I learned two very important lessons this weekend. I learned the hard way that one should never assume anything and that on a more minor scale, one should always seek information from others, because one (and this one in particular) is not always the cleverest bean in the pot.
Yes. I now have yet another place to satisfy my Gruyère cheeseburger fix, washed down by an A&W root beer float.
Happy days!
There’s something to be said about the beautiful people in Paris. And that is that I am definitely not one of them. Not only am I about three feet too short, after two days of drip-feeding myself with macarons, chocolates, croissants, crepes and er, anything else I could get my mitts on, my face is suddenly an oil slick and hello, I have three new pimples to call my own.
Not to mention the bloatedness.
How do French women stay so thin and beautiful? Does anyone know? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?!
[echo]
Anyhoos. Paris.
Raspberry and ivoire chocolate usugiri, served in a rose vanilla custard.
Roka Restaurant, London. Quickly becoming one of my favourites.