First Person

Where to find the best French food in the gastronomy capital of the world

26 May 2025 No Comments

 On a trip to Lyon, France, Christine Roberti frequents bustling cafes, samples gourmet desserts and French cheeses at a renowned food hall and enjoys multi-course lunches and dinners at a handful of Michelin-starred spots—only to find that the heart of Lyonnaise cuisine truly lies in the city’s homey bouchons.

In the fall of last year, I travelled to France for the first time. 

Fresh off the season four finale of Emily in Paris, the carryon I packed for my weeklong trip was crammed full of heels (nevermind the cobblestones), a lot of faux leather, and a Yves St. Laurent lipstick or three. But shopping in the country’s dreamy capital city wasn’t why I was going.

In fact, the closest I actually got to seeing Paris and living out my TV fantasy was munching on a pain au chocolat and ungraciously chugging a latte at 7 a.m. inside the Gare du Nord train station, while waiting for my connection to Lyon.

The third largest city in France, Lyon, capital of France’s Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region, is framed by the Rhône and Saône rivers and is home to UNESCO World Heritage designated Roman ruins that can be found all over its old city centre, along with breathtaking architecture at every turn. But Renaissance charms aside, the city also proclaims to be the “gastronomy capital of the world”, with more than 4,000 restaurants packed into its 48 km2 parameters—88 of which are included in the Michelin Guide, with five two-star and 13 one-star establishments. In fact, Lyon is home to the second largest number of Michelin-starred eateries in all of France, falling just behind Paris, with an outstanding count of 144.


The culinary journey begins

Getting to Lyon from Paris was easy—high-speed trains depart Gare du Nord frequently and the travel time is just under two hours.

On a mission to try some Lyonnaise specialties, like the famous tarte à la praline made with crushed pink pralines (you can only find it in Lyon) to saucisson de Lyon, a traditional sliced pork sausage made with pistachios, my first stop was Les Halles de Lyon Paul Bocuse, an indoor gourmet food hall that’s become one of the city’s largest tourist attractions for foodies seeking out the best in French cuisine. 

First opened in 1859, the original covered market came from humble beginnings, and was largely a space for trading fresh produce and staples like eggs and produce. A century later, the market was revitalized, and in 1971, given its current name, as tribute to one of Lyon’s most celebrated chefs, Paul Bocuse. Today, more than 60 specialty vendors hawk goods from their stalls to the roughly 10,000 visitors the food hall receives daily. Here, you’ll find everything from the finest line-caught seafood, to dainty desserts too pretty to eat, to whole refrigerated hens and hares—snow white feathers and furs still intact, a somewhat tragically beautiful way to validate the pedigree of the breed. 



Spoiled for choice, I quickly learned it’s impossible to go hungry in this city. The options are endless, and I’d be remiss to not visit at least one Michelin spot on my trip, given the abundance of star-worthy establishments. 

Michelin mania

A casual midday lunch at Le Grand Réfectoire unveiled elevated takes on Lyon staples, including a thinly-sliced and expertly plated version of Lyonnaise sausage with pistachios, served cold and topped with crunchy popcorn, pine nuts and creamy cheese. Next came an impressively stacked grilled eggplant atop a poppyseed-crusted slab of salmon, served on a buttery bed of crisp green beans layered in a Dijon mustard.

And finally, the dessert—the most delicate chouquette layered with Chantilly cream and crunchy caramelized peanuts—that disappeared in a mere two bites. Awarded a Michelin plate in the 2020 and 2021 Michelin Guide France, the menu, dreamed up by two-Michelin star chef Marcel Ravin of Blue Bay in Monte Carlo, hit all the right notes as far as a typical Michelin dining experience goes. 



Looking for local

But much like Ireland has its snug pubs, and Colombia has its lively bodegas, I had to find out—where do you go in Lyon if you just want good, old fashioned comfort food?

As it turned out, the answer lies all around the city. Bouchons, which first began appearing at the end of the 19th century, are traditional restaurants found only in Lyon. Decked out in checkered red-and-white cloths, the wooden tables are set close together, creating an atmosphere rich for conversing with your neighbour over a bottle of wine and a hearty, homecooked meal.

The food is always simple, but overwhelmingly culturally rich—housemade duck pâté, salad Lyonnaise, coq au vin and warm apple desserts are all staples. Warm lighting and a tight-knit interior add to the cozy factor, and it’s not uncommon for the chef to pop out and chat with the guests.


Bouchons, though rustic in their origins, take great pride in respecting culinary heritage, using the freshest, seasonal ingredients and local products, and abiding by homecooked meals that follow original recipes.

It’s this simple formula for success that fuels repeat business by locals and tourists alike.

In 2012, the Lyon Chamber of Commerce and Industry created a label exclusively for restaurants that identify as a “Bouchon Lyonnais” to place in their windows, alerting diners that an exceptionally authentic meal lies ahead. Consider it a friendly guarantee that inside, the dishes are always homemade and follow Lyonnaise cooking methods.

Because as with anything exceptionally authentic, everybody wants a piece—especially in the gastronomy capital of the world.

This story first appeared in the Spring 2025 issue of Culinary Travels Magazine. Click here to subscribe to the magazine. Click here to view the digital magazine. 

From bean to bar in Kaua’i

20 February 2025

Embodying the principle of Mālama ‘Āina, a Hawaiʻian  word that means to care for and honour the land for future generation, Lydgate Farms is a cacao farm run by Will Lydgate, whose family legacy on Kaua’i can be traced back across five generations. 

“My great-grandfather William arrived in 1865 with a dream to help build the future of the Hawaiian Kingdom,” he said. “[I’ve] dedicated myself to building a team that grows the best cacao the world has ever tasted.”

In addition to producing single-estate chocolate and treats like chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, Lydgate Farms also offers vanilla beans and small-batched palm blossom honey, alongside its highly successful chocolate tours. 

The farm has been recognized multiple times for producing some of the best chocolate in the world at international competitions, including its role representing the U.S. at the Cocoa of Excellence Awards held bi-annually in Paris, France.

On a mission to change the way people think about chocolate, tour guide Alexandra Webster said that many visitors who come to the farm don’t know that “cacao is an equatorial fruit — it only grows about 20° of the equator. That actually makes Hawai’i the only place in the continental U.S. that can commercially grow chocolate.”

Cacao is also a superfood that’s chock full of vitamins, trace minerals, and antioxidants.

Over the centuries, cacao and its variations, including drinking chocolate, was used to treat a multitude of ailments, from anemia, mental fatigue and tuberculosis, to fever, gout, kidney stones, and even poor sexual appetite. While most of the chocolate of today no longer has health benefits, top-of-the line fine chocolates do. “It only takes one ounce of quality chocolate a day to reap the benefits of heart health and brain health,” Webster said. “It’s shown to lower all-cause mortality.”

Based solely on the terroir of the farm, chocolate bars can elicit different flavour profiles from fruits to earthy tones. While there are only 14 original families of cacao, they cross-pollinate to create thousands of varietals and result in the various coloured pods that range from yellow to vibrant red.

“Chocolate that is fermented and is not confectionery — meaning it’s heavily diluted with milk and sugar — didn’t even exist until 1997,” Webster said. “People are just starting to learn about the art and the science that goes into making fine chocolate. Because Hawai’i is the only state where it can be commercially grown, we’re trying to transform Kaua’i into the Napa Valley of the chocolate world.”

To make sure people are purchasing quality chocolate, Webster suggests selecting chocolate that advertises a percentage of 70 or higher. “If there isn’t a percentage listed anywhere on the bar, that’s a red flag. That means they don’t want you to know,” she said. “It should be a selling point on the package.” 

Ethically speaking, customers can also look for words like “organic”, “bean-to-bar”, “fair trade”, “ethically-sourced”, or “Rainforest Alliance” on the labels. “I encourage you to look up what that means — what hoops companies have to jump through to put that label on their packaging.” 

At US$18 a pop, a chocolate bar from Lydgate Farms comes with a heftier price tag than your typical store-bought Cadbury bar. But when you consider the process involved, it should be a lot steeper. 

After planting a seed, cacao trees bear mature fruit in approximately five years. Only then will cocoa blossoms start to bloom and then be pollinated by tiny midges. From there, it takes between six and eight months for maturation, with cacao trees living anywhere from 50 to 100 years. When it’s all said and done, the journey from bean to bar takes six to seven years.

“Chocolate has more intricacies, more terroir, and more flavour markers than wine,” Webster concluded. 



The curry noodle soup from Northern Thailand you have to try once

3 October 2024

The first time I tried khao soi, I was living in Toronto.

Stuffed up with a cold on the couch, all I wanted was a hot soup; a tried-and-true remedy to clear my sinuses and soothe my sore throat. And after mindlessly scrolling UberEats, I decided against getting one ordered in the middle of winter; the lukewarm version they serve in styrofoam is never as good as the real thing, anyways. I remembered the Thai spot down the street had a few good options on the menu.

I walked in with the intent of getting my regular; tom yum hot and sour soup, made with a broth simmered with split stalks of earthy lemongrass and nasal-opening chillis.

“Have you been here before?” my waitress asked. “All the time,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie. “I’ve had almost everything, but today I want some kind of soup,” I said, scanning the menu to see if anything new had been added.

“Oh the khao soi is my favourite,” my waitress replied. “So good!”

Confused, I checked the menu again and found the dish, looped into the noodle section. “This one’s a soup?” I asked, inspecting the ingredients a little more closely. After confirming it fit the bill for what I was in for that day, I placed the order. 

The khao soi arrived in a giant black bowl, with two bamboo chopsticks submerged in its contents. The first thing that struck me was the overpowering, aromatic smell. The second thing was the colour. A thick, creamy, yellow curry broth lapped at the sides of the bowl, where a heap of fresh, hand-pulled egg noodles were buried in the middle. Pieces of finely chopped green onion, chopped lemongrass stalks, thin red onion and coriander danced by. And then there were the shrimp, perfectly pink, and a stack of crispy fried noodles for some added crunch. A plump lime wedge finished off the dish.

Slurping happily, this was the first of many bowls to come. 

When I found myself in Thailand earlier this year, I knew what had to be done. For the first four days of my eight-day trip, I scrutinized every lunch and dinner menu (that’s 16 meals, in case you were wondering) but to no avail—red, yellow and green curries and pad Thai dominated the pages, but khao soi just didn’t seem to exist.

Finally, I caved, and asked my tour guide, Puy, if it was just another made up dish for North Americans.

“Khao soi is really hard to find until you go north,” she explained with a laugh.

My eight-day adventure with group tour operator G Adventures included a few nights in the northern city of Chiang Mai, which I found out is actually the birthplace of the notorious curry noodle soup. Known for providing travellers with authentic community experiences at a local level, my time with G Adventures included a cooking class where I found out I was making—you guessed it—khao soi. 

Hair and apron tied, I got to work, first grinding garlic, ginger and shallots using a mortar and pestle to make the base of the curry. I scraped my mixture into a sizzling wok, then added a splash of coconut milk followed by coconut cream and chunks of tilapia fish. Once the protein was thoroughly cooked, the piping hot soup base was poured over a bowl of soft egg noodles, and topped with crispy noodles.

Thai dishes are among my favourites, but until now, I’d never attempted one. But for a dish with such complex flavours, I was surprised at how simple it was to replicate and how easy it all came together.

This story first appeared in the Fall 2024 issue of Culinary Travels. Click here to subscribe to the print issue.