If Boulestin was a person, he or she would be born and bred in Paris. They would be slightly older than you, more cultured than you, they would dress impeccably, and would make you feel slightly uncomfortable in your ‘slobby’ clothes. They would sit in this restaurant’s excellent, slightly secret courtyard area, light a cigarette, and cross their legs. They would order a glass, soon to be bottle, of rosé. They would not question the fact it’s ten thirty in the morning.