Early Friday evening and you know how it is: rough week, throw yourself onto unmade sofa bed and start swiping aimlessly on the ipad. You feel hungry but everything feels like too much effort – yes even those 10 steps to the kitchen. So whilst aimlessly swiping, you think I should just check my bank account to see how overdrawn or potentially not (ha!) with 4 days left before payday. As if by some stroke of magic there in big black letters is next month’s salary just in time for the weekend. You look out of the window and it is still light at 7pm and warm. There certainly won’t be many more Friday nights left like this. That was the situation I was in last Friday at 7pm. View Post
In an attempt to atone for the gluttony during my 3 weeks in Georgia, I made a reservation at a raw food restaurant in Paris. I thought that this must be an oxymoron – does raw food exist in the land of heavy cream sauces, quiche lorraine, potato dauphinoise? Apparently it does – French style -more of that later.
I’m back after 3 blissful weeks spent in Atlanta, Georgia. As the late, great Ray Charles sang “Georgia on my mind”. It is very much on my mind: the sunshine, dear dear friends, biscuits and gravy, sweet tea. View Post
Back in Paris and I was sick of the cold. The weather just couldn’t make up its mind whether it felt like snowing, torrential rain or the constant grey drizzle. Tonight it was just torrential rain with episodic hailstones thrown in for good measure. I decided that there was only one thing for it: choose a restaurant that makes me think of summer. I eat pizza in the summer preferably on a terrace with a nice cold glass of white wine in Italy. Where to find that in Paris. I knew exactly the place!
On a bitterly cold winter’s night what better way to warm the soul than to have a rib sticking meal in a neighbourhood brasserie in 14th arrondissement.
This is exactly what I did on my second foray of solo eating in Paris. From a swift read of the menu blackboard on the pavement, and I mean swift, it was -2 and snowing that night. I was enticed in by a modern take on a French brasserie. As I opened the door and pushed past the heavy red velvet curtains, providing a welcomed barrier to the harsh elements outside, I was greeted by a waitress whose smile lit up the room. I told her I wanted a table for one for dinner which didn’t seem to faze her. She gave me a choice of two tables. Neither table was hidden away and I chose one facing the rest of the restaurant.