Sometimes a Texan (even if we're talking ages ago, or as they say here, jadis) just HAS to have a taste of Tex-Mex, even in Paris.
This guac with some nondescript salsa wasn't half-bad. I could close my eyes and pretend it was a true Tex-Mex place back in my hometown, especially since the music playing in the background was what you'd expect in a Mexican restaurant in Paris.
And if that didn't pass the "high" standards of a Texan, well, when I opened my eyes, I was in Paris! As consolation prizes go, that's pas mal.