I recognized Nat(halie) the moment I walked into la Bodeguita, a newish wine bar on the rue Quincampoix. I spent many nights in the palm of her hand back when she worked at Le Garde Robe. “I remember you, too” she said, narrowing her eyes into a French girl’s version of “here comes trouble.”

I always drank too much at Le Garde Robe when Nat was working behind the bar. I’d go in for one drink and she’d pour me something crazy – something natural, unexpected and fun. She asked what I thought, made suggestions based on my response, and allowed me to taste before pouring a glass. Under Nat’s command, I was always ready to conquer the ever-expanding territory of “just one more.”

Her presence at La Bodeguita was only the first of many signs. Also promising: the sight of Edyta, the Ryst-Dupeyron seller who stole my Armagnac virginity, and the wafting smell of room temperature charcuterie (see here for Sébastien Demorand’s dirty thoughts on the matter).

58 rue Quincampoix, 75003

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