It was our last night in Paris—and half the reason I was there wasn’t for the fashion; it was for the food. After exploring for more than nine hours in a foreign city, we felt compelled to have anything less than an adventurous dinner.
I was impressed by two things in Paris (outside of architecture). One – there were no extraordinarily heavy people in site. It was like I’d walked into an American fifties newsreel and all these slim people were hurrying about with tailored suits and lovely outfits. The second — we didn’t find any bad food. Even in the touristy spot in the Rue Cler that obviously pandered to the bland, Western diets of club sandwiches and fries—nothing looked oversized, under flavored, or unpalatable.