When I wrote about being denied tap water at a Paris restaurant, I never imagined it would spark such a hullaballoo. But 32 comments later, it’s clear that I’m not the only one who’s thirsty around here.
Imagine my surprise a few days ago when my dining companion, Elizabeth, called to tell me she’d received a mysterious voicemail message — from the owner of the very same restaurant where we’d lunched with such thirst! I was traveling, so it took me a few days to call him back. But when I did, he seduced me with those three little words that are so rarely heard: J’avais tort.
Translation: I was wrong.
“After 50 years in the restaurant business, I had a little revolution. I verified everything and I was at fault,” he said. “Vous aviez complètement raison. Thanks to you, I am now following the law. Je voulais m’excuser.”
What can I say, mes amis? I was flabbergasted.
Monsieur then invited me to lunch at his establishment so that he could “spoil” me. It was a kind invitation but one my personal code of journalistic ethics prevented me from accepting. The next time I find myself hungry and in the neighborhood, however, I won’t hesitate to sample his bistro again — anonymously. And if it’s dinner time, I might even order a glass of wine. Pourquoi pas?