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Olives that flood your mouth with flavor. A foie gras lollipop wrapped in cotton candy. The definitive shrimp with garlic.
When I woke up the next morning, I really thought it had all been a dream. The goth mime sniffing our wine bottle, his cohorts in white porcelain masks circling the table. The gentleman in his 50s who strode in late with three women in his wake and sat next to us at the long communal table, a crude slab of hard wood that looked as if it had just come from the sawmill.