Parisian love affair

When I was in my 20s, studying wine and living on very little money in Paris, I couldn't afford to eat in real restaurants very often. But I'd stop at a favorite wine bar a couple of times a week. It always seemed to be cold weather, and the chill crept through the soles of my boots. To warm up, I would nurse a single glass of Chinon or Bourgeuil with a tartine (open-faced sandwich) or dark-flecked bread with goat cheese smashed on top.

By S. Irene Virbila, Tribune Newspapers

January 2, 2013