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Matters of taste

The Spanish have perfected the beach restaurant

By Niki Segnit   August 2011

There’s a beautiful beach on the Côte d’Azur, not far from the Fort de Brégançon, the French president’s official summer retreat. The sand is white and the water so clear you can spot the rubber-clad heads of the secret-service frogmen lurking in it. Tucked into the cove is a rustic-looking restaurant. Breeze round at lunchtime, dreaming of what you might eat with your glass of chilled rosé, and you’ll be met by the granite expression of the head waiter, who, clicking his tongue, will tap the reservation book and announce he has nothing for you. Now, in my book, the…

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