If It's Wednesday It Must be Paris

Where the fuck am I? Sunday was the wedding. The day after, yesterday and this morning were Barcelona. And I've just arrived in Paris tonight. The wedding was an alcohol and Cuban cigar and Oriol Balaguer chocolate induced blur. I vaguely remember at one point serving up a gin fizz espuma cocktail to Ferran - and then later in the night doing some dirty Spanish dancing with him. Not only is he one of the greatest chefs of our time but the man has got some serious moves. And this morning I had tapas at the infamous Bar Pinotxo at La Boqueria market just off La Rambla in Barcelona - and I just had a late dinner at L'As du Falafel in the Marais in Paris. Sometimes I'm jealous of myself. Will post more after I decompress - a bientot.