Friday, February 5, 2010
Not long after I moved to Paris in 2007 my dear dear friend Aralena proposed a lunch in one of those places that drips French-ness. The walls and the chairs and the lighting and the bar and the tiles on the floor and the menus are made of layers and layers of it. This little place is in le Marais on one of those streets where everything is so tight that you have to sort of press up against the stone walls of the buildings if a truck (or any vehicle larger than a Smart) passes by.
Marie and I walked in this week, misting from the rain, craving a big bowl of soup. That is exactly what we got. Some February perfection.
Go: Le Taxi Jaune | 13 Rue Chapon 75003 Paris