The buffet at
the station, since it was taken in hand by the South-Eastern Railway, is
not the dreadful place of ill-cooked food it used to be. At the terminus
of the tramway which runs into the forest a little _cabaret_ gives a
simple meal, and the trip out and back is the pleasantest short
excursion from Boulogne. At Wimille it is wise to inquire what charge
the new hotel proposes to make before sitting down to a meal. Ambleteuse
is another little watering-place to the north on the coast. Here the
mid-day meal at the principal inn is lengthy if nothing else.
Following the coast along, Paris-Plage has not as yet developed any
restaurant of note, and the inn at Etaples, which is the town on the
railway whence the walk or drive to Paris-Plage has to be undertaken, is
more famous for having given shelter to generations of artists, some of
whom have paid their bills with sketches, than for its food, though some
of the best _pre-sale_ mutton in France comes from the fields
over-flowed by the estuary at high tide. A goodly proportion of the
shrimps and prawns one has to pay so highly for as _hors-d'oeuvre_ in
the restaurants of Paris come from Paris-Plage, Le Touquet, and their
neighbour down the coast, Berk. Indeed, if any gourmet has a _penchant_
for shrimps and asses' milk, Berk would be his paradise.
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