A Mexican in Paris?

It’s been a while since I’ve eaten so much I feel dangerously unwell and then immediately thrown myself and expanding waistline onto the dancefloor…actually since the days of post-match, pre-party curry houses in my second year at university.


Feeling hideously under the weather even before leaving the house, Boyfriend had not elaborated on what had been described vite fait as “l’anniv d’un pote dans un resto sympa… et pas loin“.


El Chihuahua at the Bastille is one-third restaurant, one-third bar, one-third club. With a strict 25 euro three-course meal (understandable seeing as we were in one of several groups of over 20), it is a little pricy (even if the food is really quite good). Luckily the birthday boy was feeling generous and offered the drinks.

The music, which starts at 12, was exactly what I had been craving after so long off the British ‘scene’, although perhaps not on such a full stomach nor a gravelly cough (making me sound eerily llike Gollum, apparently.) Reggaetron developed from traditional salsa, and then into club/R&B classics.


The atmosphere was great, not at all pretentious like some of the Parisian clubs I’ve been to. A wide variety of people, of all ages and dance levels, mexican-ed (word?) and weaved dangerously around the tables still dotted about the dancefloor.


So, to summarise, I would really recommend this restaurant/club to those looking for a location where there is none of the ‘where do we go afterwards?’ fuss, with good food and music you can have fun to without feeling obliged to check make-up every five minutes.


Vive La Fête!


Yours,


Mustard



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