Street food is my favourite thing to eat almost all the time. If food is salty, fried, spicy, pickled, if it’s handed to me wrapped in paper by some guy I just saw cook it, and I can dispense with forks and plates and cram it in my mouth, I’m ON IT like white on rice. Falafel – which arguably is older than the New Testament – is a perfect food. Done right, it’s a glimpse at the ineffable. It’s a pleasure loop. Continue reading
I have to confess a sentimental attachment to this little restaurant. I came here for the first time two years ago with my beloved friends, Jason and Andrew, with whom I was renting a flat in the Marais for five delirious days of eating, drinking, and shopping. I remember very few specifics about that meal other than the time of day (late afternoon), the champagne cocktails (lovely) and the seared foie gras on olive oil mashed potatoes. Continue reading
Susan eats London 