Soon after arriving in Paris for the first time, I found myself in one of the train stations. I was hungry and noticed a small stand selling sausages in a roll. It was (wo)manned by a sweet young thing and I was drawn to it by both my hunger and her looks.
I ordered and she produced an oh-so French long skinny baguette which she mounted in a machine reminiscent of those bar-mounted mechanical wine cork pullers. Set in motion, this machine expertly drilled a perfect hole through the length of the baguette.
But the topper came next. Plucking a long hot-dog-looking sausage from a pot of steaming water, she lathered it generously with mustard and then proceeded to slide it expertly into the excavated baguette eyeing me saucily as she did so.
She then handed me the result with a devilish look and said "juste comme ša".
I still smile every time I remember that episode.
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