THAT YEAR IN Paris. It was everything 32-year-old David Upchurch had dreamed of. The streets, the galleries, the shows, the people. A charming apartment not far from the Moulin Rouge. A chocolate shop at one end of the block, a patisserie at the other.
“That first truffle was magical. I spent all my money on chocolate. European chocolate, what we call craft chocolate, tastes so different from our own.”
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