39V

I went to Paris and lost my damn mind.  Let's just start with that.  Because I don't need to spend this post, or those that may follow, defending my abhorrently large appetite.  I've certainly had more than my share of gluttonous moments.  But I really took it there this time.  There wasn't a plate of food that anyone put in front me that I didn't clear, and then ask for some bread so I could sop up any sauce that was left on the plate. 

The trouble really started here...

Ah Le 39V.  It looks innocent enough, right?  I mean it's fine French dining, so sure, I expected to have a delicious meal that begins with perfectly crisp on the outside - soft on the inside bread, and perfectly salted butter.  And yes, I expected to have good service, which in this case means that they don't smack me in the mouth as I butcher the French language while I order.  But I did not expect to nearly pee my pants when they served me the amuse bouche.



Yes, that is an herb-scented parmesan ravioli with a truffle-cream sauce.  WHAT?  Yes, there was sopping involved.  Shut up.

Then my first course came.  I'm a sucker for mushrooms.  And I'm a sucker for a perfectly cooked egg.  And when people get them both right in the same dish, sometimes my eyes well up.  And that's what happened when this showed up.

 And that, my friends is the organic soft-boiled egg with a mushroom emulsion.  YES!  Do you think "organic soft-boiled egg with mushroom emulsion" is too long to be a middle name?  Because I'm thinking of changing mine to that.  And I think we all know what happened when I cracked the egg...

Well after that happened I really tried to maintain some modicum of composure.  I was already in a very quiet French restaurant snapping pictures every 5 seconds, and being way too loud with my American friends.  So the fact that I wanted to jump out of my seat and scream "BRING IT!" upon the announcing of the main course, was really just inappropriate.  But that's how I felt...on the inside.  Enter the chicken...

I have a lot of feelings about ordering chicken in a restaurant.  Most of my feelings revolve around the fact that that idea is dumb.  But then again, most restaurants don't serve this as the side dish to their perfectly roasted and sauced chicken...

Yes, that would be a side dish of chicken...chicken sausages...chicken livers...all the best chicken bits that didn't make it onto the main plate.  Why should the breasts have all the fun?!  (insert obvious joke here).  And just when I thought it was over...Just when they were rolling up the wheel-barrow with which to roll my fat ass out of there...Dessert showed up.  And while I'm not a huge dessert fan, I can't help love a dish whose topping reminds of what my hair looks like when I wake up in the morning.