Katrina and I had spent the morning wandering around Paris and a good chunk of the day traveling, so we were both pretty worn out and under the weather. That evening, we found a little restaurant a few blocks from our hotel and stared at the menu with zero appetite. I ordered onion soup to try to knock the chill off my bones and a plate of fries for sustenance. Our waiter scoffed and rolled his eyes at me.
"Fries do not go with soup," he said after he took Katrina's order. "Bread goes with soup."
He returned later with our soup and a basket of bread. No fries for me.
Katrina has hated beer as long as I've known her, so we were all (even the waiter!) pretty excited to find a beer she liked so much. It tasted like cherry kool-aid.
We stopped into a little shop within five minutes of leaving our hotel and made our selections. I got something that looked like a miniature pecan pie and then proceeded to drool all over the sidewalk as I ate it.
|This was the most amazing waffle I have ever had in my life (and my Grandpop made some pretty mean waffles). It was fresh and warm and smothered in bananas and nuts and fresh whipped cream. Amazing.|
photos of me taken by Katrina.