Got into Burgundy. Wished I was nowhere else. Headed from Dijon, south past the Mustard City’s urban sprawl. Dig the bowling alleys and pizza parlours. Then came the vineyards, and then the names: Gevrey-Chambertin. Vougeut. Vosne-Romanne. Nuits-St Georges. More Holy Grails than in a poker-hand of five aces.
The beautiful people were there, tanned and bare-fleshed; long-limbed with gleaming white teeth and discreetly clattering jewellery, and smelling o-so-lovely as you walked by. And those were just the guys.
French Toast, wine and tapas emporium in Bree Street, Cape Town is hot, hip and happening. Also very good. Hammer wine selection. Fine stemware. Also, it understands tapas. Fresh and tasty, and just-so portioned with fresh bread. White anchovies and calamari to die for. Check out the charcuterie. Cheese. Sausage. Sauces.