There are times when Munch feels out of place, a bit socially awkward. At those times, as odd as it is, having a bag on one's head can be a blessing, even if it makes it easier to trip when going upstairs.

Most of such times are found in one place: Sewickley. (In Sewickley's defense, Munch is sure to feel just as odd in Fox Chapel or Upper St. Clair, but they won't let Munch in.)

For a sojourn into Sewickley, Munch had planned to bring Dashing Friend of Munch, who, after being invited along, asked Munch, "Do you mind if I wear a baseball cap?" and so, Dashing Friend of Munch became, Formerly Dashing Friend of Munch (FDFOM) so along Route 65 the two drove, with Munch wondering how not to be spotted in such a posh setting with a fashion scofflaw.

Luckily, Munch likes alleys. Munch had ducked down one named Division Street, when the awnings of Cafe des Amis came into view. Munch was intrigued, a French bakery cafe, in the heart of Sewickley? If they are letting the French in.... , well then, Munch lost the bag and headed for the door. Munch was eating.

Cafe des Amis has a marvelous feel. Customers line up at the counter for sandwiches on baguettes and croissants, or a lunch of quiche and salad or a dessert of chocolate mousse in its own little ramekin. Sewickley really does have a slice of heaven.

Cafe des Amis may be a little tough for the accent impaired. Munch was OK, but struggled trying to understand the name of the stuff, made with cream and eggs, that was poured onto the bottom of the plate before the tart was served, but Munch is fast forwarding to what will be the best part.

Munch and FDFOM stood in line and reached the front before realizing that the menus were at the other end of the counter and should have been read before stepping up to order. While two women stepped ahead, Munch and FDFOM perused the offerings, then asked what was good, to receive the overly helpful reply "everything." That really narrowed it down. Munch, not wanting to be displaced in line again, settled on the leek and goat cheese quiche ($6.50) served with creme of mushroom soup with a taste of salad with dijon vinegarette as a garnish.

FDFOM went with the chicken salad sandwich ($6.90), which included as one of the ingredients sundried tomatoes. It was supposed to be served on a croissant, but it had been a busy Saturday and the croissants were gone, so it was on a baguette. FDFOM also chose the mushroom soup as a side.

What a pleasant lunch, and such good prices. Munch figured in a place like Sewickley, the French bakery could gouge the customers, but this is fairly priced and a pleasant place to spend part of an afternoon. With prices this low, it's no wonder its patrons can afford the fur coats they were wearing. (Munch spotted six at one time, and why? The women wearing them did not look lean like a mink, they looked dumpy and cuddly, like a teddy bear. If that's the look for this year, they nailed it.)

For dessert (who would pass on dessert at a French bakery?) Munch went with the fruit tart in which blueberries, raspberries, strawberries and slices of kiwi fruit were arranged and baked with a clear glaze. The crust was a tad overdone, but it was great, all the same. FDFOM was less lucky, ordering the chocolate tart, but the chocolate was a bit flat, it needed more vanilla. Both tarts, were, Munch believes, served on a little pool of Creme Anglaise, with a bit of raspberry sauce dribbled over them, but Munch had a heck of a time understanding what the guy who served the desserts was saying when Munch asked about it. But then, Munch couldn't understand much of what was going on, including this dark haired woman who was filling the orders. Her words came out, in English, but it was heavily accented.

After lunch, Munch and FDFOM encountered the same woman, smoking a cigarette and watching the dogs being groomed in the bay window across the alley. She talked about how the dogs being groomed seemed so happy, that she had a new puppy, that she enjoyed working at the restaurant, which had only been open about three weeks. She said it all with a slight Pittsburgh accent.

"Were you faking a French accent in there?" Munch asked.

Indeed, she admitted, she was. But she wasn't sure exactly what it should sound like, so, she said, she was probably doing a sort of yinzer French.

Quelle scandale!

The French woman is a fake?

Pass the Freedom Bread.

Cafe des Amis, 443 Division St., Sewickley, 412-741-2388.