It’s been great having our friends join us for the first part of the trip, obviously for social reasons but also them taking the lead with food suggestions. Woody & James are the foodies of our group, and when they suggested we go to Urfa Dürüm because Anthony Bourdain had been there, I was desperate.

I’d listened to Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unkown on Spotify (yes, available in podcast) of the regions we were going and found a useful map of the places he visited. I’d forgotten to factor this into the trip, but thought it’d be nice to visit the places he went and review them.

It was the final meal we’d share with our friends before they returned back to England. We’d see them again in 6 months, so to finish with lunch at Urfa Dürüm was perfect.

We parked our bikes up against a shop shutter next door and were glad to not find a queue (we’d queued for 2 hours to get into Bouillon Chartier Grands Boulevards).

From outside you can see a floured worktop with a man kneading dough in front of two huge ovens. Yellow painted walls lined with wooden beams face a slim kitchen. The grills combine with the walls to give a sense warmth (both visually and physically), they also give rise to smells of skewered meat over flames. I could mainly smell chicken which inevitably made my decision for me (chicken wrap €9.50).

The wraps lay fresh on the counter waiting for boss man to work his magic. I sit outside with two Parisians on my left and two English blokes (my friends) on my right. They’ve ordered wine, good shout, it comes in a little blue glass. Our wraps come quick and we tuck in.

I remember an aversion to sauces when I was a teenager. Unless it was chips from Southsea Seafront, I thought sauce distracted from the taste of a dish (this has now changed after meeting my partner, who rightfully insists on a jar of mayo being in our fridge 24/7). So when I took my first bite into the chicken wrap, I was a little taken aback by the lack of sauce.

It seems bold to not give any sauce at all, it’s like saying go on then mate, try actually remembering the unique flavour of fresh tomato, parsley, and cooked chicken before you drown it in garlic mayo.

And you know what, fair enough, it made me appreciate each element of the dish way more. It was a purists wrap, how god intended it kinda ting – some frills (the freshest floury wrap), no spills (that point where your wrap usually disintegrates and leaks saucy veins down your hands).

Overall, I loved the simplicity of the food and the quick on the street vibe. A perfect lunch in Paris.