The concepts of time, calories and overindulgence do not exist at the Petit Trois marble counter. Ludo Lefebvre created a place of pure excess that operates uninhibited by such conventions. Mounds of blush chicken liver mousse dwarf thick slices of toast shellacked with butter. A stark white sauce au vin jaune cascades over cylinders of leeks, a celebration of the sharp, pungent wine. Lighter but just as lavish is the crab cake supreme, plump and drowning in sweet and salty nuoc mam. Lunch at the counter always seems to stretch lazily into the afternoon, my attention alternating between my plate and the chefs arranging double cheeseburgers in pools of Bordelaise. You can have the burger, crab cakes and the rest at Petit Trois’ spacious Sherman Oaks location, but I prefer the original, where I can pretend I’m in a cramped, impossibly chic Paris bistro in the 6th arrondissement. — J.H.

718 N. HIGHLAND AVE., LOS ANGELES, (323) 468-8916 l PETITTROIS.COM/LORIGINAL