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“We were still hungry, and decided to stop at a nondescript seaside restaurant, where we ate grilled sardines and planks of meaty, snow-white monkfish drizzled in olive oil and salt, with a few boiled potatoes and a carafe of rosé. The fish had been out of the sea for less than two hours, the waiter told us, and why would he lie? The sea was right there next to us. I'm not going to say that the fish and the potatoes and the wine were so much better than what we'd eaten at El Bulli, but it was all quite good, and a relief to sit in a chair, use a fork, see the charred skin, and pick out the bones.” — Laurie Woolever
We were still hungry, and decided to stop at a nondescript seaside restaurant, where we ate grilled sardines and planks of meaty, snow-white monkfish drizzled in olive oil and salt, with a few boiled potatoes and a carafe of rosé. The fish had been out of the sea for less than two hours, the waiter told us, and why would he lie? The sea was right there next to us. I'm not going to say that the fish and the potatoes and the wine were so much better than what we'd eaten at El Bulli, but it was all quite good, and a relief to sit in a chair, use a fork, see the charred skin, and pick out the bones.