On our way home to the US from Spain via Paris (shouldn't all sentences start that way), my friend Elaine popped over from NY to meet us for a few days of pleasurable gluttony and a bit of sightseeing as time permitted.

Steve and I arrive the night before Elaine, and are fixin' for some of our French favorites, after being in Spain for two months. A long day of travel (how can that be from northern Spain to Paris...but alas it is) is quickly forgotten after seeing our delightful hotel in a fab location. It's raining in Paris and the streets look simply picturesque. We jump out of our cab, hit the wet cobblestones and duck through the black lacquered entry doors to our hotel, past the quaintly manicured hedges in front. We step onto white marble floors and are immediately transported into Paris. Voila! It is a lovely boutique hotel with a fantastically eclectic, yet expressly designed motif of whites, blacks & yellows - mixing French flair of toiles and intricate chandelier medallions with a surplus turn-of-the-century British Indian and delicate Oriental decorations. It's fabulously cozy!

After a quick glass of Moet & Chandon, the concierge sends us down a few blocks to a local bistro. They are quite full so we're put in what initially appears to be a poor table in the corner behind an enormous pillar, up front next to the window. After sipping another glass of champagne, we decide it's the most romantic seat in the house. It's made private by the pillar and the window has sweet curtains half way up as to block us from being looked at, but just enough so we can see the shiny street outside.

The menu was a coming-home of sorts; duck, foie gras, lentils... Needless to say it was hard to choose that first night, but we ended up with mushroom raviolis in a cheese sauce (no, not very French but unbelievably tasty), lamb shank for Steve and the veal for me. It was a perfect re-entry into France. Now back to the hotel to slip into the featherbed for a long yummy sleep.

At the crack of 9:00 we opened our eyes, brushed our teeth and headed down for our breakfast. Typical European buffet; croissants, breads, cold cuts, cheeses, yogurts, dried fruit, muesli, etc. Our hotel had an additional special treat of a hot plate everyday. Melt-in-your-mouth scrambled eggs or a lovely 3-minute egg sitting in its little cup. On the other side delicious caramelly fried sausages or bacon and sometimes pancakes or a creamy mushroom sauce. Needless to say we didn't often start out until about noon. However, this morning we were ready a bit early, expecting Elaine around 11:00. Screams, hugs, kisses, champagne. And then we're off to explore the city. So, we make our way out to George V and do a little strolling a few blocks to the Arc de Triomphe. It's one of those quintessential moments in Paris, watching the traffic zip by while suspended on a traffic median, slowly making our way around the monument, feeling the magnitude of it all.

Then of course we took the saunter down the Champs de Elysee, wrapped in our scarves and toting umbrellas. We drink it all in sights, the leaves barely hanging onto the trees lining the streets, the intricate wrought iron on all of the balconies, the quant cafes with tables and chairs out on the sidewalk with bundled up couples drinking espressos. Of course we drink in the splendors of fashion as well and even make our way into Louis Vuitton for a little close-up sightseeing. But after coming to my senses (i.e., Steve going over the logistics of a purchase and our current "fixed income" situation), I passed on a lovely handbag and wallet. (Our luggage are each just tipping the 23 kilo limit, besides the fact that the VAT is nearly 25% in Paris and I'll be in sales tax-free Portland soon enough, oh and not to mention that the euro is fairly strong lately). Whatever!

Well, our dogs are tired and besides, it's time for a wine lunch. Our concierge makes another great recommendation to a bistro similar to Oscar's but over the bridge. Fabulous, we haven't taken that walk yet, so we're happy to make our way over there. We find ourselves in a sweet little neighborhood and come upon our chosen restaurant. We squeeze into the bar area where they ask us to wait until a table opens up. No problem, we'll start with a bottle of Cotes du Bourg. Soon our table is ready and we wedge ourselves into the little banquette in the corner. I'm excited for Elaine's first meal in Paris since she was a child. Baguettes and brie! Tout suite! I order our starters and entrées. Oeufs sil vous plait. Pardone Madame? We'll have the oeufs please. He's puzzled. I try again...the oeufs...again with the puzzled look. Finally, I point to the oeufs on the chalkboard. Ah, oui madame, the oeufs. Isn't that what I just said? I look at my mates. Apparently I am no linguist. Whatever, I'm getting my damn oeufs. Along with our oeufs, we have the foie gras, leg of crispy duck and Steve has the plat du jour, chicken with the MOST buttery mashed potatoes. When finally finished we stagger back to the hotel in a happy fog to do a little more relaxing on the couch.

So, we make our way off the couch to do more meandering up and down the streets of Paris and low and behold it's evening. Back again to our hotel to put our feet up in the relaxing lounge area, settling into the cozy couches and diving into a split of champagne. What shall we have for dinner tonight? We're dog-tired and so we're agreed that it should be somewhere within walking distance and casual. Well, it's Friday night, the prime-eating hour, and we haven't thought to make reservations. We stop by a happening Italian bistro and get a quick, "no Madame, not without a booking". It has a great atmosphere and smells wonderful so we make a reservation for tomorrow night. Well, Oscar's is around the corner and it was delicious last night so we head there again. Can't knock a good thing. We walk in...welcome back Messieurs (and friend? Hmm. He gives us the look of "when in France"...).

Tonight, we go for more foie gras and some Camembert to start things off. Next Steve settled on the delicate sea bass in olive oil with the potatoes gratin. He very expertly peeled off the skin to uncover the delicate white meat with just the hint of olive oil that added to the butteryness (that's not a word?? well, it should be). Elaine and I share the beouf with Bernaise that is cooked perfectly, not that I would notice under the heaps of Bernaise, which I couldn't help slapping on each bite. Oh and those cheesy potatoes. It was cream heaven! After a waddle back to the hotel, we have another great night's sleep under silky sheets and atop a fluffy featherbed. Wake me up when the coffee's ready.

The next morning, again at our very uncouth hour of 9:00, wearing sweats and last night's mascara, we go to breakfast. Sure we get a few stares from the freshly coifed, ready-for-action, fellow tourists, but what do I care? I'm American. And even though Elaine is British, she adds to our American stereotype by ordering her "Coke Light" rather than a proper tea. After downing more yogurt and muesli and pouring maple syrup over my raisin croissant, we head back upstairs to get ourselves ready for the day.

It's a slightly sunny day, in the middle of a rainy week, so we decide to walk along the Seine and make our way down to the Louvre. It was chilly enough to wear coats and scarves but our feet stayed dry and warm. After a long stroll and many photo ops - I'm now traveling with two photo bugs - we end up at the Louvre, more hungry than ready for an arduous trek around the daunting museum. So, we decide a bite is in order. It just so happens there is a lovely café that sits on a low balcony overlooking the Louvre atrium with a view of the hideous glass pyramid (no, still don't like it). It's a people-watching nirvana, not to mention fantastic faire.

We snuggle into our cozy table, are handed the menu, and I am instantly excited. This is café Karma for sure. A bottle of chilled Chablis and an espresso to start, please. (What goes up must come down and visa versa). Yes, we'll have the pumpkin soup, the oeufs, some chevre, and the spring rolls (? let's put them in the French-Asian cuisine column). The pumpkin soup had just a smattering of black truffles and then wispy slices of a strong romano shaved on top. I exhaustively tasted it in order to figure out how I might be able to recreate my own version, while nearly eating the whole thing myself. The chevre, Steve and Elaine were busy oohing and aahing over while I dipped into the perfectly soft boiled egg, which I doused with the accompanying truffle butter. Then I noticed that there were perfectly sliced long bits of baguette. So, my next move was to smear the toast with the truffle butter, then dip it into the sunshiney-egg. (At this point, I really do think your eyes can roll back into your head). Second bottle of Chablis and we're in for another hour or so. I see sea bass with lentils du puy make their way to another table. "Garcon, one for our table as well." While I got the, are-you-kidding-me look from my cohorts, we were successfully able to polish off the dish. Ha!

More long strolls and marveling at the sights, and it's time for dinner. We make our way back to our Italian bistro, where tonight we have a booking, and are welcomed in like we're their favorite locals. Our waiter is a transplanted Sardinian, who is more than happy to share with us what each dish is and how it's prepared. We start with a tomato and sausage gnocchi. It doesn't resemble the white pillowy gnocchis we're used to but is equally delicious (he explains that these are Sardinian-style). Then we have one of the specials, a pear and cheese risotto. Sounds very intriguing but could be a disaster. Nope! It was fantastic. Again, I found myself taking mental notes on how to replicate this dish. The rest of the meal was a bit of a blur...with a dish ordered here and there while lingering on our wine. When we look like we've finished our waiter asks if he can tempt us with any dessert. My companions quickly say no, and having had a bit of the grape, so to speak, I say "I'll look at the menu". Hmmm...what shall I have? The chocolate biscotti or the tirimisu? No, I think I'll have the veal carpaccio please. I get another are-you-kidding-me look from everyone but I reaffirm my order. Yes, please the veal carpaccio. So, after some of the most delicious veal and another glass of wine, I finally put down my fork. Our waiter, who I am positive, is so happy to see a hearty eater rather than the little French women he's used to, happily brings over dessert wine to finish off our great meal. (Pretty sure that was the straw that broke the camel's back). We get back to the hotel, how, I am not completely certain, but pictures show that we had a good time posing with a pink scooter and making silly faces. Safely in our room, I pop two aspirins take a long swig of Perrier and hit the sack, without my teeth brushed or makeup removed.

Sunday morning I am as pretty as you could imagine. Paris has taken it's toll but I'm no quitter. I down another bottle of water, slip on my "breakfast" sweatsuit, grab Elaine and we head down to eat yet another pile of food. It's bad. Coffee is making me sweat and I've had three mini-glasses of orange juice. I need some grease to clear my head. I pile my plate high with sausages and eggs. OK, much better, let's set off on our last day.

We have our sights set on the Musee D'Orsay. We made the walk yesterday while it was a bit sunny, so we think it's a breeze. Speaking of breeze, a walk along the Seine while it's rainy and "breezy" is no fun, even in Paris. But, we've already passed the Metro, there are no cabs in sight, so we forge on. Halfway there, as our hands are frozen and our noses are running, we find a café to slip into for some coffee. Well, coffee turns into a bite to eat and we find ourselves with chocolate crepes, onion soup (French of course) and a roasted chicken. Delightful.

We make our destination, have a lovely time strolling amongst the Van Gogh's, Monet's Cezanne's, Rodin's and even a Seurat, hoping to walk off the crepes and chicken. Tired again, we leave the D'Orsay and quickly find the taxi stand. Back to our hotel's cozy lounge for an aperitif and a recap of the day before dinner.

After our recuperation period (aka, Cocktail Hour), we hop back into a cab, off to our dinner destination, which is across the Seine from Notre Dame. It looks magical after a rainy day and with spotlights shining up on the enormous stained glass windows.

The taxi drops us off in front of our restaurant, which is in a picturesque cobblestone-lined neighborhood right off the Seine. It really was right out of a movie. We walk towards the door and are immediately greeted by waiters, welcoming us in. Well, well, isn't this special, I think.

We walk into the dining room and are immediately hit with the most wonderful smell coming from an enormous rotisserie that extends the entire length of the far wall. Oh, this is going to be good. Elaine and I give each other a quick glance, both of us with the same thing on our minds - I think we've hit the jackpot! After sitting down by the cozy stone fireplace, we order a glass of champagne to commemorate our last night (not like we need any excuse to drink champagne but this night was special). Now for the menu...I am a foodie as you all know, so when I spot Guy Savoy's name on the menu I squealed just a little. What?! Did we just stumble upon a restaurant of Guy Savoy's?? HELLO! Now I take even more time than I usually do with the menu, making sure my choices (oh and everyone else's too) are just perfect. It's bistro-style so our choices are limited, which is probably good. A kid has an easier time choosing from a couple of treats rather than sending him into a candy store. Yes, we'll start with the mushroom and pumpkins soups. Elaine chose the rotisserie chicken that we had been drooling over since we arrived, and Steve went for the steak with Bernaise - a wise choice, although they all were. I myself had to have one last taste of sea bass with French lentils, one of my favorites. We couldn't decide on a wine that would compliment all of the dishes so we ordered two bottles right out of the gate. I decided right then that all dinners should have three people. It's the perfect number for plate sharing and wine pairing.

We're stuffed but who can leave Paris without one last sweet. So, we order desserts. A pear crumble and a chocolate stream (I don't remember it's actual name but it came on a long slender "canoe" that with the chocolate sauce, looked like a stream). Our waiter brought us dessert wines, that topped off the sweets just perfectly.

Completely satisfied, we head back to our hotel for one last after-dinner drink. We play Elaine's game of "what was your high and what was your low today". It's simple but I love it because it quickly puts into perspective how wonderful life is and how truly lucky we are. No matter what day, Paris or not, it's usually difficult to choose your top "high". Try it. You'll see. Then, after discussing your "low" you realize how trivial your lows are in the big picture.

Thank you Elaine and Steve for making it a wonderful trip filled with great memories. Viva la France!