When the New York Times did a front page story on these guys a couple of weeks ago, half a dozen people sent me the link. Cantine California parks every Tuesday and Friday at the Marché Raspail, my local street market, and so not only did I know about them, I've sampled their goods while doing my weekly shopping. It was our duty, don't you agree?
The hamburgers are awesome, thick, fresh, and authentic. The fries could use a little work. They're too limp. And much as I hate to say it, the tacos are not worth the effort; the homemade tortillas need to be made in someone else's home.
But the people running it are a lot of fun; two Jordans, one male, one female, both fluent in French with strong American accents and apparently thrilled to be making a success of it. That's the female Jordan up there, working at her usual fast pace.
The other day when I said goodbye and thanked her, she drawled "Y'all come back now, hear?" in a fake Southern accent, which immediately made me think how cool it would be if they offered barbecued ribs. When I mentioned it to the other Jordan he got a thoughtful look in his eye. Maybe by the time we get back?
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