This isn’t about sports. Nor journalism. Nor sports journalism.

(OK, wait. A tipsy Englishman sitting next to us, who decided to tell us about hedge-fund managers he has known, conceded to being a fan of Newcastle United. I expressed my deepest condolences. He thanked me.)

What this is really about … is just food and pictures thereof. Every dish from our meal at the one-star Michelin restaurant we had dinner at the other night.

Go to the photos here. This is from Leah’s facebook site.

This is from Le Violin d’Ingres … a Christian Constant restaurant not far from the Eiffel Tower, in the 7th arrondisement, where we went for Leah’s birthday.

And to think, several of us still think Tuna Helper makes a pretty tasty dinner. No. Really.

I had the cassoulet. A lot of food there. Which is why I didn’t order an entree or a dessert. Though our party of five did a lot of grazing, so I felt as if I did have a dessert and an entree. Britt, who is 22, actually ordered foie gras for her entree, and if she can eat it … I guess I can, too, which is more or less what she said. So, finally, had a bite of foie gras for the first time, after avoiding it for a couple of decades … and it was OK.  The cassoulet was better.

Britt had a great dessert, as well, chocolate pudding atop a hard chunk of extra-dark chocolate.

Everyone was making “yummy” sounds throughout the meal.  And the service was impeccable, from the moment the maitre d’ said he remembered Leah and our friend from previous visits (charming, whether he was telling the truth or not) right up to when we were 30 yards out of the front door and the maitre d’ came running after us with a driver’s license one of us had dropped under the table and left behind.

Great place. I recommend it, though I am not a foodie.

This is the sort of meal that is nice to do once during a visit to Paris. The dress-up, multi-course, familiar yet exotic meal.