A Little Bit of the Left Bank.

Like any large North American city, Vancouver has its share of French restaurants. One of the most authentic is the little Salade de Fruits at the Vancouver Francophone Centre. Invariably crowded, tables squashed slightly too closely together, the menu on a chalkboard, bits of Gallic ephemera scattered around, it feels like the real thing. You can speak French or English, whichever you want. 

Yesterday, two of us had big omelettes stuffed with tomatoes and Brie, cooked baveuse. Little pots of mayonnaise came with the huge mounds of frites served on the side. Salade was the other option but not one we seriously considered. 

Meanwhile, back in the Land of the Pumpkin Pie Latte

Being back in Vancouver makes me look at life here with new eyes. Why do bakeries insist on inserting baguettes in plastic or paper bags? Why, apart from Asian shops, is the choice of fish so limited? And above all, why do so many people walk around with cardboard coffee cups in their hands? Isn't a coffee something you take a sociable 15 minutes or so to sit and enjoy? Also I don't care if it is Thanksgiving weekend, the notion of a pumpkin pie latte makes my eyes cross. Right, mini-rant over.

But even though we're a long, long way from France, we're surprisingly close to things French. Within ten minutes' walk, are these two authentic bistros (with the prix fixe at Bistrot Bistro displaying a hint of Asian influence).