Sunday lunch, on the terrible day after the events in Paris, it seemed appropriate to discover a French cafe in my neighbourhood, and perhaps in a misguided way to show support. With a name like Buster Brown, who knew? But they had a nice little chalkboard that clearly said it was a French bistro, and more than that, it was nice to hear that the majority of staff were French, though I didn’t feel up to chattering with our waiter (who had a fantastic accent) about what had happened.
I had a salad niçoise, as above – colourful and fresh with a tasty piece of poached salmon on it – and my pal had a chicken and leek pie, all done up in filo pastry, looking like a giant version of a Thai deep-fried money bag. We found the food pleasing, also washed down with a glass of wine, and the courtyard out back was pleasant enough. Vive la France!