Oh happy day, the closing was on Friday! Dave's dad had just returned from Florida and was kind enough to fulfill his power of attorney for us. I imagined him rolling up to the title company in his Porsche (or worse, the viper), stolling in with his tan and English accent, intimidating the new owners. They were probably wondering why they were buying a house from one of the Rolling Stones.
We decided to celebrate with a dinner out in Paris. Oddly enough, we hadn't really had a dinner in Paris together yet. I flipped through our copy of The Food Lover's Guide to Paris, on loan from Terry's (see also: next week) sister, found a restaurant that cost less than 20 euros each, and we took the metro into the city.
Lescure is located near the Place de la Concorde, and everything you would expect to find in a cute French restaurant. It was at the end of a dark, quiet street, and smaller than our apartment. When we squeezed in the door, the first thing the waiter did was wisk our jackets away, I guess to conserve space. Then we were directed to the non-smoking section, which was just a small nook with a 12-person table in it. We sat with 6 Japanese girls and wound up translating for them for the waiter. By "translating" I mean they showed us what they wanted to say in French in a book and we said it.
We both had duck and crème brûlée and shared an entire bottle of wine when Dave ordered the "house wine" and expected a glass. I had a glass, he had the rest.
Afterward we walked around the area for a little while before heading home full, slightly buzzed, and happy.
We decided to celebrate with a dinner out in Paris. Oddly enough, we hadn't really had a dinner in Paris together yet. I flipped through our copy of The Food Lover's Guide to Paris, on loan from Terry's (see also: next week) sister, found a restaurant that cost less than 20 euros each, and we took the metro into the city.
Lescure is located near the Place de la Concorde, and everything you would expect to find in a cute French restaurant. It was at the end of a dark, quiet street, and smaller than our apartment. When we squeezed in the door, the first thing the waiter did was wisk our jackets away, I guess to conserve space. Then we were directed to the non-smoking section, which was just a small nook with a 12-person table in it. We sat with 6 Japanese girls and wound up translating for them for the waiter. By "translating" I mean they showed us what they wanted to say in French in a book and we said it.
We both had duck and crème brûlée and shared an entire bottle of wine when Dave ordered the "house wine" and expected a glass. I had a glass, he had the rest.
Afterward we walked around the area for a little while before heading home full, slightly buzzed, and happy.
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