one in Emilion

I dined and dashed yesterday.  It was a strange experience for someone who is typically physically uncomfortable with leaving less than a 20% tip. (Yes; if you see me ill outside of a KFC, it’s because I couldn’t tip.  No follow up questions, please.)  In my defense, it was less dash and more saunter, but let me backtrack: I had ordered oysters and a glass of wine, which took half an hour to arrive.  I didn’t mind it because it was a lazy afternoon, and one is supposed to enjoy a slower pace of life over here, one hears, and one was also catching up on writing and email correspondence (not to mention studying up on how to refer to oneself in the third person). Read More