It used to be that, in addition to writing over at Paris by Mouth, I would occasionally find time on a spare and calm Sunday to post something over here, too. Spare Sundays are now a thing of the past. Blame the food tours. We started offering them two months ago, and they’ve turned out [...]
I felt like a stalker last night at L’Ami Jean. I walked into this place carrying more back-story than should ever be brought to a restaurant. I knew of love affairs that had taken off because of chef Stéphane Jego’s cooking. I’d heard about marathon sessions in which the most serious eaters I know couldn’t finish everything that was served. I’d been checking the Facebook page, on which they post the daily changing menu, for several months. And I’d been writing about it for years without ever having been.
Virgins who wait too long before sex have a similar problem…
I treasure this little spot near the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, and come often for the selection of natural wines and simple food. It’s neither expensive nor ambitious nor crowded, and the welcome from Nafouel is always sweet.
… at least that’s what Cédric thought when I set down these two glasses. I shook my head no.
“Frappuccino?” He asked hopefully, although the sounds from the kitchen must have tipped him off to the true contents of that glass: fresh brown juice.
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