On Neighbours, Dogs and Pâtés

By the time you read this I must be somewhere in Europe. I should worry about winter, but local weather decided to play with us and changed drastically. It’s the first time ever we see such thing: a cold mid November!

Well, my European program is not totally worry free. I worry, for instance, about food. I am all good intentions, but, as soon as I arrive, my food routines are upside down.

I am suspicious about European food. Paul says the food chain is a mess. You can never be sure of what you eat, even when you pay a lot to be sure. I know that from experience. I was invited to an extremely good restaurant, the kind attracting people from various countries. Food was really exquisite. Service was superb. The next day I was extremely sick.

I also remember a story involving another extraordinary restaurant, whose owner was not only a charismatic chef but also a friendly man who used to feed his neighbour’s dog with the restaurant leftovers. The dog died too soon. The owner, in grief, accused the chef of killing his dog with pâtés and fillet mignon. Friendship was over.

All that is making me wonder what shall I eat over the next couple of weeks? The answer is shrouded in mystery.

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