When she heard I was going to Scotland, Sui Mai told me that I must eat "haggis with neeps and tatties". The version I had at The Dores Inn was so delicious that I decided to go back a few nights later. The restaurant is located about 20 minutes drive away from Inverness, and features a short menu of unfussy and well-cooked dishes. It also backs onto Loch Ness and the view from the back of the restaurant is phenomenal.

Back to the haggis, this was meaty and deeply savoury, like concentrated fond from roasting mammoth dinosaur bones. I liked also that it was relatively free of distractions like oatmeal fillers or peppery spicing, just pure melt-in-the-mouth-gasm with every bite. Neeps are mashed turnips- a bit watery and bland despite the bright orange hue, tatties are mashed potatoes which I preferred, the velvet gravy lapping over them comfortingly.

The view from the back of the restaurant. Isn't it marvelous?

One morning we decided to drive out to explore the Cairngorms, which is Britain's most extensive mountain massif. It is dotted with tiny and very charming little villages with the most adorable names like Aviemore, Kingussie and Laggan. We visited a clan museum, then moved on to find lunch at the Mountain Cafe. Situated in Aviemore, an amenities-centre for the rugged holidaymaker, the food served in the cafe is wholesome and politically correct. No haggis or anything that twee, but my sweetcorn and zucchini fritters (more like a dense skillet cake than fritter) was rather too filling. What blew me away though, were generously thick chunks of hot smoked salmon tucked between; so much better than cold-smoked, hot-smoking rendered the yummy Scottish salmon even more smoky and voluptuous-tasting. After lunch, one could go shopping in the sports equipment shop below but not me. I am not the sporting type, besides the goods are so expensive and rather ugly.

After such a hearty lunch, it was time to visit the Highland Wildlife Park. A bit like doing a safari, visitors drive and walk around to observe exotic foreign species like wildcats, bisons, yaks and even wild boars. It was a fun outing for V, she had enjoyed seeing rare sheep and chickens in a rare-breed farm in Fort William the day before (image above) and this thrilled her even more. I think the animals found me exotic, the Chinese woman with big sunglasses and parasol. 

Literally next door, there is the Highland Folk Museum, straddling the two villages of Kingussie and Newtonmore. A sprawling complex of farmhouses and ye-olde churches, train-stations, schoolhouses etc, visitors can explore traditional Highland ways of life, and of course, take a ride in pre-war type buses. It was totally charming.

Clan life, wild life, Hebridean life. There is definitely more to the Scottish Highlands than castle ruins, whiskies and the Loch Ness monster. Darling, take me there again?

The days flew by quickly, and soon we had to leave for Glasgow. Instead of going by the A9, husband took the slower, older A82. We thought we would make Glasgow for lunch, but we didn't account for the meandering two-lane highway full of trucks and leisurely drivers. Couldn't blame them, the view of the waters of Loch Lomond and surrounding forest parks are gorgeous. By noon, and still in central lowlands rather than further south, we had to improvise. Thumbing through the Rough Guide and the road map, I told husband to stop at the next village of Tyndrum, where the Real Food Cafe is said to "serve fast food that is locally sourced and cooked to order".

The cafe sits on the side of the highway. No other buildings save a few houses on the other side of the road. Not even a convenience store or a petrol station in this neck of the woods. Hmm, how many buildings make a village? The carpark was full of trucks containing frozen fish boxes with Eastern European words. Not too local eh? Still, we had no back-up plan, who knows what was in the next town, so we decided to take our chances here.

Inside, it was quite spartan but warm and quietly buzzing. Lots of recyclable cups and blond wood à la Ikea. Families, farmers, mountain trekkers. We sat ourselves in a sunny corner while husband queued up to place our lunch orders. He came back with hot tea and scones for me. The scones did not contain white flour, but were still quite tender and light, there was jam but no butter. I was slowly getting the impression that mountainside establishments hold possibility of good unpretentious food (unlike, say, their competitors in town fooling around with lemongrass infusions and masala veal chops). A middle-age lady and another volunteer shepherded a gaggle of elderly residents out for their lunch outing. All the old ladies ordered fish and chips. The manager came out to take care of them personally.

Eventually, like 25 minutes later, our lunch came. Old ladies table got served first. Husband had ordered burgers for me. The burgers, handmade from good local beef it may be, was too dry and skinny with a cardboard texture; I would have preferred something more recognisably meaty. Still, the cheese was tasty, the bun nicely toasted and the salads properly fresh and crisp.

I munched half-heartedly and then took a bite of husband's fish and chips. Hmm, what is this? Crispy batter with very fresh-tasting fish inside. I couldn't believe it. We had been eating fish and chips at various locations the whole week, including a famous pub in the fishing village of Ullapool which had won awards for its beer-battered version; all had been huge disappointments- too greasy, too bland, too boring. The fish and chips at Real Food Cafe was absolutely fabulous. We were all over the plate, it was the best fish and chips I've ever tried. 

I was not the only fan. The boards near the restroom were covered with appreciative letters and approving reviews. The trucks were a red herring (haha); the fish do come from far away, from the Barents Sea north of Norway and Russia. It is good fish, cooked upon order, in a light but still crisp-crunchy batter coating, as it should be.  So there we had it, a most excellent fish and chips served not by the seaside but a roadside cafe in the middle of nowhere in Scotland.

Dores Inn Dores, Loch Ness, Inverness T: 01463 751203

Mountain Cafe 111 Grampian Rd, Aviemore T: 01479 812473

Real Food Cafe Tyndrum on the A82/A85. T: 08457 484950

The second part of our holiday happened in the Highlands, which accounts for most of the northern and western part of Scotland. It is a terribly romantic place. Relatively uninhabited, unindustrialised and quite remote (3 hours drive from Edinburgh), it is dominated by lochs and mountains. The waters in the region are very pure, they go towards making the national beverage that is Scotch whisky. The whisky from this area, in particular Speyside, have beautiful and long notes of floral, citrus and fruity aromas, mirroring the splendid countryside of its origins. 

Here I found the Scotland of my fervent imagination- brave warriors with flying ginger hair and distinctive plaids defend their beautiful lands against the bad, greedy-assed English invaders, in their castles their women are called lasses and their dogs westies, the land marked by exotic growths of heather, gorses and thistle flowers where grouse fly and dignified broad-antlered deers survey the magnificient lands. Aye, can you hear the wail of the bagpipes and the lilting harps? When you stand in the grounds of a long-ago deserted and much crumbled castle like Urquhart you most definitely can. They say it is more beautiful at night, when the tourists like us are gone and the former inhabitants return to their haunt. I don't know, I was plenty carried away myself that day. 

Back to the present, the café at the castle Urquhart was bang on trend with their cupcake selection. Here we had a cupcake with butterscotch frosting and toffee bits, particularly delicious eaten with force 10 winds howling in your hair and the coffee risking premature dilution with the perpetual Scottish rain overhead, all dead romantic really.

Speaking of another Scottish delicacy, we were much taken with Scottish marmalade, in particular that of our b&b. The Westbourne Guest House in Inverness is a 4-starred establishment because among other things, it provides tea-making facilities in the room, fan (no air-con), shirt-presser and shoe-shiner machine. We think. It can't be because the toiletries are supermarket brand,or because of the plain dormitory furnishings and a blown-up dishrack doing double-duty under the sink as bathroom shelves and basically lack of any natural stone, chintzy swags, swivelled mirrors or Grohe amenities. Their lounge has a common PC, every time someone opens the fridge in the adjoining kitchen the PC reboots itself, very Monty Python.

On the plus side, it was clean, the room was roomy enough for the three of us and they didn't complain when V left her bed all bloody one morning after having a nosebleed in her sleep. They did laundry too, i.e. I gave the landlady a bag of clothes and she ran it through her machines and returned them folded though not ironed, all for the rather reasonable price of 6 pounds.

Well, back to breakfast. Lots of choices in terms of cereals, yoghurts and fruits etc etc. Bacon, ham and haggis of ordinary quality which meant we stuck to toast for most of our stay. They use good grainy bread and the homemade marmalade was one of the most delicious we have ever tried. Terribly good stuff, packed with flavour and the texture was just right-thick yet spreadable, really much better than some award-winning marmalades we later brought home as souvenirs. The landlady also made sure we got two fingers of her home-made shortbread in our room every day. Two may sound a bit mean but these were outrageously rich biscuits, really buttery, flecked with tongue-tingling citrus peels (presumably from making the fabulous marmalade). Every evening when we returned from our excursions V and I take turns biting from the cookies and say to each other how good it was. Sometimes we couldn't finish them so we eat leftover chunks for breakfast.

Besides exploring castles, including Cawdow where the real Macbeth had ever stayed, there were other activities. Like visiting farms and picking strawberries. Rain had spoiled most of the crop, but V thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The better specimens were available for sale, and they were big, deeply red and tasted very sweet and vibrant like high summer. 

Just another view of the placid lakes. Until I read the little plaque at the side of the river which documented that this was a site of some bloody massacre in the great bloody past.

We took the old Jacobite steam train on the western side of the country. Run on coals and puffing white smoke as it chugs along the rugged mountain ranges, it thrilled all the train buffs in the carriages including a shy terrier lass sitting next to me. The seaside town where it ends, Mallaig, is small and touristy. I did well to have packed sandwiches from Tesco for our lunch on the pier.

The eating options in this area are not as great as in the larger towns. In Inverness itself there are a few cookie-cutter bistro types that didn't really appeal to me. A foray into the Indian restaurant scene was even more disastrous- the newly opened Jaipur actually offers a menu of different sauces poured on tandoori meats, it was the worst meal of our trip.

In terms of Chinese food, all we saw were takeaways, not exactly something I wanted to take back to our airless room (even if we got past the landlady). One evening we took a random turn into Academy St, off the city centre, and I spotted Gathering Place. It seemed like a mirage, there is nothing else of note along this drab street, but there it was, a sit-down restaurant that would not be out of place in Gerrard Street, London. The menu is predictable and their takeaway business was going on non-stop while we ate our dinner. The waiters are from Malaysia! The food was good and cooked with practised skill, we had a happy feed of fried rice, sambal kangkong and a prawn stir-fry. I reckoned this was the best Chinese option for miles around, heck I don't think there is any other Highland competitor, still, to do better, the waiter recommended going up to Aberdeen where they have the largest immigrant Chinese population in Scotland. 

In Part 2, we get acquainted with the truly Scottish food icons i.e. haggis, black puddings and the mythical Scottish salmon. 

Gathering Place 87 Academy St, Inverness T: 01463 713 244

Back in the early 90's, on holidays with university mates in the Lake District, we visited what used to be the poet Wordsworth's house. My friend Pernell went into the gift shop before we actually went into the house, meanwhile back in the car (we were waiting for a parking lot) my two other friends sniggered at her seemingly uncultured ways. God bless them all, but I think P was on to something. On this holiday, we found the shopping at museum shops utterly delightful. There was something for everyone: books, clothes, mugs, whisky shot glasses, fruit cakes, Royal Family-themed chinaware, plushies and tartans of course. My favourite find was a woolly cushion with Union Jack pattern, something I had wanted for a long time; it is meant for dogs but Mimi and Rufus don't have to know that. 

The eating possibilities were none too shabby either. Out of curiousity, well, actually, the endless rain was a major push factor, we looked in on the Café at the Palace, of the Palace of Holyroodhouse. After a grey morning of exploring the ruins of its abbey, and breathing in the intrigue surrounding this former residence of Queen Mary of Scots, we were more than ready for a warm pot of tea and some cakes. The Cafe operates like a canteen, customers line up and load their trays, pay at the counter, collect cutleries and serviettes and sit down to eat in the glass-enclosed atrium or, in good weather, the al-fresco area overlooking the Salisbury Crags.

The home-made cakes looked so tempting, I forced myself to choose only three types. After all, this was lunchtime, so we started with soups and sandwiches, all very fresh and tasty, much better than what I had expected for a museum cafe. Raisin scone was lovely and very correct, cakey and crumbly without any metallic aftertaste, served with proper clotted cream and good fruity jam (plastic tubs bring the tone down though). Lemon drizzle cake was uplifting, it had lemon sponge, lemon curd, lemon cream and lemon glaze, sweetness and tartness in equal measures. The Victorian sponge cake sat proudly at the cashier's corner, but it was the weakest of the trio, let down by a somewhat dry sponge and indifferent fillings.

The day before setting off for Inverness, husband collected his rental car. We drove a few kilometres to Southside. While the laundry went through its cycles in the laundromat, we snacked on Polish sausages (Edinburgh is home to a big immigrant Polish population), stocked up on crisps, Marmite,Tabasco sauce and gossip magazines, and explored the many charity shops in the area. After that, a vegetarian buffet lunch at Kalpna, followed by a need for dessert, so off we went to the affluent neighbourhood of Morningside for ice cream and cakes. S.Luca is a local institution. Upstairs it was hot and stuffy, and crowded with white, anglo-saxon teenagers, stroller mums and their offsprings. Teenage servers run the place in an unhurried, indeterminate manner,quite unaware of their waiting customers

Strawberries and ice cream for V, and toffee pudding with vanilla ice cream for us. It was sensational, the pudding: velvety and oozing lava-like craters of molten dark toffee, sweet but never too sweet, the cold cold creamy ice-cream in contrast, oolala what a delicious treat.

We left Edinburgh on a Saturday, but not before stopping by at its weekly market on the Edinburgh Castle terraces. A small collection of stalls selling premium meats, handmade oatcakes, unpasteurised cheeses, cold-pressed soaps, artisanal jams and the like. Keywords: rare, unusual, natural, preservative/hormone-free, organic, biodynamic, local, seasonal, fancy. One stall featured a whole roasted pig.

I bought a sandwich complete with stuffing, crackling and added apple sauce and bbq sauce. Yummy. Equally good was a bison burger in the background. I stocked up a half-dozen bottles of blaeberry juice for our road-trip.

The Crisp Hut serves freshly made potato crisps. Doesn't get better than this.

Salt and vinegar flavour. We sprinkled our own vinegar, and was cautioned that the vinegar would dampen the crisps slightly over time. No danger of that actually because we gobbled it all up within a few minutes.

Café at the Palace Palace of Holyroodhouse, Old Town T: 0131 652 3685 

S. Luca 16 Morningside Road, Southside. T: 0131 446 0233

I know, it has been ever such a long time since we updated this blog. It was summer's fault, this past glorious summer of many long and sunny days.

The projects were packed away to make room for simple amusements like puzzles and books. Mid-brow fiction was my daily vice; I got into the old habit of finishing a book every other day. And then there was the daily nap in the late afternoon, just before rousing reluctantly to make dinner, which inevitably featured tomatoes, and later on, peppers and eggplants. Amazon.UK (not the France one which majorly sucks) sent me emails at least three times a day about their amazing DVD and book deals and I inevitably succumbed, every week the gardienne brought up a package for V and I to gleefully rip into.

In the evenings, we sat on our tiny terrace and sipped icy cocktails while trying to catch a little breeze, looking at the parade of the people passing by the street below, mostly well-dressed families of middle-eastern holidaymakers making their way to one of the three Noura food outlets around the corner. Friends and my fourth sister dropped in occasionally, or we met for some ice cream outside. So all in, we had a very agreeable lazy time at home to really decompress.

The French like to ask, "Did you go away?" because they probably did and want to exchange stories about their wonderful vacation. Ours was lovely too, and when they heard we went to Scotland the jokes about whisky and bad weather came thick, fast and a little too often.

They're right though, about the weather. Over our two-week holiday it rained on all but two days. It being summer though, the rain usually came and went and we remained quite dry throughout. We started in Edinburgh, then drove up to the Highlands before heading back south to Glasgow. It was a leisurely trip, our modest aims every day was to sightsee a little and eat something really tasty along the way.

I told my mother about our vacation, summing it up as "We ate a lot of fatty foods like scones, cupcakes, butterscotch, haggis, black pudding, bacon etc" and she went, "Sounds delicious!" That's the gist of it, so if you want to know the details, here we go.

We tried to keep costs down by staying at bed-and-breakfast places. Only these days the B&B industry has upgraded themselves and they are knowns as guesthouses. They are, if at all, rated by the Scottish Tourist  Board, according to their facilities. We were to stay in 2 four-starred places, and 1 three-starred establishment. My criteria are more more straightforward. How is the bed? and How is the breakfast?

Our Edinburgh guesthouse, 23 Mayfield, scored well on both. Our bedroom was large and comfortable, with a double as well as sofabed for V, plus room for 2 armchairs, an armoire and a proper console with flatscreen TV. Fine, quality linens and solid wooden furniture. The bathroom, though small, has shower cabin and swanky Grohe finishing, so sophisticated I didn't know how to unplug the sink. The owners are very friendly and hospitable, the rather masculine common sitting room is furnished with buttonholed-leather sofas and a laptop for surfing.

Their breakfasts are award-winning. Everyone, including V, pre-orders the night before. The range is wide: tea, coffee, cereals, yoghurts, porridge, fruits and something cooked like traditional breakfast, kippers, pancakes or waffles. The Full Scottish selection includes the amazing Stornaway black pudding, decent haggis, meaty bacon, grilled and marinated tomato, sausages etc of which we choose up to six items. On the first day we tried almost everything, by the second day I had dropped to four and some days I had their pancakes with perfectly crisp bacon.

One morning husband ordered for himself the cheeseboard, it comes with oatcakes which is basically dense biscuits made of oats, delicious. V usually has either an egg or some ham, but always with marmite on toast which she took to liking.

The first thing we ate in Edinburgh was Indian Vegetarian in Southside. At 1.30 p.m. the chef at Ann Purna wanted to go home, so only buffet selection was available. Not much to choose from but food was really tasty, especially their subtle-spiced pakoras. Learning that buffet lunch is so good in Indian restaurants here, we tried another at Kalpna a few days later. Wider selection of dishes, delicious, healthy and inexpensive. We ate better at Indian places than Chinese, but for Asian food, Kampung Ah Lee, also along Southside, delivered the goods. Their Nonya fried chicken, nam-yee marinated pork belly and stirfried kangkung hit the spot for us, but don't order their satay which comes in huge pieces and were undergrilled. 

While shopping along Multrees Walk in New Town, we came across Valvona & Crolla VinCaffè. We stopped by for coffee and cakes. Their cupcakes were not too Italian but totally yummy. V ate the whole cake, not just the frosting. We ate a lot of cupcakes during our holiday, this was one of our favourites. Moist cakey crumb, creamy frosting that melts its fruity flavours onto the tongue (and not the icky buttercream type that doesn't soften no matter what). The banoffee pie was acceptable, but the cupcakes were better. I should also have tried a strawberry tart which looked so tantalising with their shiny jammy glaze. They sell books and some kitchen stuff too, I bought a book on housekeeping that is written by a man.

In Part 2, palace cafes and handmade crisps by the castle. Also lots of puddings and a whole roast pig.

Ann Purna 45, St Patrick's Square , Southside T: 0131 662 1807

Kalpna 2/3 St Patrick's Square, Southside T: 0131 667 9890

Kampung Ah Lee 28 Clerk Street, Southside T: 0131 662 9050

Valvona & Crolla Vincaffè 11 Multrees Walk, New Town T: 0131 557 0088

Our favourite Chinese restaurant of the moment is Le Bistro de Pekin. We have been eating there at least 2- 3 times a month, husband goes even more often because he likes to bring homesick work colleagues for a proper Chinese meal. Its location very near the Avenue Champs des Elysees and its 7/7 opening hours are nice factors too.

Despite its name, its specialty is Szechuan (or Sichuan) food because the chef hails from that region. The menu is wide, there is a fantastic selection of "small dishes" that changes often to reflect the traditional 23 flavours that typifies this cuisine. They also offer the usual set menus, including "nems" which I wouldn't advise because I doubt they eat nems in Sichuan.

I always order their hot and sour soup. It is neither starchy nor too one-dimensional. The peppery bite is just right, the sourness from good quality vinegar opens up the appetite and the ingredients are well balanced with finely sliced bamboo shoots and delicate egg "clouds" for contrast and texture. Husband loves their "liang-fen", the vinegary, garlicky sesame dressing is light and refreshing, also their "pidan tofu" which is presented correctly, i.e. with some knifework on the very fragile tofu to show the chef's expertise, with gratifyingly fresh and generously portioned century egg topping instead of the more common slick of chilli oil elsewhere.

From the main dishes of the menu, we love the "water-cooked beef" more than the fish version (the river fish still too fishy for my tastes), lots of beefy slices in that characteristic hot oil broth that is spicy and numbing yet so addictive. The menu includes atypical vegetable dishes such as stir-fried bittergourd as well as the standard tomato omelette and "fish-fragrant" aubergines. Last Sunday we tried their crispy beef, marinated beef covered in rice crackers and deepfried. It tasted more subtle than it appeared, the interest is in the rice-crispy texture, it is a dish to please children, for adults it works more as a respite from their other more assertively flavoured dishes. 

The cooking in general is refined. Some dishes work better than most- the "zhajiangmian" was beyond awful, at least to me, it seemed to be mostly bean paste sauce- but in general they are restrained in their usage of cooking oil, and the seasonings are well-judged so there isn't any muddying of flavours no matter how many dishes we order, and we usually order way too much. 

One standout dish was "pen pen xia" or shrimp hotpot as it is described more prosaically in the menu. Prawns in their shells are cooked in a stunning sauce-broth of sichuan peppercorns, chillies, bean paste and garlic (wild  guesses here). Sweetness, then gentle spiciness, followed by undulating savoury waves from fermented beans and aromatics, and as we continued eating, it gradually peaked with more and more spicy heat and that characteristic lip and palate-numbing high from sichuan peppercorns. Wow. Poking around the pot we discovered tranches of sweet potatoes, their sweetness assuaging the spicy assault. At the end of the meal, we could still taste some lingering notes of something medicinal not unlike Chinese herbal medicines, tingling gently in our mouths.

This dish is listed as #3 on their list of specialty dishes, I say forget #1 and #2 (the "water cooked" fish and beef respectively), go straight to #3. I wonder what #4 is though? 

Le Bistro de Pekin

38 rue de Ponthieu, 8th arr

T: 01 42 56 50 86

M: St Phillipe du Roule (line 9), Franklin Roosevelt (line 1).

Also, we will be away next week, so no blog posts for a while. Bonne vacances à tous!

We woke up in Orange to find beautiful sky and sunshine smiling on this part of southern Rhone. Instead of going to our winemaker appointment directly we looked for lavender fields in Sault, stopping at a farm to buy organic fruits and juices before finally arriving at their local market to buy lavender soaps and gorgeously dark and perfectly ripe cherries. There was even a truck selling raw milk on tap. Sun, warmth, lavender, cherries, dairy, could life get more beautiful in this part of France? Why yes, it could....

The drive to Château de Beaucastel took longer than we thought, actually we got hopelessly lost, and had to call the château to ask for directions, but we finally arrived, with just enough time for a quick tour of the vineyards and the facilities before being shown to their dining room.

We, as in we and our wine-connected friends Tony and Florence, had also been invited for lunch with Pierre Perrin. He is the fifth generation bearing this illustrious name yet in person he is modest, very approachable, and certainly very generous.

The menu for our "light" lunch (yep, including a 1970 vintage, sure we were squealing with excitement behind our polite facades!). Their personal chef, whom we also had the pleasure to meet and talk to, creates menus to pair the local and seasonal specialties with their own wines for optimum enjoyment. We were in for a real treat.

Before we started, there was a round of Aigo Bouido, a typical Provencal garlic soup.The name literally means boiled water, and it is made up of lots of chopped garlic, toast, olive oil and hot water. I think it is the secret why people in these parts are seldom ill, can one imagine anything more healthful and nutritious? It was very comforting and not too strong-tasting despite the copious amounts of garlic. V really enjoyed this soup and finished most of her bowl, including the tender garlic bits.

Saint Pierre fish with girolles and fresh rosemary was very delicate, the delicious girolles in camomile-scented almond milk provided a stunning contrast.

The roasted rack of baby lamb was deliriously good, the meat so tender hardly any chewing was required and the flavour was incredible, you can taste the warm and grassy spring with each bite. Even V wanted my share.

The wines were all, needless to say, totally amazing- complex and beautifully structured with longlasting finish, everything you'll expect in a great wine. 

Dessert was just three little heavenly bites of choux puffs piped with cream and sandwiched with strawberry slices, finished with that very elegant dessert wine of Beaumes de Venice. The conversation flowed as easily as the impressive wines, we talked about everything and nothing, but soon it was time to say goodbye. We thanked our host profusely and floated out of the château on a happy cloud, tipsy with good food, wine and the beautiful life in these parts.

Our first meal in Lyon was dinner in a bouchon which is their version of a bistro. Daniel et Denise was named the best bouchon of 2008 and on a Monday evening it was packed with enthusiastic customers. The menu reads like a cardiologist's nightmare: quenelles of brochet in deliciously rich lobster-bisquey Nantua sauce, cured legs of pork, whole veal kidneys cooked in their own fat, and my favourite, tripes lightly battered and roasted with loads of caramelised shallots. We barely finished half the tripes but I enjoyed every bite of the chewy yet tender tripes, their deep earthy meat flavours offset with some some sweetness from the shallots.

And the kicker? Every table gets the same side dish of sautéed potatoes, thinly sliced and very delicious, their edges golden and crispy. I won't be surprised if they had cooked it in duck or goose fat, in Lyon foie gras seem to be the local butter. At the food hall in Les Halles I would later find dozens of stalls selling the fatty liver in all forms, from the rustic Wellington-esque foie gras baked in pastry to chi-chi little canapés all ready for their turn at an elegant dinner party.

Dinner over, we made our way to the hotel. Our group, for we have been joined by my lovely friends Tony and Florence, will have some great food and wine adventures in the days ahead.

The wines of the Rhone region is a complete mystery to me. I had asked husband to limit our wine excursions to one a day, not wanting to traipse around yeasty-smelling cellars and getting too tipsy too early, so he and our friends had to prioritise their choices. First on the agenda was a drive to northern Rhone to the winemaker and wine distributor E. Guigal. Thanks to our friends' connections we were allowed entry, given a private tour and more importantly, a tasting of some very amazing wines, including one of their three "la la las" or La Turque, La Mouline, La Landonne. Silly me, I should have known that my friends would do things in greater style.

Then it was back to Lyon again for lunch. This time we went to a modern place. La Remanence is a cool and elegant white-tablecloth establishment in the heart of the old town. We passed a very civilised afternoon here over a beautiful lunch and a little bit more wine. Children get either fish or meat, served with gorgeous spring vegetables of artichoke hearts and green asparagus.

I had some more organ meats of course. Ever since I read Hard Times by Charles Dickens I have been fascinated with sweetbreads; one of the many among the not-likeable characters in the book, Mrs Sparsit, likes sweetbreads in brown sauce very much. If I see sweetbreads in a menu, I would likely order it. This was excellent although I found the sweetbread a little too large to be truly delicate. The mushrooms sitting on the bottom of the plate were pure deliciousness.

Later there were desserts, coffee and more treats in the form of delicious little caramels and financiers, but we were too satiated to notice. In the car on the way to Orange, we slept while husband and Tony up in the front drove and navigated their way into Provence. There was a detour to a pretty village and lovely sunny weather and puffy clouds in the sky.

Eventually, we reached Orange and their best lodging they have to offer, which turned out to be a motel run by Campanile. The motel was very clean and comfortable, and we were surprised to find ourselves hungry again, in time for dinner at Le Parvis. The menu is provencal, lots of olives and vegetables and less heavy on red meats and offal. My dinner of duck and a  fruit-based dessert was very good and relatively light. The service was rather cold, but that didn't matter, because down in Provence and all the places in Rhone we visited, people are very nice. Cars actually stop to let you cross the street, even when they saw you from afar. People do not walk into you as if you are invisible, and they smile a lot more. Is it because of the gorgeous weather, the beautiful produce, or their wines? I think it's all three, don't you?

In the next post, we discover the best of Southern Rhone.

Daniel et Denise
156 rue Créqui, 69003 Lyon
Tel: 04 78 60 66 53

La Remanence
31, rue du Bât d’Argent - 69001 Lyon
Tel: 04 72 00 08 08

Le Parvis
55 cours Pourtoules, 84100 Orange
Tel: 04 90 34 82 00