It's no secret that I love France more deeply than just about anything else in this world, and in fact, my love of all things French probably borders on obsession (or as I like to think of it "patriotism").
Perhaps it was the fresh produce propped up in the front window, or the red chairs and wooden bench tops, or maybe even the pita bread pockets being served to those surrounding me with grumbling tummies... whatever it was, I was instantly transported back to Paris, and in particular, a little joint in the Marais called Miznon (see here).
I may not be able to afford to jump on a plane back to Paris very often, but when in need of a little French pick-me up, this is where I go. Now to just get the staff to speak French to me....
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