Los Angeles and New York are like two rivaling cousins. There’s always going to be something to argue about.One has captured the gritty, dog-eat-dog charisma of the family traits, while the other exudes a smooth, mellow, earthy nature. One can never seem to catch up with itself, while time moves fluidly in the other. One suffers the wrath of the seasons, while the other enjoys sunshine and breezy temperatures.

I don’t know what I’d expected – all roads and recommendations had led us to Chez Gladines, a Basque-style restaurant in the 13^th arrondissement of Paris. We’d gotten there early and still had to wait an hour outside for a table. After days of sightseeing fueled by crepe stands and baguette sandwiches on the go, a sit-down meal out of the tourist’s path was a welcome change. I carried a post-it note in my wallet, written on it the most important French phrase I hadn’t thought to learn before we came here: Je suis végétarienne. Que conseillez-vous?