Stuff I ate in Paris

There is a mosquito bite on my leg. 

It's midnight and only just gone dark.

 Below the lane way is full of carousing

 carousers and urine, both wafting upward. 

My leg hurts, it could be gout.

 Not too surprising.

I love all the five major C groups:

 Champagne, Chocolate, Cheese, Coffee, Croissants.

 The local market is cheese heaven

 and French law says each district
 has to have at least one

 patisserie open every day of the year.

Angelina Cafe is the stuff of legends. 

This one in the Rue Rivoli,

 smack in the middle of tourist central 

and pumping full. Only a ten minute

 wait till chocolate heaven.

A good hot chocolate is 

when the spoon stands up in

 the cup. The pot is deep

 and there is extra whipped cream
 for the gout free.

 At least 40 minutes recovery time

 is needed

 and best not the use of heavy machinery after.

 

All images above nicked from Angelina cafe

They were right.

By now we are used to indifferent, crap service.

 Wait staff don't get tipped, 

and Parisians love to bitch about them.

 It's not a healthy relationship. 

The belle Epoch interior makes up

 for any service shortcomings.

Amorino isn't helping. 

Gelato should be spelled with a "c", 

then it would be the six major food groups.

 You get good gelato, OK Gelato and superb.

Amorino is far too close to our apartment.

Bullion Racine has delicious gizzard free set menu and gorgeous decor.

Then there are the gizzards.

Pushed into ordering a main course

 for the privilege of a seated sanctuary, 

and a snotty waiter hovering overhead, 

I rushed my choice.

 Nice, a salad with little bits of pate fois gras.

What followed was a dish of slimy gizzard

 on wilted iceberg lettuce that looked 

as uncomfortable about the proximity

 of gizzard as I was.

 I forgot the "frais" bit. 

Fresh. Fresh gizzard. 

I could not lean far enough back. 

Luckily the tables are so close together a fall was impossible.

I hoped for the nearest dog.

Don's roast chicken was unfathomable - 

is David Lynch in the kitchen?

The thing about my beloved

is he is slow to anger, but once there

he will slice, dice and serve it up.

Here is his review on trip advisor:

not showing you the gizzards...think pretty thoughts.. pretty thoughts.

"If bland and shrivelled up food is your cup of tea then you will love this place. Had the chicken (something) that was the fattiest piece of meat ever tasted. Mashed potatoes with lumps and (perhaps) packet gravy. I did see a dog run past with some old bone in its mouth and I was jealous."

Like any new place after two weeks

 the rose colored glasses have switched

 to a more realistic shade of Camembert yellow.

Tomorrow I am off to Bordeaux Country

 for 6 days with Julie Arkell, and food cooked fresh.

 Meanwhile I leave you this week's

 new word. It fills pretty much any use required, covering exclamation,  surprise, frustration,
 envy or sympathy.
As versatile as our great Anglo Saxon "f" word.

Je propose, " putain'.