I spent one the finest nights of my life in Paris in the company of my late accountant, Marty Sigman. He had offered me a lift home after a party, and by a series of digressions I won't go into here, at 2 p.m. we ended up at a restaurant called Au Pied de Cochon ("At the Pig's Foot"), consuming a prodigious number of oysters and glasses of chablis at Marty's expense.
Full review here