Working, against the odds

At work, four of us had an impromptu lunch to say goodbye to Vivian, who is leaving us. She chose Lucien, the little French bistro nearby, on 1st and 1st. Because it was all rather sad we ordered a bottle of champagne and toasted to a new year and to new things, and waited for our lunch. Then another bottle of bubbly appeared - a gift from Lucien, who is usually in residence at lunchtime. His conversations with regulars make for wonderful eavesdropping.

Dutifully (...) we drank it, me thinking of the two proposals I had to put together a little later. I started matching wine with water.

And after lunch and before the champagne was quite gone Lucien reappeared, carrying little snifters of an amber Something that looked dangerous and wonderful. Putting these before us, and producing the bottle, which he placed on the table, he invited us to spend a long afternoon. This gesture of magnanimity never fails to impress me on the few occasions when I am on its receiving end. Alcohol is where the money lies if you run a restaurant. Still, it is a superb act of public relations. Naturally I will be back.

The Calvados smelled wonderful. Natalie and I looked furtively for a vase of flowers to absorb the overflow. No luck. More water. I am seriously out of training and Natalie, despite her French blood...sigh. Naturally we drank it, and it was superbly delicious. More water.

We were in no position to attack the bottle itself, and I left behind a glass of bubbly. But it was a good lunch, with rabbit and mustard sauce with noodles, coquilles St Jacques, and roast chicken to go round. Lucien's whiskery kisses confirmed what I feel strongly: for a restaurant to be alive it needs to have an owner in it, and often.

Good luck Vivian, and et merci, Lucien.