhône and Saône.
At the tourist information center at Place Bellecour, visitors can pose with a seated likeness of chef Paul Bocuse, whose culinary innovations were associated with Lyon for much of his career. Famed chef, TV host and author Jacques Pépin, born in the nearby town of Bourg-en-Bresse, cooked in his mother’s Lyon restaurant from a young age, already certain that his future would involve food and its preparation.
Bouchons date to at least the 17th century in Lyon, and were popular among silk industry workers (les canuts), long important to the city’s economy, who wanted a hearty meal at a reasonable price in a welcoming setting. Think rustic food sourced from nearby regions, crafted more from internal organs and animal body parts rather than filet mignon.
Nowadays there are organizations pledged to preserve the spirit and traditions of bouchons. Certain eateries are authorized by L’Association de défense des bouchons lyonnais (The Association for the Preservation of Lyonnais Bouchons; no website that I could find) to display a specific sticker featuring a top-hatted puppet character — a nod to the city’s long history with marionettes — wearing a blue apron over a green shirt. In his raised left hand he holds a tilted, half-filled glass of red wine. In his right hand, tucked close to his body, is a squarish napkin displaying the white crest of Lyon — a rearing lion, of course — on a red background.
On the web, I came across Les Bouchons Lyonnais (https://lesbouchonslyonnais.org/en/), founded in November 2012, which has a bit of a different logo than described above, but with some background information on bouchons in general and a list of restaurants in Lyon. Some of the restaurants that I looked at were decidedly more upscale, not only in their dining room decor but in the plated examples of their cuisine. This group also has an affiliation with Lyon’s office of tourism.
Le Museé is mentioned with the former but not the latter, so it would appear there are dueling associations claiming to be keeping “the authentic” alive.
While workers may still frequent bouchons, on the day we stopped in it seemed that many of our fellow diners were tourists, though the foursome directly beside us I’m pretty sure were locals, based on their familiarity with the food. We arrived a few minutes earlier than our reservation, and were invited to look at the traboule behind Le Musée.
These pedestrian-only passageways, many of them covered, were used by silk workers to transfer goods in various stages of production from one location to another while mostly protected from the elements. Some are very narrow and plain and are attached to what look like apartment buildings. In some areas of the city, the entry to a traboule is indicated by a decorative lion’s head.
During the Nazi occupation in World War II, familiarity with the traboules allowed members of the French Resistance to evade capture, safely disappearing into the labyrinth and living to fight another day.
We were among the first to be seated, next to the lace-shaded window at a table covered with a red-and-white checkered cloth. I sat on the red padded bench side below a wall-long mirror, with a view of the compact bar on the other side of the room.
All the tables in long rows were jammed very close together. To get up during the meal meant apologizing for jostling our neighbors. Fewer than 40 people were at lunch, and those who turned up without a reservation were politely sent away.
Service at Le Musée is extremely personalized. Don’t expect a waiter to hand you a menu, recite the day’s specials and disappear.
No, the routine here is that Monsieur Luc Minaire sandwiches himself close to his patrons, holding a hand-written paper listing in French the day’s offerings. Fortunately he spoke enough English to describe the choices to us.
Before our trip, I had checked an online site to get an idea of what to expect (Le Musée does not have a website). Because I do not eat pork or a lot of what I saw online, I was hoping that there would be some chicken main courses available.
Alas, that was not the case. Our choice of starters included terrine du chef (pâté in a mold), os à moelle (bone marrow), gâteau de foie de volaille (chicken liver cake), escargots au pistou (snails with pesto), salade de pleurottes (greens with oyster mushrooms), velouté de butternut (cream of butternut squash soup), saucisson brioche (sausage baked inside a loaf of bread) and terrine de betterave et chèvre frais (layered pâté with beets and goat cheese). (I used the spellings as written.)
Among our main course options were joue de porc (pork cheeks), boudin aux pommes (blood sausage with apples), échine de porc (pork shoulder), andouillette de bobosse (pork sausage, usually made with tripe), fondant de veau au cognac (veal with cognac) and quenelle de brochet (pike dumplings).
I selected the cream of butternut squash soup sprinkled with chives, and Sylvia had the oyster mushroom salad. with a light creamy vinaigrette-like dressing.
For our entrees, we both ordered a quenelle. Ingredients may vary, featuring such possibilities as a type of ground fish other than pike, chicken, veal or game. There also may be butter, flour, eggs and cheese in the mix. Obviously, I wasn’t in the kitchen, so this description is just a generalization.
Once the “paste” is made, the oval-shaped quenelle is shaped by passing it back and forth in a parallel scooping and rotating motion between two spoons of equal size. The finished ovals are then poached in a broth, and in our case, served in a rich lobster sauce.
The quenelles came in an oval dish, accompanied by two ample plates of creamy potato gratin, with sliced carrots and sautéed onions. Once the quenelles were sitting atop the gratin, the portion was impressive. Even if I were feeling in top condition, I never would have been able to eat it all.
As you can tell, this wasn’t frou-frou food. I doubt anyone was using tweezers in the kitchen to place a garnish just so, or prattling on about wild-foraged greens or mounds of organic hay.
The soup was delicious, sublimely silky with just the right amount of seasoning. The dense quenelles reminded me of matzo balls, but much more refined. The potatoes were perfectly delicate but not so much that they fell apart.
For dessert, Sylvia ordered the praline tart, a Lyon specialty, which was accompanied with an oval scoop of dark chocolate mousse. The tart’s almond filling was so red, it would give any cranberry-based concoction a real run for its money. It was also extremely sweet, and I only had a small taste.
My two courses cost a total of 23 euros, when the dollar was about par with the euro. Sylvia’s was 35 euros with the added dessert, a glass of wine and two cup of espresso. (Prices are 5 euros higher per course for dinner.)
The next day we found the tart’s bright raw ingredient at a small grocery called Ma Petite Fourmi. The red sugar-covered almonds, called simply pralines (though I saw it referred to as Les Pralines Roses de Lyon also), sold for about 5 euros, with the nuts either whole or in pieces. Apparently they are sometimes eaten right out of the bag. The nuts are sold elsewhere in Lyon and also can be ordered online.
Quick reference: Le Musée, 2 Rue des Forces, Lyon. +33 04 78 37 71 54. Entry is through all alley to the back. Hours: Opens at noon for lunch on Tuesdays-Saturdays, and 7:30 p.m. for dinner those days; no dinner service Saturdays. Closed Sundays-Mondays. Hours subject to change. Metro stop: Cordeliers.
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