Why I dream of Paris.

Real pizza… thin crust, cooked until it is crunchy, plenty of bold tomato sauce, and three perfect black olives.

There are no words for this hot chocolate. Except maybe heaven, just because God came up with heaven and I think he approves of hyperbole.

This was also taken at Café Angelina, and this represented maybe 10% of the desserts available.

This olive bar was set up, in open air, at a street marché. There were also crusty breads, artisan cheeses, and butchered meat available.

And this. This right here was the most delicious sandwich I have ever eaten in my entire life. It was called a “steak haché”, and it was essentially two hamburger patties cut in half inside a baguette with Emmental swiss, herbs, and maybe magic. I literally still dream about this sandwich.

Oh Paris… tu me manques.