For most people, the idea of dinner in Paris likely conjures one of two images: an elegant restaurant where white-jacketed waiters glide about with silver- domed dishes, or a cozy bistro where a platter of steak frites is plunked down before you and the house red is as good as any you’ve tasted.
Bonsoir, bonsoir!” Sylvie sang out, kissing me on both cheeks before turning to my husband and doing the same. She ushered us into her small, modern Parisian apartment, eyeing the bottle of champagne that we’d brought as a thank-you gift. “I’m glad you were able to come tonight.”
Six years ago, I received a birthday present worth over $70,000. No, I’m not friends with Oprah. The gift came in the form of a book about restoring farms and village houses and it was a nod to the massive restoration project my husband and I were about to undertake.