I have a favorite little restaurant next door to our apartment, in which I took meals maybe half a dozen times. Sometimes I made small talk with the owner; sometimes I just took a book, read, and people-watched. Usually, I ordered the English breakfast (not a fan of white flour and sugar for petit dejeuner) but once for dinner I risked nachos, French-style. Really good. And some chocolate creation (though the worse for wear when I got it home) with whipped cream for dessert.
(Click photos to enlarge.)
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