In retrospect, it was the best meal of my life. Not coincidentally, it was also the best street food of my life.
Admittedly, much of what made the meal so memorable was the circumstances. It was just after midnight in Paris. We had just left a wine bar that closed for the night, where we’d had a glass or two of champagne. A light mist was falling on the cobblestone street.
And in that most romantic of settings, I was hungry.
Across the street — cobblestone, as I said — was a creperie. There was a line, five or six people long, waiting to take their turn ordering crepes at the window that opened onto the street.
I made my way to the front of the line, ordered and watched them as they made it. I picked up my crepe, shaped in a cone and wrapped in waxed paper, at the next window. It was absolutely heavenly.