Up until this point, I would swear up and down that Pierre Gagnaire was my favorite chef in Paris. While I am still a huge fan, the best meal of my life was prepared by Chef Yannick Alleno and his staff at Le Meruice. The restaurant's newly acquired third Michelin star has certainly launched the dining room to almost unbelievable heights.

I ate at Le Meruice about three months ago and marveled at how beautiful and flavorful the food was. Wanting Fabrice to experience the beauty of colors and flavors, I eagerly booked a second reservation for lunch. I had no idea that we were in for the experience of a life time.

Dressed to the nines, we arrived promptly at 12:30 PM. Walking through the restaurant's glass doors, we were warmly greeted by the most professional and pleasant wait staff I have ever encountered. During our meal, it was like watching a carefully choreographed dance performance. Without as much as a single word, graceful waiters and waitresses glided across the marble floors in perfect time with each other. Dishes were set in front of us at the same time, silver domes pulled off plates at the exact same moment, and silverware discretely replaced after each course. Genuine smiles planted themselves firmly on each person's face - it was evident that people here really enjoyed what they were doing. It was art.

We both began with a slim, elegant flute of rose champagne. Although Deutz is not my favorite producer, the bubbly wine was perfectly chilled and felt alive in our mouths. As we were perusing the well crafted menu, our amuse bouches arrived. Nestled in a spotless martini glass was a light radish jelly, accompanied by a blanc manger with radish essence, and a few paper thin slivers of radish. Finished in two bites, a supreme concoction of flavors and textures, our taste buds were awakened to the possibility of what was to come. We both chose the degustation menu consisting of seven inventive, and breathtakingly beautiful, courses.

I love morels. When I was younger, my dad used to take us up into the forest to forge for morels at the base of pine trees. Somehow he always knew where to find a bumper crop. Our first dish arrived with much celebration and ceremony: sauteed morels in a white wine sauce with a stuffed, braised romaine. In the first bite, I knew instantly these morels were ultra fresh, never frozen, and the flavor was pure and clean. There wasn't a hint of grit normally associated with the morel, and the tiny grooved surface of the mushroom held the sautee juices perfectly. I savored each one, not wanting the dish to end.

For our second course, we were presented with two gorgeous asparagus spears, sprinkled with flowers and accompanied by a citrus honey vinaigrette. Two simple blanc mangers graced the plate with a simple sauce laced with vanilla grains. I could barely touch the dish with my fork since it was so beautiful, but my hunger one out. The delicate vinaigrette brought the perfectly peeled and cooked asparagus to a whole new level of pleasure. If vegetables tasted like this as a kid, maybe I would have eaten more! (Just kidding mom - you're a great cook!)

Asparagus quickly dispatched, our next course arrived a few moments later. A small sea bass filet was tightly swaddled in a cloak of spinach leaves and rested on a bed of fava beans, new potatoes, and gently roasted garlic. It was simply perfect. I ate every last bite.

For our main course, we had a choice between veal or pigeon. We both chose the veal loin which had been poached in a broth that rendered the morsels unbelievably soft and a perfect rose throughout. Again our plates were graced with morels, but this time they accompanied a rich risotto and a few decorative flakes of gold leaf.

Being rather full at this time and realizing we still had three more courses to go, I didn't eat one of the pieces of veal. Yes, I know that's a tragedy. I tried desperately to pass it off to Fabrice, but he was just as full as me. When the Maitre D' came to take away our plates, I could tell he was disappointed with my performance - or lack thereof. He asked me if I didn't like the dish, and I heartily assured him that was not the case. He then asked if we'd like to take a small break before the next course arrived. This is why I love the French. They are so civilized, especially when it comes to eating.

A relaxing 15 minutes later, we began our steady progress through the tasting menu again. To cleans our palets and prepare us for dessert, we were presented with a lovely and uncomplicated salad of warm banon cheese with sun dried tomatoes, olives and arrugula. Simple and elegant at the same time.

And now the grand finale. I had read about our first dessert in the book 4 Saison A La Table No 5 (Five Seasons at Table 5) that I purchased during my last meal here. Gariguette strawberries were topped with impossibly light triangles of citrus soufflé. Gracefully scattered around the plate were tiny fresh flowers and to the left of the plate was a vanilla cream topped with a caviar of fruit. I ate this dessert so slowly so I could relish in all its flavors.

Our second dessert was a visual masterpiece, but crashed and burned once it hit our taste buds. A beautifully crafted caramel sphere encased a molasses mascarpone cream. Although a stunning presentation, one bite and I was finished. The cream was bitter and failed to make my taste buds celebrate. Scattered to the side were three lightly warm citrus flavored madeleines which I did enjoy.

After our dessert plates had been cleared, Fabrice and I smiled at each other, sighed and leaned back in our lush chairs. It had been a very memorable meal, worth the rather high price tag. All the dishes were beautifully presented, the service flawless, and the flavors outstanding. The only chinks in the armor were the dessert and a rather unsuccessful red wine pairing with the veal. Other than than, our meal was splendid.

As we waited a few minutes to allow or stomachs to digest before asking for the bill, another set of silverware appeared at the table. We both looked at each other quizzically because there were only two desserts with our tasting menu and neither of us had ordered anything else. Our confusion was quickly vaporized when out rolled three gorgeously polished wooden carts. One held a whole array of martini glasses, glass jars, and silver platters. Each receptacle contained something different and unidentifiable. The second cart held several dishes and serving pieces. The third a slab of marble with two off white cylinders lying on their sides. What on earth was taking place?

The Maitre D' arrived and positioned himself behind the second cart. Earlier we had spoken to him about my internships at Guy Savoy and Pierre Herme and Fabrice's job at Guy Savoy. We then realized this was a special dessert just for us because we were in the industry.

He slipped on a pair of perfectly spotless white gloves, and the show began. In all that is spectacular and splendid, he plated four new desserts based on the theme of raspberry, rhubarb and yogurt. Tears sprung to my eyes as I watched his graceful and practiced hands create four masterpieces for the two of us. A small, delicate china cup held a confit of rhubarb, a confit of raspberry and a gentle yogurt base. Another plate held raspberry cream filled raspberries on a bed of gold leaf with yogurt meringues and dried rhubarb. The off white cylinders turned out to be rhubarb stalks roasted in a sugar crust that had to be tapped open with a silver hammer. And the final dessert was a joyful raspberry ravioli with yogurt ice cream and dried rhubarb.

It was exquisite. It was ethereal. Best of all, it was free!

Plates cleared away, we sighed for the second time and agreed it was the best meal either of us had ever eaten. What a joy. What an honor. What an experience.

I doubt I will ever eat anything so wonderful again.

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