Would that I could do this review justice in French. Alas, my orthographe and grammaire are nuls…read more I'll do what I can in my langue de sous-développé.
Although in the years I lived in Paris I didn't have the chance to visit M. Huard's other establishments, his emplacement on rue Poncelet was always a spot I looked forward to visiting. I met Jerome a number of times, but his colleague who regularly tends the boutique is truly one of the most charming and gracious wine merchants I've ever met--definitely the funniest.
Whether you're looking for something to spoil your parents on their wedding anniversary or for something new to fool around with without worrying about your rent, you will find something delightful. Although they absolutely have well-known names decorating their walls, their selection is un-pretentiously well-curated. Everything I tried there was completely new to me. You could scour the best-stocked marché in France, but you wouldn't find this much good taste (and good advice) per square metre and at a fair value anywhere else.
Since it's been a while since I last set foot here, I've lost the name of my friend, Jerome's colleague. You'll know him when you meet him; his voice announces his bon vivant swagger from down the street. His talent for sussing out your tastes and predilections and suggesting something interesting was astonishing. I could never walk out of the store with just one purchase. It's hopeless. His confidence in his recommendations is irrésistible and well-founded. In my experience he's been infallible. Time after time after time after time and then some, he was right on the mark. The man understands his product and more importantly, his clients; after a short conversation, he will find you something enjoyable at any price point.
While doubtless this will sound excessive, I've shopped for wine more times than I could ever hope to count and Les Grandes Caves Poncelet is my favorite merchant on earth. Never have I been so consistently happy with every impeccable recommendation. It's like leaving the barber happy with your haircut every time--like some fantasy you didn't imagine could happen.
Although I don't live in Paris anymore, I often find myself wishing I could stop by the store, shoot the proverbial $&!# with my favorite caviste and walk home with some new labels to discover and savor. Here' s to fantasizing that New York will confiscate the 17th.