I don’t have a favorite café in Europe. I have a favorite kitchen.
The best meals I ate in Paris— and later, south in the Languedoc— were the ones I prepared in our own kitchen, and ate at home.
I didn't plan it that way, and it's no criticism of French restaurants, but it was a revelation.
It started because of jet lag. My lover and I were hungry and awake when we arrived late in the city. We were staying at a friend's …
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