Unexpected guest

I had nothing to do that day. I didn’t want to waste it. I was sitting in my hotel room in Lyon going over what I felt I should be doing with my time off. It didn’t help matters that it was a Sunday, making my options even more limited.  I was thinking perhaps visiting some of the Roman ruins in Lyon. Taking a walk through the old part of town or across the mountain/hillside park that borders the city. The truth is you can do all of those things in one afternoon.

Still I could not complain I had had a very successful Saturday. That day I had achieved a long time goal and made it to Paul Bocuse for a meal. The goal was further enhanced by the fact that the man himself was in the house.  (Literally his house as he lives above his restaurant.)

It was a couple of years earlier that I first met Bocuse at a culinary event in Montreal. He could not have been nicer.  In many ways he was the one who started to turn my opinion about French food around. (He’s the reason any of us are here reading this.). After the meeting in Montreal I was curious about his restaurant.

I arrived and was not disappointed. I had heard grandiose descriptions of the place. If anything they were understated. The place was a tribute to all things Bocuse. And in the midst of this celebration was the subject. Bocuse in full chef attire approached the table and welcomed me. I thanked him and mentioned our previous meeting. He recalled the trip, but fairly certain he did not recall me in particular. It was at this point that Bocuse sat down at the table and ordered two glasses of champagne for us.

We talked for a while. Bocuse asked about my time in France and where I had eaten. I told him that this was my first trip to Lyon and I was looking forward to seeing what the city had to offer. We talked a little longer.  Eventually he gave me a tour of his immaculate kitchen.

After the tour he excused himself. He had to greet other customers. I thanked him for him his time and headed back to my table and enjoyed a wonderful lunch. I did not really get the chance to talk with him again.

After the meal I took some time to wander around and see place. The restaurant’s hostess offered to get me a cab. She asked at what hotel I was staying I told her and made the call. I had hoped to thank Bocuse again for his hospitality but was told that he had left and was not out hunting. That was too bad but never the less it had been a very successful day.

It had been so successful that perhaps that was one of the reasons I was feeling a little down. The day following a great successful day inevitably feels like a let down even though it maybe a very good day in it’s own right. That was how I was feeling. Not having any firm plans did not help matters.

I was still mulling over my options for the mediocre day that lay before me when the phone rang. It was the receptionist. Normally a very controlled and efficient woman now she seemed a little flummoxed as she spoke. I soon found out why. She said “Monsieur Paul Bocuse is waiting for you downstairs…”