P'tit Laurent

[madrobins]

This is a tiny corner bistro (or bistrot), about a block and a half from our house. Maybe fifteen tables, and the place is decorated in, well, French bistro. Including the tin ceilings and Pernod posters. When we got there, a co-worker of the Spouse's was sitting at the bar, finishing his dinner. He bought us a glass of wine (a nice sauvignon blanc) while we waited for our table. As near as I can tell, all the front-end employees are native French speakers (our waitress, a tall blonde woman with a killer smile, is from north of Paris) and the French, she is tossed around with great freedom. I had the soupe du jour (a leek, lentil, and chicken stock soup with chives and a bit of cream); the spouse had soupe a l'oignon, which he had never had before. And then: he had the cassoulet (which looked fabulous) and I had lapin façon de Normande, on a bed of purple mashed potatoes, and it was to die for. (I also got a glass of syrah to go with, and that was yummy too.) Finally, he had the tarte tatin and I had the pot de creme au chocolat. I may never eat again, but Gods, it was good.

And they gave us a bottle of wine as we were leaving. Cause it was our anniversary. Way to engender repeat custom and neighborhood loyalty! Neither our pocketbooks nor our waistlines can afford for us to go back too often, but every now and again, you bet. Certainly sometime before our 40th anniversary!