Le Verre Volé is a shoebox-size wine bar along the banks of the Canal St.-Martin. Its name means “the stolen glass.” I don’t know about the missing stemware, but I can attest to having lost many other things at this joint, including cash, moderation and my natural wine virginity.
Colorful tables are crammed into a space that’s likely smaller than your living room. The walls are lined with shelves and shelves of wine. You’ll sit so close to your neighbor (a young sommelier, a local actor, a tango instructor) that conversation will be unavoidable.
There are two kinds of evenings at Le Verre Volé. The first is composed of dinner, wine and intimate conversation. The dishes are selected from a chalkboard menu that changes with the seasons. Using nothing more than a couple of toaster ovens, the “cooks” here turn out starters like brandade de morue (salt cod and potato purée) with purple artichokes, or a salad of ripe heirloom tomatoes from Annie Bertin…
…The second kind of evening chez Stolen Glass ends with chairs on pushed-back tables and some manner of debauchery. I have seen tango dancing at Le Verre Volé. I have seen a visiting American break-dancing on the floor (see photo above). I have stood at the counter, long after the exterior gate has been pulled down, and finished off bottles of Who Can Remember with a Metallica-loving sommelier. This wine bar is a magic spring of random Paris adventure…
> Read the full review at The Girls’ Guide to Paris
> See additional photos of Le Verre Vole on Flickr




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