I had a premonition that to buy wine in Lyon, France would be a different experience. And I wasn’t let down. When exiting the Internet café in the endeavour of finding a good bottle of red, I knew there would be a wine shop directly on my left. I had a vague notion of the store window after having passed it several times. Now, however, when entering the store, I realized that wine is considered serious business in this country of culinary art.
The entire store was furnished very much like you would imagine the inner depths of an old 18th century sailing ship, with caskets and compact wooden shelves, stacked with wine bottles. The difference was that this room, for the store was comprised in but a single room, had high walls which had been used to maximum effect. In this setting, with the afternoon sun shining in between plants lining the store window, I let my eyes feast on the reflections of red, white and yellowish hues from bottles all around me.
The complete stun was when my eyes glanced over to the shop keeper. Here we have a wine store, picked from tales of wonder, and the person in charge is a man with black trousers, a white shirt (buttoned all the way up, mind you), also wearing a slim, black vest. Voíla!

I consulted the man, this is the appropriate word, because they are really trained in the art of wines and to neglect that fact is a sin in France, as to what wine I should acquire for dinner of Moussaka.
‘Ehm.’ he answered with a deep frown, only give me the shortest glances, while letting his alert eyes fixate on a shelf with bottles here, and a casket of bottles there. I’m sure that you can picture it. At such an encounter, you’re right to be amazed. I thought I’d just pop in, buy myself a bottle of red, and trail my way back home to the awaiting kitchen. Oh no.
My calm guide walked over to a small table (with wine bottles, yeah), looked me straight in the eyes and remarked
‘You will cook Moussaka. With meat, no?’
‘With meat, yeah’
‘Then, something spicy. I recommend… ‘ and he pulled up a bottle, presenting the etiquette to me.
‘Anjou’. Now, I don’t want to be a pest here, but that was exactly the same wine that the girl whom I was to cook for, had earlier suggested. I became suspicious.
‘Are you sure?’
I would pay money to see the face he made at me. A few short syllables in French, then a few well picked words
‘The spicyness is good. It works with meat. For Moussaka, yes.’
You simply don’t argue with the master.
As I fumbled at the backpack hanging carelessly from my shoulder, I was sure that never before had I experienced such a full and rich purchase of one bottle of wine. With a smile, a humble “Merci beaucoup”, I felt the bottle, weighed it in my hands, looked at the etiquette, understood I was a jerk since I didn’t know what to look for, glanced up into his kind appearance (standing erect and with his hands hanging limp by his sides) and recoiled from my dumbfoundness. “Merci beaucoup”.
The friendliness this man showed me, the pure interest in the choice of wine for my endeavours, was really something else. I recommend everyone to go through it at least once.
The wine? Oh it tasted great with Moussaka, though I have no idea which adjectives to describe the wine with. I leave that to the shop keeper, though I really sipped the wine in respect, seeing those crates and shelves with my inner eyes.

Blogger: P-C Markovski.
This blog article was published with the permission of the author.
Recommendations for travellers to Lyon
Strawl along the river in Lyon during summer and enjoy the beautiful view of the city from along the shore.

You might want to read..

1. The Wine Lover’s Guide to Camping in France What could be better than relaxing in the peace and quiet of the French countryside, watching the sun go...

Comments?