High brow. Low budget. Camdeborde.

Inelegant as they are, hangovers do happen. To my credit, these days it's more often Monsieur Lassaigne's fault than Señor Cuervo's.

In the absence of a greasy spoon remedy à la Denny's, the best cure I've found here in Paname is a crêpe. A crêpe complète to be precise. The recipe? At least two generous handfuls of emmenthal cheese, slap on some ham, hold together with a fried egg and stuff into a crispy-round-the-edges crêpe. The thing works wonders.

Now, there is a lot of hubbub over the criteria of what makes an excellent crêpe. Some people look for crêpes cooked evenly from the bullseye to the edges. Detail-oriented types will notice if the griddle is buttered or oiled (butter, of course, the preferred lubricant). Others will not go near halal, or porkless, crêpes.

I want my crêpe to look like a doily. I want it to be crispy around the edges and not drip out the end like an overstuffed burrito. I want fresh batter, ham that hasn't been sitting in Tupperware for a week, and freshly grated Swiss cheese if remotely possible.

The complète at L'Avant Comptoir is, to me, just short of an epiphany. The crêperie and wine-bar adjacent to the famous Le Comptoir restaurant in Saint Germain is a stroke of genius and act of compassion by Mr. Bistro - Yves Camdeborde. Genius for not compromising on quality ingredients or service at what appears to be an ordinary crêperie at first glance. Compassion for creating a Camdebordeian antechamber to Le Comptoir, where I hope to be reincarnated as a plate.

Back to the crêpe. No, the galette (crêpe = white flour, sweetened; galette = buckwheat flour, unsweetened).

Hallelujah. The batter is fresh. The ham? Count on Camdeborde ham to be a few steps above the rest. I can pretend that the emmenthal is freshly grated. The egg does not drip. Most importantly, the outer edges of the galette look like starched lace while the middle is just the right thickness to contain the whopper.

This thing is a meal. My pupils dilate as the crêpier hands it over and says, "you won't be needing dinner after this one".

Nope. Just a little pepper and an extra Tylenol.

Montant à payer
5 euro

L'Avant Comptoir
3, Carrefour de l'Odéon
75006
Métro: Odéon (4, 10)
Hours 7/7 12pm-11pm

Banh'd for life.

The St. Bernard wins this photo. Not the sandwich, sadly.

I'm embarrassed that it took me this long to lose it. I mean, my friends said it was so good. They couldn't understand why I hadn't tried it yet. Parents, prepare the earmuffs. Today I gave up my Vietnamese sandwich virginity.

I wasn't sure what to expect. Sure I'd thought about the combination of crusty bread filled with fresh herbs, savory pork who-knows-what, slathered in sauce. But the sandwich was intimidating. Even the word banh mi sounded so unfamiliar and potentially uncomfortable.

My selection process was rigorous (only fitting for an important event in a girl's life).

In Paris, most Vietnamese dining establishments are found in inner sanctum of the 13th arrondissement. Too far for a lazy Saturday. I'm a picky lass but I have geographical limits.

Clotilde's blog suggested a little place by Belleville that was applauded by the blogosphere. Hiking up rue Faubourg du Temple was an adventure in itself, complete with festive pink projectile vomit across the street.

Appetite bolstered, I found Saigon Sandwich just off the main drag. Taking the shabby storefront as an indication of authenticity, I left with a banh mi aux boulettes de porc swinging happily in a plastic bag.

I quivered with anticipation, a lion in my stomach and just a twinge of nerves as I unsheathed the banh mi from its paper wrapper. I had been advised to let the sandwich marinate a few minutes to let the juices permeate the bread.

Let's just say, two minutes later I was not a satisfied consumer. Crusty baguette. Check. Fresh grassy cilantro. Check. Minced pork parts swimming in sauce...Blank. The sandwich left me on the edge of fulfillment yet wanting more.

I thought to myself, "Self, this calls for a banh mi dating game." Yes! I will sample and reward the banh mi who..um..completes me.

As for Saigon Sandwich, I'll chalk it up to the changement de propriétaire notice on the front door. If I were ravenous near Belleville, I'd try another version at Saigon. Especially for 3 euros.

There must be a special Vietnamese sandwich for everyone in this city. But like Diana Ross said, you can't hurry love.

Montant à payer
3 euro

Saigon Sandwich
8, rue de la Présentation
75011
Métro: Belleville (2)
Mon-Sat 10am-6pm; Sun 10am-2pm