Mr. N visited me from Roppongi with packs of home-made cookies. Small and pretty companion to my tea. His wife sometimes teaches desert-cooking to neighbors, a voluntary professional at home, she sounds like. We briefly discussed business and a few topics of CES in Las Vegas that I happily declined to visit this year. On leaving, he said that he found a good place and thus we should go there next time. “It’s French in Osaki.” Where would it be?
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