If food is culture, then Paris' restaurants are as worthy as her museums

I've just spent three days regaling you with tales of Paris' rich sightseeing opportunities. But I have a confession: My priority in Paris these days isn't the culture. It's the food. Yes, the museums, architecture and history are always going to please me. But the more I've seen and the older I get ... aka the more financially secure I become, thus able to afford the dining ... the more my mind turns to restaurants, menus, and whether it's appropriate to treat cheese with a sacred reverence usually reserved for prayer. (Yes. See photo at right.)

This trip, I planned ahead. Thanks to internet sites like Top Table and Trip Advisor, it's possible to do loads of research and make reservations in advance. Checking out menus and contemplating choices from the thousands of restaurants on offer was half the fun. Of our main meals (three dinners and one lunch), we booked three in advance and left one to chance. All four were delicious and I would happily return to any of them, though they ended up occupying very different niches. And we can't quite agree on a favourite, because we each liked different bits at each place. So let's do the roundup in price order.

Topping the list in the heart-stoppingly expensive category is La Truffiere, deep in the heart of the university district. On line reviews called it a "bistro" and categorised the price as 45-55 per person, much in line with the other places I'd booked. I chose it for our first night, fresh in from the airport and ready to relax. Walking through the door to be greeted by magnificently polite, formally dressed staff was clue No. 1 this might be a touch more upscale than planned. Clue No. 2: the little footstool proffered for my handbag. And then the menus came. Mine with no prices, Piers' triggering a distinct draining of blood from his face. Yup, we'd gotten more than we'd bargained for. Though they don't have a Michelin star, you're at that level and paying those prices. (Plan on £150 per person for 3 courses with wine.)

Was it worth it? Probably. Exquisite food with some innovative twists, presented in beautiful ways by an attentive staff in a cozy, candle-lit stone crypt. La Truffiere ranks high on the list of best restaurants for an intimate, romantic dinner. We just regretted that we hadn't planned for it. We would have dressed up, scheduled it as our last dinner rather than our first, and perhaps gone for cheaper options on other nights to compensate for the price. (As it is, we'll just have to trim the grocery budget for the rest of the month!) So, what did we get for our money?

We started with an amuse bouche of cauliflower soup with a carrot emulsion in the centre, presented to look like like half an egg. Not usually a fan of cauliflower, I could easily have polished off a whole bowl. My first course was classic French with Asian influences: a delicate piece of foie gras sandwiched between two wafer thin seaweed biscuits with a piece of miso bread on the side which served as a surprisingly delightful palate cleanser. But it was the langoustine ravioli across the table, topped with shavings of truffle and a seafood foam, that won the contest for this course. I went on to a stew of confit duck leg with truffles; high end comfort food. He went for suckling pig, exquisitely presented three ways. My chef's menu included a desert of his choice, a chestnut paste parfait with green tea ice cream which was tolerable (that's saying a lot, as green tea is one of the few tastes I really detest) but not a huge success. Piers' wander through the impressive cheese board was more of a triumph, distinguished by an unusual variety mixed with beer and rolled in paprika.

Saturday and Sunday evenings were far more manageable in cost but, this being Paris and the euro being extremely strong, it's still best for a couple to plan on 150 t0 180 for three courses and wine. Keeping in mind that the wine and the preceding aperitifs are likely to account for up to half of that, if you're lingering at the table for three hours and want to drink something nice.

Saturday was back to Roger La Grenouille (see 4.12.09), which didn't fare so well on second exposure. Partially, I'm sure, due to the magnificent levels of the night before, and partly due to rather average main courses. Those were a classic steak frites for him and a venison stew for me. Good, but nothing to write home about. The starters were far better, with me returning to the same trio of foie gras that had impressed me the year before, and the man having his foie gras fresh, pan fried and served up on toasted brioche with caramelised apples. The puddings here were the best of the trip, with Piers' rhum baba coming with a bottle of rum for him to help himself, while my mille feuille with chocolate layers and pistachio cream was the stuff of fantasy.

The next night we switched gears and tried Moroccan, figuring that the French imperial past probably meant this cuisine would be as good here as curry is in London. L'Atlas is a beautifully decorated place (think Arabic palace, awash with fountains, tile work and intricately patterned white plasterwork) on the Rue St. Germain near the Pont de la Tournelle. My sweet tooth makes me fond of the sweet and savoury combinations in North African cooking, and I've never tasted it better than here. I started out with a foie gras bastilla, a wacky but highly successful combination of French and African cuisines. I certainly wouldn't try replicating this at home, as I would never willfully deep fry an ingredient this expensive, but I have to admit the result was exquisite, and my best starter of the trip. I'm afraid the man's spicy crab pastries couldn't compare. My tagine of pigeon and prunes was a bit of a miscalculation; exquisite flavours but it's a bird that's so difficult to eat it's nearly impossible to get off the bone. I really should have just gone for lamb.

The real winner was the lamb couscous across the table, served with high drama and generous quantity. Out came what I can only describe as a silver punch bowl, filled with a rich chicken soup laden with carrots and celery. A separate plate held a massive slab of barbecued lamb. Beside that, three dishes held spicy harissa paste, plump rehydrated raisins and almonds. And in front of Piers was placed a mound of fluffy couscous. To which the waiter added the vegetables and several ladles of broth, before mixing the last ladle with the harissa to make a rose-coloured wash. Next the meat, then a sprinkling of the raisins and almonds. Gorgeous. All this was complimented by a magnificent Moroccan red wine so good we had a second bottle. Which means I can't tell you too much about the plate of pastries that ended the meal, other than that they added to the general sense of well being and comfort that propelled us homeward that night.

Our only unplanned meal of the trip was the man's favourite, mostly due to a steak tartare that was the best either of us have tasted. (And he's quite the connoisseur of this dish.) The Royal Turenne is a classic Parisian bistro a block west of the Place des Voges in the Marais, heaving with French custom despite its highly touristy location. We were packed in like sardines and service was slow due to the few waiters handling the crowd. But they were genial, the food was good, their wine picks were spot on and the prices were the lowest of the weekend. My wild boar stew was just average compared to many versions I've enjoyed in Tuscany, but was filling enough to be the only meal of the day. Back in Basingstoke that evening I couldn't even contemplate eating. Really, I should be launching myself into a rather serious austerity campaign.

Unfortunately for my diet, but luckily for you, dear readers, I'm back in France next week. And the diary for the rest of the year looks packed with fun ... including a Michelin-starred Thanksgiving dinner. So come back soon to share more culinary and touristic delights.