I came across an article this week about the closing of New York City’s historic Paris Café (read it here). I wouldn’t have given it a second glance, but for the fact that I’ve actually eaten there several times.
It was October 2014, and we’d been invited to a cousin’s wedding in New York City. It was my first (and only) visit to the Big Apple, and it was the main reason I bought my first digital camera – a Nikon D70 with the 18–70 mm lens.
We stayed at a hotel on Peck Slip, just around the corner from the Fulton Fish Market, and across the road from the Paris Café. At 5 a.m., we’d be woken up by the rattling of fork lifts driving over cobble stones as the market came to life, and I’d venture out with my camera.
A year later, the market moved to the Bronx, after 183 years near the Brooklyn Bridge, and now, after 147 years, the café is gone forever.