Starbucks in Paris

One thing I remember most about Paris was the great coffee. S always chuckles when she describes my reaction to that first sip. In honor of that memory is this,

You know, Starbucks made sense when the only coffee you could get was at the local diner, where the brew percolated hours ago and sat on a burner for hours. Hell, in English-speaking countries we don’t even have our own words for good coffee, so we have to use Italian. That’s why Starbucks was not such a bad thing. But Starbucks in Paris? Why would anyone order a grande-latte-no-foam when they can order un café au lait en bol?

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