The Best Thing I Ever Ate

 I am a bit food obsessed.  I like to plan my life around when and what I am going to eat.  When I think of heaven I think of free flowing wine and…corn bread.  I am obsessed with certain foods and cornbread is one of them.  But since it is like a cakey heart attack in a tin, I don’t allow myself to eat it very frequently.  So when I do have it I want it to kick ass.  What is the point of eating something that isn’t delicious? I eat to live sure, but why can't you live to eat as well?

A meal, a perfect meal, encompasses more than what is just going into your gullet.  The ambiance, the company, the lighting, the weather…There is so much that goes into a pleasant experience.  I am not the only food obsessed person, thankfully, and have been able to share some really amazing culinary delights with some great friends over the years.  I know that some people say the best meal they ever had or can remember was one at home and I am sure that some home cooked meals have a special place in my heart.  However, those meals were more about who made them for me, not how they tasted.  And when  I get a case of the hungry hippos and need to feed my food baby, I want something truly mind blowing.

I’ve eaten some weird things in my life and have been exposed to a lot of food that some people would never think of trying, raw beef, slugs, frogs, what I think was 1,000 year old cheese.  From those experiences I have formed a very selective palate and while I will turn away food that is a weird consistency (a whole other blog) but am usually open to anything that peaks my interests.

The second time I visited Paris I went to see my friend Diana who was studying there.  I've had a long term love affair with the city since I was 10 or 11 when I first visited my family there.  Yes, I know, how cliché.  But it is much more to me than the Eiffel Tower or the mona Lisa and berets.  In fact, I loathe most of the things that fanny pack wearing, mullet sporting, Nike stomping Americans come to see.  I feel alive there, I feel at home and I love how much they hate us. 

Maybe that is why I love my cat Jelly, she’s a bitch but she is of discerning tastes.  She isn’t going to let just anyone in.  That is how Paris is.  It is not some lap dog trying to get your attention by nipping at your ankles but it is a Persian sitting atop a shelf looking down upon you.  It doesn’t interact with you that often, but when it does, it is truly surprising.

My last two trips 5 and 4 years ago, I went because I needed to be surprised.  I needed a breath of fresh air and Paris is nothing if not surprising.  You make friends with strangers and enemies of your friends.  The people, the city, even the insults are beautiful. so too of course should be the food.  Whether it is 4:30am croissants fresh from the oven or full bodied table wine, you always come away satisfied.  Of course when you are traveling or backpacking in a foreign city where you butcher the language and screw up the money conversion, you are not always privy to the finest foods.  Thankfully on the trip I mentioned in 2006, I was able to stay with, and be escorted around by Diana.  She brought me to a rum bar that made a refreshing mojito  and a quirky bar that served its drinks in baby bottles.  My favorite meal from the trip though and somewhere near the top 5 of my most favorite meals ever was also on an excursion with her.  With Diana's friends we had dinner at a place that I don’t even remember that name of.  I do remember what I ate though.

You could hear French, Italian, and English floating through the air.  It was warm and almost glowed, which was already exciting to me after dealing with a dreary March day.  The tables and chairs were quite small but we piled in to get some victuals.  I had lamb.

Lamb is not the most favorite of the farm animals here in America.  I am an equal opportunist when it comes to meats and all animals are fair game if I'm hungry.  The lamb was a rack of lamb and it was like the little chest cavity of the lamb! Kind of bizarre looking but just cooked to perfection and drenched in some delicious sauce that were I more adept, I would describe in more deserving and accurate terms than, delicious and mouth watering.  Then of course there was wine.

Conversations flying in French and English and laughter were aided by red wine.  I actually was not a fan of red wine until then.  Now we are bosom buddies.  I’m not even sure you're supposed to have lamb with red wine but hell I had red wine with cantaloupe last night while watching Glee…so lets not be too persnickety.  Next, dessert.  I had crème brulee.

Before then, I had never had crème brulee, as far as I can remember.  After that I was spoiled.  For someone who hates white creamy foods, you would think I would also hate custard.  But this is not custard, it is perfection.  It is heaven in your mouth.  It has everything that you ever wanted.  It oozes love and acceptance and tells you you're beautiful and smart.  This crème brulee would have tucked you in at night had you not just devoured it.

Ive had this dessert many times since then but none have come close.  Unfortunately, some have been downright terrible and now that I have tasted heaven it is kind of hard to settle for the Cheesecake Factory’s version.  A crème brulee done properly should crack audibly from the tap of your spoon.  The fired, crispy, sugar glass should be just this side of toasted so there is a bit of an after taste of smokey flavor but NOT burnt.  The custard should be like silk.  It should be sweet, creamy but not sugary.   It should be lighter than pudding but thicker than cream.  And this one had all that and then some.  This Dionysian dessert also had the tiniest element of white chocolate within the custard. I can't tell you, I cannot describe how good it is because you may think I was discussing some sort of sexual encounter. 

Paris is heavenly, even if there are overly lascivious men and your American ass is too big for their perfectly tailored pants.  Food should be artistry and while I may not be lover of French wines, I am a lover of French food, and the occasional French gigolo who will run you down in the Metro to hand you business card as he propositions you on a Sunday morning.