Editor’s letter
I was 14 when I experienced a bistro for the first time, on my first-ever visit to Paris. We had arrived early in the morning on a whirlwind trip (one of the perks of being a pilot’s daughter was impromptu getaways to anywhere that happened to have spare seats on a flight) and by 11am, I was in love. Paris captured my heart instantly – and still holds it today. Later this month, I will make my first European visit in four years, flying straight to Charles de Gaulle to be reunited with my love. My aunty and uncle arrived from London on the Eurostar and marched us straight to their favourite bistro, informing my brother and I that there would be two choices of main, a starter and a dessert,…