You turn a corner upon the plaza and see a giant pink unicorn blazon and the sign 'la licorne', then you look down and, yes, there is a crêperie done out all in white and pink. Yes. You feel the need to sit. Luckily, the city got together to construct a plaza on that very spot, knowing that you would need to sit--you would need to sit and contemplate this spectacle over a languid cigarette. On the blazon, the horn forms the 'i', as if saying 'I. I am unicorn'.
Yes. You want to go there--you /need/ to go there--the universe has been directing your life to this very point and there you stand, the unicorn pink, proud, and beckoning beyond time and space ... to turn away now would be to turn your back on any belief you may have in God or fate or the order of the universe. Everything has been leading to this--the good choices and the bad, your first kiss, that time you lied to your parents, your college, your high school, your birth, the very founding of the Roman empire.
'But I can't go in /there/,' you think, 'I'm a grown man! Someone will see me!' And to your surprise, who peoples this oasis of pink? Why, not 4- and 7-year old princesses in their Sunday best pouring imaginary tea to their stuffed animals, their parents sitting impatiently by, trying to forget themselves and their daughters' spoiled pretensions in the iPhones, or bottle, or both. No! There is a classy older woman sipping what looks like a martini at 11:00 in the morning and looking like she doesn't give a sh*.
I passed numerous restaurants in St Malo, but I had to come back to this one for lunch, I didn't care if it was a tourist trap, or overpriced, or if there were fire ants... nothing would have stopped me. I already gave the restaurant 5 stars before I had been seated: this place was not just preposterous, it was also nice and drew a nice crowd of knowledgeable locals enjoying a leisurely lunch.
Also, they have food here, and it is grand! The crêpes are truly excellent, made from the best ingredients, everything fresh, local cheeses, potatoes! The cider they offer in various qualities and origins, all the best private stock from the region, fresh and biting and refreshing, tickling your tongue and your brain until you're silly-happy beyond any possible expectation.
And now your full, and you're happy, and you have a bit of a buzz from the cider, and you begin to understand why that woman is still there, glass empty, unmoving... she doesn't want to leave. Neither do you. read more