Fancy France

With cooking school over, I register with the midway found and fancy Hotel Fouquet's Barriere

(46 parkway George V), simply off the Champs-Elysees, for some Old World neighborliness. The attendant solicits me what kind from nibble and refreshment I might want on landing, and additionally the temperature I might want, the sort of music I need playing (French pop, s'il vous plait), and even the shade of roses I incline toward.

The room is roomy and brilliant, and I'm offered a glass of natural champagne. As lilting French music plays, I lie on the love seat and snack on a plate of foie gras, bread, olives, and nuts. Without precedent for perpetually, I'm totally casual.

I could sob with satisfaction however rather set off for some shopping.

When I return, I almost

Cook'n With Class Chef Eric Fraudeau readies a fish terrine (front) and pork charcuterie.

Trip organizer

screech when I see the cautious turndown administration complete with macarons, chocolate, and jugs of Evian by the bed. Every visitor has an alloted head servant, at the same time, feeling unbalanced, I approach just for an arrangement of weights conveyed to my room and help booking my train tickets for a trek to the Champagne area.

That night, my companion and I go out for our one victory formal dinner at Fouquet's (99 parkway des Champs-Elysees), the more-than-

100-year-old brasserie. It's connected to the inn and has windows watching out on the Champs-Elysees. Fouquet's hosts the yearly Cesar Awards supper, France's form of the Oscars. It's the sort of spot where your tote gets its own stool and you get reproving searches for taking photographs of your sustenance.

I begin with a plate of mixed greens of vegetables shaved into long strips and brac-ingly new crab. Next is ocean bream (a white fish local to Europe) and razor shellfishes on a bed of nutty bulgur wheat. Treat is the eatery's popular raspberry Napoleon. The supper takes four hours, however I appreci-ate each languorous chomp.

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