Le Clocher de Montmartre in the 18th is an easy hop, skip and electric Montmartrobus from our flat and Colette wanted a place nearby, so voila.
Our two food-fiend-friends from Manhattan/DC shared some smoked salmon cubes with crackeresque things and Colette and I shared what were called "nuggets" [sic] of pork but were in my estimation, round croquettes of what I thought were pigs' feet but our wonderful waiter assured me originated from the upper end of said piggie.
Then our friends had the Nicoise and shrimp salads which they finished every morsel of, while Colette and I struggled to eat even 20% of our chicken breast with mushroom and cheese sauce and pasta as well as a "snacking" portion of entrecote with a fine salad and fries (the rest of the chicken tonight with some cranberries we hustled over, will be our homage to Thanksgiving and especially Art Buchwald's artful rendering of the event.
For a finale, our East Coast friends shared the restaurant's famed Paris-Brest (which deserves its fame) and Colette and I shared a lemon tarte of a sort.
Our bill, with no bottled water, a bottle and 2 glasses of wine and very fine bread and butter was 73.25 E a couple.
