And Pater enjoyed the best. frites. ever. Seriously good, good fries. Definitely potatoes this morning, perhaps just an hour ago! That omelette has the very thinly sliced ham (think proscuitto more than N. Am. ham) cooked into it whole, with cheese oozing inside -- and neither of us have ever imagined that so much air could be whipped into an omelette -- reminded me of zabaglione!
After the previous night's dinner, I'd been thinking maybe I'd go wine-free for, um, maybe a day or so. But somehow the sunshine, the crowd-watching, the leisure after the morning's TGV ride, all convinced me that a glass of rosé would be perfection (is such the road to perdition?)
And it was . . .