Lyon, October 21-24, 2013

We arrived into Lyon on the high speed train for a three-night stay at the Cour des Loges hotel located in the Vieux Lyon district which is narrow lanes paved with white marble and cobble stones. A perfect cloak and dagger setting. Lots of twisty streets barely one car's width. And old, founded by the Romans in 43 B.C.

The Cour des Loges was cobbled together in 1986 from four existing fourteenth-Century buildings that surround a courtyard. It is a colorful and eccentric place. Amusing to explore the all the stone spiral stairwells and akimbo passageways. Though it becomes serious to imagine the Jesuits in the seventeen-eighties who, during the French Revolution, were taken from our building and probably guillotined. The revolutionaries were keen to exterminate aristocrats and the clergy who they felt were responsible for keeping the rich rich and the poor poor.

We went to a performance at the Lyon Opera of "The Dialogue of the Carmelites" composed in the nineteen-fifties by Mr. Francis Poulenc. It tells the story of a church full of Carmelite nuns who were rounded up and guillotined during the French Revolution. Was it at "our" hotel?

The layout of Lyon is very attractive. Hilly like San Francisco, but with two rivers slicing through it. Between the rivers are spacious plazas, a large fountain by Bartholdi who built our Statue of Liberty and the grand city government buildings. There are of course a lot of bridges. And in general, most of Lyon is a pleasure stroll with allées of trees and river fronts and boulevards and hilltop vistas.

Much attention is given in travel literature to the Traboules of Lyon. These are in essence short cuts that go right through the ground floors of buildings. We visited a few. I felt awkward. These shortcuts go through residential buildings. I would not enjoy random tourists squawking in foreign languages walking through my backyard and I'm certain the Lyonnaise don't like it either.

Did we eat? Yes we did. Cream and butter and organ meats are alive and well in Lyon. We passed on the organs, but brought on the butter and cream.  Our outstanding meal was in the bouchon of "Daniel et Denise". The new owner, Charles Viola, kept the old name and the old style cuisine. He's been recognized and awarded many honors, but in the end, is his food delicious? Yes, very. At our table was a salad lyonnaise of frisée lettuce, lardon (bacon chunks), bacon slices and a poached egg. I've had it many times before, this one was "the one". There was a plate of pommes dorées, thick potato slices cooked in butter till golden and crisp. And a carafe of outstanding house wine. And a plate of macaroni doused with cream and cheese. And a filet of a fish called, bar. And pork roast. And squash soup laden with cream. And île flottante for dessert. The room was filled with happy diners. There was pleasure and laughter. The table cloths were a classic red and white checked pattern. The servers were young, kind and patient. It was a wonderful meal, but probably not something one should have regularly.

We ate an excellent lunch at, Maison Villemancy, perched on the edge of a hill in a park overlooking the city and the Rhone River. We ate "Volaille  fermière des Dombes à la crème parfumée à la châtaigne et riz basmati".  The Dombes plateau in the northeast, and the adjacent plain of Bresse, produce the finest chickens in France, with red combs, white plumage, and blue feet, the colors of the French flag!  Our chicken was, indeed, served with several inches of it's blue leg in a chestnut cream sauce.
For dessert we had the "clafoutis aux figues fraiche et glacé pain d'épices": fresh figs baked in a light egg custard batter with a scoop of anise-spice-bread ice cream in the center.

We visited the Lumiere Museum which is housed in the mansion of the Lumiere brothers. The house alone is worth the visit. It is very grand with many original carved wooden banisters, large expanses of stained glass windows, ornate floor tiles, parquet wood and a a bedroom with original furnishings. But the museum's mission is to recall the day in eighteen-ninety-five when the brothers set a camera atop a tripod and filmed the workers coming out of their factory.  It is the first motion picture ever made on film stock. There are blue lights embedded in the sidewalk where the camera once stood and a large glass panel etched with the life-sized images of the workers erected where the factory gate once stood. That is the entryway to the pavilion for the Lyon Film Festival which occurred two weeks ago.

Overlooking Lyon, on a plateau, is the Croix Rousse, named for a russet color cross that was long ago placed there. That neighborhood was the center of the hive of silk manufacturing. There they would cultivate the silkworms, unravel their cocoons, feed sixty silk fibers into a machine to make thread, then weave the thread into fabric. That was in the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth-Centuries. The wages were low. The conditions harsh. Silk is still created in the neighborhood, though not on the same scale. And the machines are still there. Fascinating concoctions of thousands of moving parts and hole-punched cards seeming like primitive computer technology.  The machines are still standing in rooms in the buildings where they were once operated. Their complexity boggles the mind.

Lyon was a hit with us.

Lyon

Cour des Loges Hotel

Lyon lies about midway between Turin and Paris so it seemed like an opportune time to visit the city in Paris that is best known for its restaurants.  That's right, they say that Paris is heart of France but Lyon is its stomach!  Based on our short time there we didn't find any reason to disagree!  Food is first and foremost what people in Lyon talk about and young start-up chefs and their restaurants are everywhere. Lyon is also a UNESCO world heritage city.  We stayed in one of the most interesting hotels I've ever seen.  Located in the oldest part of Lyon the hotel has a fantastic courtyard right out of the Renaissance and consists of a warren of rooms on various levels.  But it also has modern conveniences including a swimming pool tiled with mosaics akin to a Roman bath but with an automated current machine so I could swim in place.

I was anxious to try the famous chicken raised in Bresse - just to the north of Lyon.  And fortunately we found it on several menus.

Bresse chicken leg and thigh

The chef Paul Bocuse is from Lyon and one of his enterprises is Les Halles de Lyon - a food emporium (shopping mall) where each of the 80+ stores sell prepared foods of a very high quality.  There are also cheese, meat and fish purveyors.  But it bears little resemblance to the other colorful markets of Europe we have visited in Paris, Barcelona or Rome.  This marketplace has a high gloss very rich feel and there is no sawdust on the floor or vendors shouting out the prices of their goods.

Goat cheese on display at the Paul Bocuse food emporium "les Halles"

Jacobin square

We also came upon an interesting mural on the side of a building some six or seven stories tall.  It depicts the hilly landscape of Lyon and is so realistic it seems as though one could walk right up the stairs.  Here is a photo of Marlow standing next to one of the people depicted in the mural that provides a good sense of the scale of this mural.

Realistic life-size mural on side of building

Detail from mural

October 27, 2013

Canal St. Martin

On a sunny fall Saturday we rode our velib bikes up to the Bassin de la Villette - the starting point of the Canal St. Martin.  The Canal was built by Napoleon I in 1802-1825 to bring fresh water into the Seine from bodies of water to the north of Paris.  The Bassin is located in the north of Paris past the Gare de l'est.  The canal passes under many footbridges and several "draw bridges" where the road passing over the canal shifts to the side rather than rising to permit the boats to pass.  A major portion of the canal between the Place de la Republic and the Place de la Bastile is covered over so many people are not even aware of the canal beneath them.  But the boats continue to pass through the very long tunnel until they reach the Seine.  I have always been fascinated to watch the locks operate to adjust the water levels but have never taken the 2.5 hours needed to actually view the canal from the perspective of a boat...until now!

Entering the 4.5km Canal at the Bassin de la Villette in NE Paris

Sur la passerelle

A lock on our way down to meet the Seine

Route of the canal St. Martin cruise into the Seine

October 26, 2103

16 Oct 2013, "da Felicin" in Monforte d'Alba

Have I mentioned the bread sticks? Called grissini in Italian. They are made by hand and quite long.  Fourteen to eighteen inches of thin, light as air, delicate crispness that call out to be picked up from their pile and eaten inch by inch. The crumbs fall onto the tablecloth and, here, that is not a problem, bread plates are foreign. When the grissini arrive on the table the meal begins.

And so it was on Thursday night when we arrived at the hilly village of Monforte d'Alba. From the small piazza, in the flats of the town, cobblestoned streets begin a steep, curving ascent to a three-cornered, grassy, terraced, intimate piazza called the Auditorium Horszowski, named in 1986 for the Polish pianist who played until he was one hundred years old.  The buildings in that particular area are in an outstanding state of repair. Beautifully painted. Perfectly landscaped, with occasional passion fruit vines, kiwi and pomegranate trees, and not an ivy leaf out of place. And once back down the hill there is the ristorante, "da Felicin."

What a friendly bunch they are at "da Felicin."  They met us at the door all smiles and warmth. Inside, our table, with grissini, for seven was in a long room. Intricate carpets lay on the floor. Large wooden tables held sprays of orchids in large vases and cyclamen in delicate bowls.  And it was quiet. Imagine, a restaurant where you can hear across the table.

"da Felicin's" wine cellar is famous. We were happy to be asked to see it. Even happier when it's door was opened and we were immersed in essence of white truffle. I swooned. The truffles are stored there in the cool and damp cellar. There was a lot of wine, too. Bottles of the most esteemed local wines from the greatest years. The best of Barolo.

Back at the table we settled on our menu choices. The waiter, though, had other plans so, instead, we put ourselves in his hands and this is what we had.

First up, Merluzzo, a white fish over puréed root vegetables, sprinkled with pumpkin seeds.

Next was, "Rotonda di reale di Fassone marinato con crema al Gorgonzola, favette e profumi," which was thin slices of raw Fassone beef, bright red, strewn with raw porcini mushroom slices, fava beans fresh out of their shells and drizzled with a purée of Gorgonzola dolce and anchovy.

Then came, "Zabajone di Parmigiano, verdure di stagione e top in ambour (?) crocanti", otherwise known as endive leaves with florets of broccoli and cauliflower, crisp fried fingerling potato chips drizzled with a zabaglione of golden egg yolks, lemon and mascarpone cheese.

Finally, the main course, "Faraona disossata, verdure au tunnali (?), funghi porcini e tartuffo nero". Crisp skinned guinea hen, deboned, then rolled up with black truffle and porcini mushrooms, and sliced into discs.

A member of our dining party is passionate about wine. He chose for our dinner two wines. First, a Barbera D'Alba by G.D. Vajra from 2007. It was an excellent opening act for the star, our second wine, a Barolo by Sandrone, "Le Vigne," from 1999.  It was outstanding. Love at first sip.

Marlow and Wes
Monforte d'Alba
16 October 2013

A few more photos from the Langhe

We were so fortunate to have ideal Fall weather for our five days in the Langhe.  Each day was sunny, after the morning fog burned off, and in the high 60s.  Just perfect for hiking in the vineyards.  On the last day of our visit the weather started to turn to a thicker fog and they were predicting rain for the following day.  The pace of activity in the vineyards picked up considerably once the thick fog arrived.  The farmers swiftly shifted from an attitude of letting the grapes stay on the vines as long as possible to soak in the sun and improve sugar content to one of clipping the bunches of grapes as quickly as possible.  The roads and hillsides were filled with activity related to the harvest.  Loads and loads of small trucks ferrying the just picked grapes to the processing locations.  And many people about the village with clippers in their back pockets. 

Relaxing at our home in the vineyard - villa carita

The harvest

Morning fog

Ready for picking

La Morra, Oct 15, 2013

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Village of La Morra. Province of Cuneo. State of Piemonte. In the far north west corner of Italy.

So, I have been a slacker. We are in Torino and I've said nothing about La Morra in the Piemonte. Here are a few words. Piemonte means the foot of the mountain. That is seriously true. Tootling around La Morra on certain roads we can see the Matterhorn. Yes, the Matterhorn. It pokes up above the local scenery. It is craggy, pointy and snow covered. That is the mountain we are at the foot of. There are Alps to the north, south and west of us.

Our Villa Carita rooms are in a small building carved into a hillside. The building has only two guest suites in it. The grape vines begin their tremendous descent into the valley from twelve feet away from our bed.

We are in a vineyard. And not just any vineyard. We are in the "cru" of La Serra, Boiolo and Brunatte.   The  "cru" means a particular patch of grape vines. They are owned co-operatively by farmers. And several wine makers get a row or two of these various cru's. The greatest of the cru's produce superior grapes.

When a batch of grapes is harvested their juice is analyzed. Color, tannin and sugar are measured. At the end of the harvest, whichever batch of grapes had the best numbers wins a premium price for the farmer who grew them: five euros per kilo versus two euros per kilo. Some grapes consistently beat all the others. The ones in our "yard" are some of the best. I can tell you they taste great eaten off the vine.

As for these villages, they are so darn sweet. Like fairy tale places. I skip around humming "Camelot" or "funiculee, funiculah". Hill top castles, ancient bell towers.  And all those grape leaves which currently are putting on a show of autumn color.

And there are old fashioned people who care passionately about a cow, a grape, a mushroom, a cheese. The food here is distinct. The local white Fassone cows are so pampered their meat is eaten raw, like steak tartar, or cooked extremely rare. The white truffles are smelling up the forests in October so one eats a lot of those. The pasta here is made with so many yolks it is golden. Twenty yolks per pound of flour. Bad for your veins. Good for your taste buds. It gets dressed with butter, cheese and sage or with freshly picked porcini mushrooms. They take pride in knowing who made their cheese, who baked their bread, who raised their beef, what their chicken ate to lay such golden yolks. We are pampered.

Marlow and Wes
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Village of La Morra. Province of Cuneo. State of Piemonte. In the far north west corner of Italy.

Home for the past week

This is the view from our room in the vineyards of la Morra. The village of la morra is perched on the hill in the distance about 300 meters away. A nice short walk.

Marlow picked a small bunch of grapes from the vine for our breakfast. They were hanging from the vine just outside our room. Last night, after we arrived at about 8:30 pm, we had a dinner including a shaving of a huge white truffle over a plain tagliatelle noodle. It arrived at the table on a scale and they weigh it before and after the shaving. The entire room was filled with the truffle scent. We had a couple of (half) bottles of wine made from the grapes grown in these hills.

Last year when we visited these same hills the vines were full of fruit hanging below. This year we are one week later and the weather has been cooler so the barbaresco grapes have been picked. But the Nebbiolo vines are being harvested this week.

Ciao ! Andiamo!

Wes and Marlow

Sunday, October 13, 2013 Los Angeles, California

Los Angeles, California

In preparation for our five week trip to Italy, France, England and Michigan, I packed weekly. Rehearsal packing. We will carry all our stuff onboard: one wheeled suitcase apiece and a second smaller bag, in my case, a viola. Will I use the viola? Who knows. Does Linus use his security blanket? No, but it has to always be there.

We and our bags made our way to the Tom Bradley International Terminal (T-Bit) at LAX. It has recently reopened after expansion and renovation. It is quite a production. After passing through security you enter a gleaming white atrium, four stories tall. An elevator column rises the full length from floor to ceiling. It's four sides consist of television screen material. On the screens, moving images, custom made, transform the elevator shaft into droplets of water that drip from ropes in slo-mo, a forty foot tall pile of teetering antique luggage. Then it is a bell tower with windows from which lively people wave pull aside the curtains and wave.

We are seated on a third floor terrace in the United Business Class Lounge. The elevator tower movies are amusing, but in another direction is a twenty five foot tall movie screen broken into irregular sized

rectangles. Playing on that kooky assemblage of screens is a twenty foot tall parrot flapping it's colorful plumage in slow motion, then a Flamenco dancer a-twirl in a red dress with arms akimbo, then a surfer riding a wave and keystone cops doing their old-timed jerky walk. Down below, on the main floor are the "coming soon" eateries. High end. Petrossian, Chaya, Border Grill. Bravo to the new terminal.

Time to go to the plane. We are excited to cross paths with the great maestro, Gustavo Dudamel. I noticed him, from behind, by his hair, that wavy shiny black parted in the middle mop. I am impressed by his humility, traveling alone, with no one to carry his bags or to drive him to the gate. He appears very approachable, though no one approaches.

And we are on the plane. In the nose. In row four. In huge laz-e-boy recliners. Pampered. And ready for the ten hours till touchdown in Frankfurt, where we'll hop a plane to Turin (Torino), where we'll drive a rented car to La Morra on a hilltop in The Langhe.

See you there.......

Marlow and Wes, on the road again.

Sunday, October 13, 2013
Los Angeles, California