Wonderful.

Outside on the rue de I’Odeon I was disgusted with myself for having complained about things. I was doing  what I did of my own free will and I was doing it  stupidly. I should have bought a large piece of bread  and eaten it instead of skipping a meal. I could taste the  brown lovely crust. But it is dry in your mouth without  something to drink. You God-damn complainer. You dirty phony saint and mart}^’, I said to myself. You quit journalism of your own accord. You have credit and  Sylvia would have loaned you money. She has, plenty of  times. Sure. And then the next thing you would be  compromising on something else. Hunger is healthy and the pictures do look better when you are hungry.  

Eating is wonderful too and do you know where you're going to eat right now? 

Lipp's is where you are going to eat, and drink too. 

It was a quick walk to Lipp's and every place I  passed that my stomach noticed as quickly as my eyes or my nose made the walk an added pleasure. There were few people in the brasserie and when I sat down  on the bench against the wall with the mirror in back and a table in front and the waiter asked if I wanted beer I asked for a distingue, the big glass mug that held a litre, and for potato salad. 

The beer was very cold and wonderful to drink. The pommes à l'huile were firm and marinated and the olive oil delicious. I ground black pepper over the potatoes and moistened the bread in the olive oil. After the first heavy draught of beer I drank and ate very slowly. 

When pommes à l'huile were gone I ordered another serving and a cervelas. This was a sausage like a heavy, wide frankfurter split in two and covered with a special mustard sauce. 

I mopped up all the oil and all of the sauce with bread and drank the beer slowly until it began to lose its coldness and then I finished it and ordered a demi and watched it drawn. It seemed colder than the distingui and I drank half of it. 

Ernest Hemingway, from A Moveable Feast