Polaroids from Paris: {Manger Mexicain}

I think being an American automatically means that we are prone to having withdrawal from Mexican food, or even in some cases just simple Tex-Mex. The combination of beans, rice, cilantro, and avocados are lacking here in Paris. It appears that the French consider a burrito to be the same thing as a wrap, which is usually served cold. It just doesn't work. So one evening, with an already full stomach, Renee and I were planning out our next meal. It has been that kind of week.
 We were reminiscing to each other about our lives state-side, and a common theme was our longing to hold and indulge in a tasty burrito. I did the research instantly, and wrote out the plan in my little red agenda.
We were determined to find the place that had the ingredients for the combination mentioned above, and who served it right.
I invited another friend, Melissa, a legitimate Mexican herself, who knows all about tortillas. I went over to her apartment one day, and discovered she owned a tortilla press to make her own. So I figured her opinion would be valuable. We all headed toward the canal, and there it was, pocketed away; what Renee said, "in all of it's purple glory." A teeny-tiny establishment, that we barely all fit in. Once we entered, the scents were mesmerizing, and we all knew instantly that we had found our place that will appease our cravings.
El Nopal
3 rue Eugene Varlin
Paris, France


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