Bouchons, Bocuse and Beyond- Food of Lyon


Lyon is regarded as a food mecca for those seeking out traditional and rustic French cuisine. As with any urban city, there is always a high possibility of being fonted. What is fonted you say? Well, it’s a self-invented term: this verb, in the past tense, is used when someone has paid too much money after being lured into an eating establishment by classy font on a sign or a visually appealing interior that gives a false impression that the food is good as well.

So do your research and get reservations to avoid it!

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French Wine- Differences between Northern and Southern Rhône

Châteauneuf Du Pape

The wine industry has always intimidated me with there being so much to know about the grapes, land, climate, process etc. I’ve done several wine tours in Washington, Oregon and California but after a glass of wine my concentration tends to ebb along with the retention of my newfound knowledge. Old world wines are even more confusing as wine is identified by region, and the regulations that fall under it, rather than the variety. Thus, I took on the Rhône Valley with trepidation but determined to piece it all together.

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Does a Food Hierarchy Make a ‘Foodie’?

Tarte aux légumes

Regardless of being in the country, every food encounter seems devoted to the food lover in Provence. The roadsides stands are filled with seasonal fruit and vegetables of the region (though some come from Spain). Each small village has a couple bakeries, a meat and charcuterie shop, a cheese shop and fruit and vegetable stands selling fresh products at a reasonable price. Then there is the weekly farmer’s market in each village that lures its clientele with its colorful displays of produce, vast selection of Mediterranean fish and mouthwatering rotisserie chicken among other things.

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Festival De La Gastronomie Provençale

Fruit Tarts

For the last week, Chris and I have been in a small town called Cadenet, France, which is located in the Provence-Alps-Côte d’Azur region.

The subtle scent of lavender and rosemary wafts through the warm summer air while we peruse les marchés of the charming Provençal villages nearby. Next, we cruise down the highway in our Peugeot as we look for roadside fruit stands, windows down; wind against our face, passing seemingly endless vineyards as the soft hum of cicadas compete for our attention over our French equivalent of Snoop Doggy Dog on SkyRadio. Don’t worry, this isn’t the start of some Peter Mayle sequel (if it was my punctuations would be in the correct spot) but rather my way of telling you that Provence is the real deal.

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