Fact is I had a lot of good meals there with some good fuzzy memories to boot. The barflys who'd gather mid-afternoon to burn smokes and drink cheap beaujolais were legit, just as legit as the surly and accented waitstaff, equal opportunity haters all. Every night a full house, but no night quite as full as to-night... July 14th, Bastille Day, when they spin that dormant mirrored stalactite into action and kick the French electronica into full gear. From the bus window was about as close as I'd get, leaving the party to those who knew the what for.
BISTRO DU COIN
1738 Connecticut Ave, NW
Washington, D.C. 20009
A personal memory, nothing more, with no bearing on the below - seaside propaganda from the South of France; Nice, isn't it? That's Nice, like fleece - save for the common celebration...
Happy Bastille Day, cheese eaters.