M. was in France for 24 hours to assess a show and he came home around 6am smelling of New Orleans! I haven't got to chat with him yet about what he ate or what else he got up to, but his clothes have that distinct and yet impossible-to-put-your-finger-on aroma of sweet and spice and pralines and red beans and rice and beignets and spices that go in a crawfish boil that you sometimes smell randomly around parts of New Orleans. The only other time I've smelled that in Europe was when we went to a Senegalese restaurant in Paris a couple of years ago that served the best boudin I'd had in years. In fact, it was the only boudin I'd had in years.