Lyon on Christmas Night
I’ve been playing hooky.
Jumping the Puddle, I recently struck out on my ugliest streak of gluttony to date. In fourteen days I pocketed 30 Michelin stars, cleared well over a hundred plates of food, consumed enough cheese to keep half of France employed, and sampled so many macarons that the doorman at Laduree recognizes me.
Folks, if there ever were a time to cannibalize u.e., this would be it. My skin glistens with a patina of pork fat, my liver is slightly enlarged, and I am completely infused with foie gras and perfumed with white truffle. If you tap my veins, they promise a steady flow of buttercream.
I split my time between The U.K. and France, with roughly a week in each. In alphabetic order, here is where I ate (I will update the list and add hyperlinks to each restaurant’s review as I post them):
l’Ambassade de l’Ile (London, U.K.)
l’Ambroisie (Paris, France)
l’Arpege (Paris, France)
Bristol, Le (Paris, France)
Cinq, Le (Paris, France)
Fat Duck, The (Bray, U.K.)
Fromagerie, La (London, U.K.)
Golden Hind, The (London, U.K.)
Gordon Ramsay at Royal Hospital Road (London, U.K.)
Guy Savoy (Paris, France)
Hibiscus (London, U.K.)
Ledoyen (Paris, France)
Michel Rostang (Paris, France)
Paul Bocuse (Pont de Collonges, France)
Petrelle, Le (Paris, France)
River Café, The (London, U.K.)
Sportsman, The (Seasalter, U.K.)
St. John (London, U.K.)
St. John Bread & Wine (London, U.K.)
Of course, u.e.’s exchequer is not too happy about all of this. So, for the next month or so, I will endeavor a thorough artery scrub by downing oatmeal and spinach while I blog about these meals. Stay tuned. As always, please be patient. After all, u.e. is a working man, and he must replenish his coffers.
