A little Balthazar never hurt anyone…..
Because we all survived this long election season, I thought it would be a good time to enjoy some moments at my favorite haunts around the world.
My home is in the South and always will be, but when you get hundreds of miles away from home, you want a neighborhood cafe.
Balthazar is just one of those places, a true French bistro, right off Broadway in the heart of SoHo. You walk in the door and instantly feel like you have entered Paris, the one you see in movies. You hear the clatter of dishes and voices raised in conversation, and smell the fresh bread. The busy servers are decked in formal black-and-white attire, constantly in motion like bees in a hive.
T and I walked in without reservations and were surprised to be seated quickly. A tiny table for two worked out just fine for us.
We received our menus, ordered coffee for two, and had our water glasses filled. With quick glance at the menu, and warm bread brought to the table, a memorable brunch was on its way.
Check out tomorrow’s post and see how this meal turns out!
Question of the day:
What does Balthazar mean?