We decided to tour France a couple of years ago, and our first stop was Paris, where we rented the most beautiful flat that had belonged to a south-American diplomat, complete with baby grand to do his piano practice. It was on the Rue de Sebastopol, a wonderful base from which to explore Paris, but at 6am every morning a noisy lorry would arrive and have what sounded like tons and tons of glass tipped into it. We couldn't see what was underneath us from the balconies, so went exploring one sunny morning down the narrow Rue Qincampoix, where we saw the entrance to a restaurant. DBH said, we must book to go there one night. So we did, for the next night.
We arrived - no lights on in the sunny lobby we had been in the previous day. There were lights, but very dim ones. It suddenly clicked - the English branch had opened very recently and my cousins had been there. I knew Dans le Noir sounded familiar! Why it hadn't clicked at the time I have no idea, but it was too late, we were there - in a place that we had said we hated the sound of!
It is definitely strange, not to know what you are eating. You lose one sense, you lose the colour. You can taste something and none of you will agree to what it was that you were eating - we chose from a limited menu, but of course completely forgot what it was by the time it arrived. Maybe it wasn't the best time for DS to experiment with boudin blanc for the first time... A lot of our food ended up being passed around from mouth to mouth for a verdict on what is was that we were eating. It all tasted wonderful, we just didn't know what it was.
The waiters (all blind) were fantastic, heaven only knows how they can avoid heads at the last moment as someone moves, but they do. Finding my way to the ladies was challenging enough.
I hope they are still doing well, but I do like to see what I am eating. I think I would take someone with me to one, if they hadn't been before, but wouldn't go again on our own - because, So many good restaurants, so little time!