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In the 6 th arrondissment of Paris, a stone’s throw from the hotel where we stayed, sits Le Comptoir. This tiny little bistro offers some of the best food I have tasted in my life. It was so good, Kate and I ate there twice. The first time we had simple bistro food, She the Tuna Salad, me the Foie Torchon. Our cheese plate arrived with a big honkin’ slab of raw milk butter, sprinkled with sea salt. The cheese and butter where at a perfect temperature, and all melted in out mouths like…well, like butter. Butter Rules!! We enjoyed our outdoor seats with cheap carafes of red wine, despite the chill air. The bistro provided snugly blankets and strong heaters were installed in the awning above us. Peopled strolled by peeping our cheese and our silly grins. Paris!! Afterwards we hit up the close by Bar Dix, where we drank sangria until we where ready to stagger over to our hotel. We knew we’d be back to both these places. A few days later we got up early and walked almost forty blocks for an American breakfast before taking the train out to Versailles’ regal palace and it’s acres of gardens. A thirty minute ride from our area of Paris put us in walking distance of this gigantic estate. We mainly went out there to see the expansive gardens and sculptures/fountains. Unfortunately, in spring time, nothing is in bloom and the fountains are turned off. We did go out on the lake in a row boat, and push our way through the crowds of people in the palace and see some really cool stuff. When were done…we were getting hungry. We hit the train back to Paris and headed straight for the bar. On the way we made reservations at Le Comptoir, the five-course pre-fix menu started seating at 7:30. Good wine and cheese were in the forecast. We sat down and cozied up under the warm blankets again and watched passersby and ordered a bottle of pinot noir. The scene was set for the best meal of our trip. The bread they put out was crusty and fresh. The first was a Cremeux de petit pois et perle du Japon Chair de tourteaux. It tasted like a split pea soup with tasty ham and a warm, foamy texture. On the plate were two cheesy gougeres, ideal for dipping. The sun started to set and traffic slowed on the street. The wine flowed as we awaited the next course. Soon came a steaming bowl of clam and truffle risotto topped with grilled asparagus and parm chip. Holy shit, dude…that was money. I licked the bowl. The pace of the meal quickened as our next course wafted up to the table. The first artichoke of the season was nicely charred over breaded veal. The sauce was an a jus pistou, which tasted like veal demi and pesto. A thin cracker was the perfect garnish: deliciously functional. I was proud of Kate, she almost cleaned her plate. We caught our breath for a minute while our server cleared. More wine was poured and we giggled and chatted. Suddenly, there was enough cheese for 30 people. Seriously. A huge silver platter of assorted fromages, jams and house made jellies. There was no way two people could eat this cheese, and just the idea of it was one of the greatest dining experiences of my life. Gluttony in it’s highest form. The cheese was at perfect temperature, from stinking logs to thick chunks from hard wheels. We gorged ourselves on unpasteurized cheesiness. We ate until I thought I would burst. People on the sidewalk gawked at the display. If I ever have to die one day, I hope it happens while eating raw-milk cheese. I could go out like that. Reluctantly, we finally waved the platter away, our server spun it around and put it on the table right next to us. Viva la France. Incredibly, they then brought dessert. A tall wedge of Valrhona milk chocolate mousse cake with a minty sorbet and an impossibly thin cookie. The Chef, Yves Camdeborde, popped out onto the sidewalk and asked about our meal. We smiled and nodded and thanked him for the best one we’d had in Paris. We headed back to Bar Dix and it’s Nirvana playing jukebox. We drank sangria and laughed at ourselves until we got sleepy.