Since we are traveling this week, it goes without saying that there is No Cooking. In fact, please just assume that the only things I can guarantee are Real BBQ and Drinks.
I know that I still owe y’all piles of stories and snaps from Paris. In some ways, that trip is almost harder to unpack than Israel.
For now, just a fraction of the food. There were so many crepes I didn’t capture. Breakfast baguettes. Sandwiches. Cups of espresso. Freshly-canned tall Leffes. Basque Chicken. Steak frites. Moules et frites. Chicken Tikka Masala, Peshwari Naan and Samosas.
The first bit of feasting. Bleu Cheese. Country Ham.
More country ham in an omelet.
The odd bit of wine.
The pastries I picked up in-between train stops on our way back from packet pick-up. There’s a Florentine we neglected to photo. Mom, Sally and I were sure to make these disappear in less than 15 minutes.
Laduree @ Versailles.
I know we’re all hoping it was Steak Tartare. But it could have been fresh Secretariat sashimi. I downed it all.
Adventures on Rue Cler. It was vaguely nutritionally void, primarily composed of carbs and 11/10 wonderful.
Yes, the McDonald’s on the Champs Elysees sells macarons.
Some post-marathon crepe-feasting. This would be a few hours after I consumed a packet of salt straight.
A lunch date with myself at AMS.
Because that’s what adulthood is about.