Indelible Memory: Lunch at Le Garet

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Salade Lyonnaise from <em>Le Garet</em>
Salade Lyonnaise from Le Garet - Photo by Hideaway Report editor

Meals at Le Garet are an unfailing pleasure, and each one is a little different. This small, dark, bric-a-brac-filled bouchon (traditional bistro) on a narrow side street in downtown Lyon is a place I first went as a college student with a friend. We were backpacking kids who spoke terrible French, but our welcome was as warm as the one bestowed on the prosperous businesspeople who made up a majority of the diners.

We were backpacking kids who spoke terrible French, but our welcome was as warm as the one bestowed on the prosperous businesspeople who made up a majority of the diners.

The waitress came to take our order and suggested we try “tablier de sapeur,” a dish neither of us had ever heard of and which we translated from a pocket dictionary into the incomprehensible “fireman’s apron.” What could it be? Anyhow, I decided to take a chance on the unknown specialty. When a large, thin square of something arrived, in an appealing crust of bread crumbs with some sauce ravigote (a sort of herby mayonnaise), it looked rather good, like a French version of Wiener schnitzel. It was very chewy, though, and even after eating half of it, I still hadn’t a clue as to what it might be. That’s when a slightly inebriated man from the large table next to us intervened. “Bravo, les Américains, bravo!” he said, congratulating us for we knew not what. Then another well-wined gent explained in English: “It’s tripe, and the name comes from the rubber-coated canvas aprons firemen in France used to wear.” Doubtless seeing my expression, he poured us generous glasses of the Armagnac he and his companion were drinking, and after a lot of chatter, we wandered off into the night in high spirits.

Quenelles de brochet from <em>Le Garet</em>
Quenelles de brochet from Le Garet - Photo by Hideaway Report editor

Eating in a bouchon, you see, is as much about conviviality as it is the food. These places are profoundly French, profoundly happy and innately communal. This doesn’t mean you can’t have a quiet meal on your own, but to do so is to miss the point. Which is how, on my recent visit, I ended up sharing my table with a chatty and very jolly priest. After a lunch of salade Lyonnaise (curly endive with croutons, chunks of bacon and a coddled egg), quenelles de brochet (fluffy pike dumplings in a crayfish sauce), cervelle de canut (a fresh creamy cheese seasoned with shallots, garlic, herbs and olive oil), and finally a scoop of cassis sorbet drowned in a generous pour of Marc de Bourgogne, the priest walked me to a cabstand and gestured at the church across the street. “If you ever have anything you need to confess, you know where to find me,” he said.

Le Garet
7 Rue du Garet. Tel. (33) 4-78-28-16-94

By Hideaway Report Editor Hideaway Report editors travel the world anonymously to give you the unvarnished truth about luxury hotels. Hotels have no idea who the editors are, so they are treated exactly as you might be.
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