After a friend and I saw a concert in Paris at Casino Nouveau (fabulous venue, by the way), we headed to the Latin Quarter, one of my favorite areas of the city, to finish the evening. We were about to sit outside at a traditional bistro under some heat lamps and do some people-watching when I mentioned I felt more inclined to be inside (for once). And for that matter, I wanted a well-made cocktail rather than a decision of Martini Blanc or Rouge.
She took me just a block further to a Le Coeur Fou ("the crazy heart"), a two-room bar, populated by Parisian hipsters and chic 20-somethings. The all-white interior was sparsely decorated by abstract artwork and dimly-lit by one lone chandelier and near-naked lightbulbs lining one wall.
After my requests for a Manhattan and Old Fashioned were rejected, I waited to see what the bartender would come up with (whisky as my only guideline). After having a glow stick stuck into my vodka soda at the concert, I was relieved to see a dark, short whiskey sour placed in front of me.
Would I go back? In a heartbeat.
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