Everywhere we went in Paris it seemed they served Illy coffee. Of course you know how crotchety I am about all things French and it bugged me I loved something French that much.
You can't even imagine how excited I was when I found out Illy is Italian.
I do love me all things Italian.
Did I mention some of the best Italian food outside of Little Italy Cleveland we found in Paris?
Crazy but true.
One last birthday present, whole bean Illy coffee, ground up and brewed in the Bialetti was almost like being right back on the Cours de Vincennes sipping coffee and eating pastries. Ok, one thing I will concede to the French, the best freak'n pastries on earth, almost lighter than air and melt in your mouth.
On a cold afternoon in Cincinnati though, the Illy hit the spot.