One morning, I found myself standing amid rows of vines under a gray yet luminous French sky. Well tended and already heavy with bunches of fruit, these chardonnay and sauvignon blanc vines might have been the pride of a country chateau. But this vineyard happens to be in the 35-acre Parc de Bercy, in the 12th Arrondissement of Paris, at the city’s southeastern edge. Along with the culture of the vine, just plain culture is also nearby, including the Frank Gehry-designed French Cinémathèque and the imposing National Library. The vineyard itself, enclosed by a low brick wall, or clos, is within a portion of the park named for Yitzhak Rabin, the Israeli prime minister assassinated in 1995. A memorial rose garden planted with 95 varieties of roses is adjacent to the vineyard.

It’s not by chance that at Parc de Bercy’s core is a vineyard flanked by a traditional brick and tile-roofed wine storage building called a chai, or that old narrow-gauge rail tracks cross between them. Beginning in the 19th century, wine-laden barges from the south converged on Bercy, which became the world’s largest wine staging and storage area, complete with internal rail service. Unique to the region, Bercy was a tax-free zone. Levies had to be paid only when wine was shipped out to thirsty Paris and beyond. In old photos, the riverbank is a mass of offloaded oak barrels competing for space with riverside restaurants famed for their wine-fueled merriment, their platters of fried river fishes, and the shallot and white wine-infused sauce Bercy.

By the 1960s, the public’s preference for wines bottled at the property and the ascendance of trucks over barges ended Bercy’s reign over the Parisian wine trade. The past is preserved in local street names — Rue de Pommard crosses Rue de Chablis, for example — and, above all, by a network of sturdily built chais, their portals wide enough to roll big barrels in and out, that had long stood vacant. In the 1990s, the government remade Bercy by creating the park parallel to the Seine, anchored at the north end by a giant indoor sports stadium and to the south by an enormous new exposition center. A parade of 42 chais were converted into a shopping and dining mall called Bercy Village along the cobble-stoned, pedestrians-only Cour St. Émilion.

Curious about a spot on the Paris map called Place des Vins de France, adjacent to the Cour St. Émilion, I was on my way to check it out when I stumbled upon the Clos de Bercy vineyard. But having tarried amid the vines long enough for hunger set in, I headed to Bercy Village for a modest lunch before continuing on to my original destination. Among a half dozen eateries on the mall, I settled for a table on the terrace of the Nicolas wine boutique and wine bar. It’s hard to walk more than a few blocks in Paris without coming across one of the shops in the venerable Nicolas chain, but only a few offer a sipping and dining option. You can choose either from the wine list, which includes ample by-the-glass choices, or else buy a bottle in the shop and have it served for a modest surcharge of about $2. That choice could range from a perfectly drinkable Nicolas-branded syrah for a mere $2.70 to a properly aged Bordeaux gem, Chateau Palmer 1986 at $265.

To wash down my simple outdoor lunch of brandade de morue (puréed salt cod and potatoes) served in a porcelain ramekin ($13), I opted for a single glass, or rather a flute, of a sparkling Rhone wine called Clairette de Die ($5). Smelling like Catawba grape juice and slightly sweet, this bubbly is ultimately unserious. Earlier that week, I was wowed by a bottle of a very different sort of sparkler, Krug 1995: a dry Champagne of enormous intensity and flavor impact. Nothing induces appreciation of all varieties of wine (at least in me) like drinking from opposite ends of the spectrum. In this case, the Clairette de Die partnered perfectly with the humble brandade, whereas Krug 1995 would have vanquished it.

Finally, I found my way to the Place des Vins de France, only to be disappointed. It’s a scruffy space, bracketed by sterile office buildings, one of which houses the national associations of pork, beef, and egg producers. But there was nothing related to wine on the Place des Vins de France — not even a Nicolas shop. Even so, with its vineyard, network of old chais, and array of modest, wine-friendly cafés, Bercy is a worthy diversion for a wine lover in Paris.

Bercy is conveniently accessible via the fully automated no. 14 Metro line whose terminus in central Paris is the Gare St. Lazare. Get off at Cour St. Émilion, which abuts Parc de Bercy. The Nicolas Wine Bar and Boutique is at 24 Cour St. Émilion.