Picpoul me once

In what seems like a different universe now, I was fresh out of university and planning my first trip to Paris. I asked a well-traveled work colleague if he had any restaurant recommendations. He did and I dutifully took notes in what was a pre-Google Maps state of existence. He then paused and said, “You’ve been at the wine tastings in the office, so I know you like wine. What do you know about… French wines?” “Um, Champagne? Pinot Noir?” “Right, as I thought, you’re screwed. The French don’t label […] For full access, please log in or purchase a subscription.