Another link in the tale of Bresse chickens. Friday 20th March 2009.

Just another ordinary day here, talking food with a personal friend of Paul Bocuse. John and I spent some time at Pierre Bastin's poultry shop discussing the wonderful Bresse chickens. Theirs is the next step in the paddock to plate tale after visiting Mieral, the factory in Montrevel-en-Bresse a few weeks ago. Yoann Bastin showed us, step-by-step, how they prepare a Bresse chicken for a client like us, or customers such as the master, Paul Bocuse who they deal with on a day to day basis. It is a family run business, their passion for what they do was what first attracted me to them. I approached them as a customer many weeks ago and Yoann launched into a long and passionate tale about why Bresse chickens are so good, the age of each one on display, the nuances between each etc. That lead us to the farm and factory and back again today to watch the preparation. We left with a plump Bresse chicken, tightly wrapped and oven ready, a gift from Yoann and Pierre. Yoann gave us specific cooking instructions to best enjoy this superb bird. Converted to Aussie dollars it is a $70 chicken! We will eat early, as soon as AJ arrives home from school as we are leaving for Phillipe's farm at 7pm. I'll let you know how it goes.

Oh, and just a little afterthought... Pierre gave me the phone number to the kitchen at Paul Bocuse Auberge just outside of Lyon. I have just got off the phone to the kitchen (even that is a buzz) and then to Martine Bocuse who will talk to Paul Bocuse tonight and call me to advise if it is possible to visit the kitchen to see their preparation of Bresse chicken and to do a photo session. I will be so surprised if it is possible but you just never know. Stay tuned!

A French headache. Thursday 19th March 2009.

Aghhh. A wasted day spent nursing my first French headache. I can assure you they are no more romantic than the Aussie variety...and French headaches do get fat, unlike the women!

There was music in the streets all day today, chanting, horns and drums filtered through the walls morning and afternoon. The French love a good protest that is for sure. Today they marched to protest government economic policy.

John took off the the Lumiere Museum, a museum of cinema and images, leaving me on the couch. Alex had a funny day at school and was only there between 8am - 10am and then for an hour from 2pm. Apparently the teachers joined the strike. I went out to get a few things in the afternoon. The protest looked like a good excuse for a day off work to me, with people protesting in an extremely happy state, drinks in hand.

Tomorrow we are off for a weekend in the country at Phillipe's farm. Until we return... 'au revoir'!!!

Something to make me smile. Monday 16th March 2009

Every day we spend on the other side of the world from home, loved ones are never far away. We are in constant contact with so many of you via email and Skype and it helps stave off any bouts of homesickness. This morning a very touching card arrived from my Cousin Kathy, I'll be sure to bring it home and add it to my box of treasures. It sits in the loungeroom where I see it every day along side Mum and Dad's post card which gives us our fix of Aussie scenery. Thank you all for keeping in touch, it makes our day!

Beautiful Beaujolais. Sunday 15th March 2009.

The alarm rang out at 3.30am. "Do we really want to go to the goat farm for milking this morning?" was my first conscious thought. Of course we do.

The car wound its way around the tiny roads in the back blocks of Beaujolais. The morning's light had just arrived when we found Vincent's farm. "Coffee first" he said as he walked us through the tiny hamlet of Les Combes. We sat around the dining table with Vincent and his wife and sipped hot coffee, sweetened with caramelised sugar cubes, which would hopefully stimulate us a little. A crusty loaf of dark, seeded bread was cut on the timber table, already gouged with marks from the serated bread knife.

Vincent took us to the milking shed that reverberated with bleating of about to be , and just milked goats. They were eager to get their mouths on our jacket sleeves, note paper or anything within their reach. They were cute with their tufty beards, inquisitive, snowy white, wise and soft as silk. I like goats.

The morning's still-warm milk came to the dairy in shining milk cans. Vincent was precise with everything he did. Precise without measuring, "I used to measure the acidity in the milk, now I just know, I feel it" he tells me. We all shared a 'button' of yesterday's cheese which was resting on racks before going to be dried a little. It was pure and creamy. Life on the farm is certainly simple but not necessarily easy. Vincent works long hours but this afternoon he will take his family walking in a nearby forest for his dose of family time.

We ended where we began, around the timber table filled with gouges. Another mug of hot coffee saw us on our way. Yet another memory filled with the hospitality of almost strangers. We leave with the name of a local Auberge for lunch. Life is a wonderful journey.

Alex thought it was time for some shut-eye as we drove to the pretty village of Beaujeu, the capital of the Beajolais region. This region is one of contrasts with northern Beaujolais being forest and pasture and the more southern area of Beaujolais Rouge which nourishes the grapes grown for winemaking.

Our tummies begin to grumble and midday was approaching so it was time to head to the town of Gremolles-sur-Grosne and to Vincent's recommended Auberge for a long lunch. Sophie welcomed us to Restaurant de la Grosne, Chez Sophie like old friends. The food was good and homely but it was Sophie who made the place. So sad to finish my meal with a creme brulee that did not inspire a chorus of oohs and ahhs, it was a little too solid. Creme brulee is either on the money or not, it's one of those things.

Gremolles-sur-Grosne is nothing much more than Sophie's friendly Auberge and a small church. Wandering up the narrow road we entered the forest where we found the makings of a fort. We laughed at how a few years ago, alex would have been running through the forest, an imaginary war playing out scenes in his head. Today he was full of quiet contemplation.

We began to drive with no particular direction in mind... ahh, the luxury of time. There on the signpost was an arrow to the town of Jullie. We went with the flow, how could we not visit the town named after my much loved little sister so off we went.

The road to Jullie wound down the side of a hill planted with gnarled grape vines. Even though not visible today, the time would come when nature would demand that the dry wood allow itself to sucumb to a smothering of new leaves and vines, and in turn, grapes for the new harvest.

The tiny village of Jullie held wonderful new surprises for us all in different ways, just like my sister. She holds something special for all of us and always seems to have enough love to share, to make you feel as though you, and you alone, are the most treasured thing in her life. I know this because we all feel this way. She's one in a million.

Alex asked to go for a walk while John and I investigated a wine cave and knocked back a cheeky Beaujolais. He reported back a few times between returning to his new aquaintances, a group of four young ladies around his age. They had a great time and he left with happy memories and a photo of his favourite. Meanwhile John and I were getting to know Simone, a girl from Cleveland, Brisbane who had married a French guy and they had settled in Jullie. They have renovated a building built in the 1700's to be a restaurant called 'Le Haut Beajolais'. It is centre stage in the village square and looks so inviting with its sun drenched terrace filled with french style tables and chairs. If they were open for dinner we would have stayed.

A quick call to Alex tore him away from the gaggle of girlies and we made our way home. Our eyelids were heavy with the memory of the 3.30am alarm. It is always nice to return home after a day on the road.

Time to breathe. Friday 13th March, 2009.

John has begun to venture into the kitchen from time to time. This morning he asked me how to make my garlic toasts and preceeded to make a batch to take on our picnic. He parcelled up the cheese we got a few days ago with a bread-board, knives, serviettes, apple, pear, wine and glasses and off we went. We rode bikes along the Rhone for quite a while and crossed over into the Presquille area between the two rivers. For the first time we found ourselves in the lovely Croix-Rousse area which is very old. We will spend a day up in Croix-Rousse this week discovering its little secrets like this picture below of one of the famous painted walls.

We rode back to the banks of the Rhone and lay in the sun together with our wine and cheese, it was bliss. The sky was powder blue and we even peeled off our jackets as we lay basking in the pleasure of the simple life.

Tonight we were invited to Theodore's (Alex friend) house by his parents Fred and Agnes, Ludovics family was there too and we had such a lovely night. John had bought Agnes a lovely gift of chocolates from her favourite chocolate shop which she loved. Fred is quite a wine enthusiast so we were spoiled with a different wine to match every course, from light, dry whites to reds softened with age. The laughter hardly stopped around the dinner table all night, they are all wonderful people, so interesting and full of the joy of life.

Agne is quite the cook. We ate saucisson and olives with an aperitif, a lardon salad, rare roast beef served with gratin potatoes which is Agnes's specialty - I can see why as they were delicious. Ludovics family made a chocolate and raspberry tarte for dessert, these two ingredients are a great match and the tarte was exceptional. One thing is for sure, I know we would not be experiencing this kind of hospitality if we were staying in a hotel room!

The Feast on Fowl. Wednesday 11th March 2009.

This morning after Alex went to school John and I had an appointment to meet the gorgeous fromager on avenue Jean Jaures. Her name was Monique and she was such a pleasure to chat to. She walked us through all the different cheese varieties, explaining their nuances and allowing us to try a few. John took some great photos and we left with our favourite Comte (aged for three years), a wedge of Moniques favourite, Brillat Savarin (75% fat - she salsa dances at night to keep it off her hips!) and a whole camembert from Normandy especially for Alex. While we were there a goat farmer from the Beaujolais region arrived with a delivery of fresh goat cheese made from the morning's milk. As we do, we got to chatting, and now this Sunday we are visiting his farm for the 6am milking and a cheese making session.




Alex only had a half day at school and finished at midday so we all went to lunch at a local restaurant called Saint-Florent. They only cook chicken dishes, with chickens only sourced from Bresse. Chef was born in Bresse and has a chicken obsession. He began to collect chickens when he was seven and has kept the collection going ever since. Inside, the restaurant is crammed with every kind of chicken memorabilia imaginable. Run by a husband and wife team, the feeling inside is warm and welcoming.



We could not decide what to order so Mme suggested that chef prepare a range of dishes for us. We dined like kings (and queen) and were treated to 11 different plates. I ate cocks comb for the first time too! We asked for the bill and to our surprise they would not take a penny. Chef gave me a red and a black Bresse chicken apron, I shed a tiny happy tear. The hospitality and warmth offered by the Lyonaiss people is something we will never forget and has really enriched our time here.




We rolled out onto the footpath and ambled home at about 4pm, what a way to spend an afternoon. The boys played cricket and then we all went out for a bike ride as the sun slipped away. The closing of another wonderful day in Lyon.



It looks like there are some fellow Aussies lurking around Lyon. It is not everyday you see window blinds on a car in Lyon with kangaroos on them! It made our day.

Vienne. Tuesday, 10th March 2009.

The town of Vienne lies 1/2 hour drive south of Lyon on the banks of the Rhone River and is home to Restaurant - Hotel La Pyramide. La Pyramide began with the legendary Fernand Point. The boulevard the restaurant is on was named after him. We photographed Patrick Henriroux, the two Michelin star chef who now ownes La Pyramide and had a look around the serene gardens. I thought of you Mum seeing the first few daffodils in bloom and isn't your favourite flower a pansy Dad? They are everywhere in purple and yellow.

We sat in the green space of Jardin public and enjoyed a delightful eclaire before beginning the tourist trail by following brass discs embedded into the footpaths.

Seeing the old Saint-Pierre church which houses the Archaelogical Museum made us realise how much restoration work is done on the historic sights you see as you travel. This old church has had little restoration work done and it is astonishing to see the difference. The windows are broken, sometimes with only the leadlight holding them together. The stone is darkened and bleak.


We wandered the sights of, Saint-Maurice Cathedral, the Roman Theatre, archeological gardens of Cybele, and the Temple of Augustus and Livia, all were beautiful.


We crossed the river for a view of Vienne from the other side of the fast-flowing Rhone before heading back home to Lyon.