It's Me, Sara Louise

Eventually the boys returned home, spiffied up, and we met up with Honey Jr and Honey’s Honey and kicked off the New Year’s Eve celebration.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I was surprised to see that the tables had been put together into a large connecting banquet table that spread about the room in a ‘U’ shape. Not what I was expecting, but fine, the 70+ people were sharing an experience, we might as well dine family style as well.

The evening was costing €67/$92 per person. I know that €67 isn’t a huge amount for a night out in Paris or Nice, but in The LPV, for €67, I expect to be dazzled so imagine my surprise when I saw that the apéro table consisted of plastic bowls of nuts, some bits pieces of toast, a couple of types of tapenades and olives. For drinks, there were a few bottles of whisky, juice and Perrier put out… and the worst offence… boxed Rosé.

Here’s the thing about boxed wine in France, it can be good, it can be very good, I myself am a huge fan of it and always have one on the go in my house. But on New Year’s Eve, when I’m paying €67, I don’t want to see boxed wine, let alone bad boxed wine. In a country like France where good wine is inexpensive, bad boxed wine is a crime and this was bad boxed wine, so bad, that Mrs.London and I mixed our Rosé with Perrier to turn it into a spritzer.

I decided to stay positive though and said that surely the boxed Rosé was only for l’apéro, nice bottles would definitely come out for dinner. I was wrong.

It was about 10:30 when we were finally instructed to find a seat at the big table (after two hours of milling about without even music to entertain us). Baskets of bread came out along with white wine… white wine that like the Rosé was presented in small, non-labeled, bottles… more boxed wine.

The white wine was to accompany the smoked salmon, which was pretty good, and the homemade fois gras, which wasn’t. Gregory said that the fois gras was one of the most disgusting things he has ever eaten. This is coming from someone who will eat just about anything and has a high threshold for ‘disgusting’. If Gregory says it’s disgusting, it’s disgusting.

Since we weren’t really eating, and there was a L O N G lull until the main course, we found other ways to occupy our time. We played with babies, made moustaches with feathers, and decorated our faces with tabletop beads.

But even though the food, wine and ambiance were all terrible, at least we rang in the New Year surrounded by loved ones (Gregory, Honey Jr, Honey’s Honey, The Croupier, Mr. & Mrs.London… you know, my loved ones) and when it comes down to it, that’s all that matters. (Although a decent glass of wine wouldn’t have gone amiss).