Le Coucou

French.  Thirteen years ago, an American chef opened a French restaurant in Paris. The food was so good, the experience so indelible, any return visit left me thinking how terrific it would be if only he would do that here. Well he has. And it is.

Not to oversell, but everything about Le Coucou is beautiful. The seamlessly choreographed open kitchen, artfully distressed high ceilings and backlit bottles at the bar are just a few of the compelling elements that compose the stunning design. Something about being seated within these mellow walls inspired feelings of joy and I hadn’t yet tasted a morsel.

About that.

Each course, each dish, each bite a reminder of this chef’s wizardry and vision. My indulgence began with grilled lobster refreshed with lime, exotic pears, mustard vinaigrette. A truly unconventional testament to everything a salad could be when brilliantly masterminded.

Their crépinette, a chicken fois gras and roasted fruit creation. I defy anyone to recall a more memorable or original interpretation.

The entrées, too, are otherworldly. Both the halibut (beurre blanc, fermented daikon) and Colorado lamb (grilled chop, onions and mint, neck braised with chard neck) light years beyond expectation.

Then there’s the bouillabaisse. Black bass, eel and stuffed squid vie for attention in the traditional fish soup. So generous is the seafood, you’ll be left with more to be happily ladled later.

How do you end such a meal, one that sets the bar so incredibly high? For me, the answer was twice. Their gateau au chocolat Coucou (chocolate mousse, white coffee ice cream) paradise found.

For something completely different, the omelette Norvegienne (pistachio ice cream, flambee a l’eau de vie) as much a treat for the eyes as the tongue.

Clearly everything about this experience is.

And the sooner you get here, the better your world will be.