A very interesting article and thought provoking. Many years ago I booked a weekend in Paris with a friend who subsequently couldn’t go due to illness. My mother came instead and in the dead of night we arrived at a back street hotel just the two of us. It was a bit like a scene from The Third Man Hungry after lots of travelling, I asked the staff where we should eat and they directed us to a tiny spit and sawdust joint around the corner. My mother’s face was a picture…. I could see trouble coming but the food there turned out to be excellent in a rustic sort of way. I remember we marvelled at the pate on it’s own let alone all the other courses that followed. After that we did the usual touristy things and the sun was shining and the cherry trees blooming… but I don’t remember anything about eating after that first night.

Cid