We won! And thank goodness, because the only thing that could salvage the horrendous faux pas of scheduling a dinner during a France World Cup game would be the guys pulling out the requisite win. And not just winning the game, but scoring the two points needed to advance to the next round. Jubilation! R tipped the waiter to give us updates, and the food took a little longer because the game was on in the kitchen as well. I breathed a sigh of relief when the Bouillabaisse was pronounced “good”. It always takes some chutzpah to invite someone out to taste their own native cuisine. Of course, the flip-side is that NAM is now ruined for the N orth AM erican version (our guests were shocked and appalled to hear that it often contains shell-fish, which is just wrong). As for me, I’m almost satisfied just munching on those fantastic croutes and aioli. Le Dôme, btw, is great. Go there when you’re here. Roger and out.
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