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Our first time in Cabo San Lucas, situated on the southernmost tip of the Baja California peninsula, we knew it would be more margaritas and less Mayan ruins. This is a sun-and-fun getaway for Americans: you can use dollars interchangeably with pesos, you’ll find both Costco and a luxury shopping mall, and it seems almost every visitor we spoke to owned a time share. And if you don’t own a time share, there is someone with a clipboard who would like to speak with you.

In case you haven’t heard, Tijuana is the next big thing in food. Not only have people in the know been frequenting Baja for years, but the media finally caught on, too. Anthony Bourdain, Rick Bayless, and Andrew Zimmern made recent trips with camera crews in tow, and media darling Javier Plascencia was profiled by the New Yorker and the New York Times for innovative cuisine served in a modern glass box above the city’s rainbow-colored bungalows.

Of all the restaurant reservations we had in Paris, Le Chateaubriand was the hardest to get, and the one I was most looking forward to. It’s the darling du jour in the food world: Anthony Bourdain called Basque chef Iñaki Aizpitarte a “genius” on “No Reservations”; any Paris article from the New York Times in the last year mentioned it in the first few sentences; and the restaurant was ranked 11th in the world in 2010 (skyrocketing up from 40th the year before), beating New York’s Le Bernardin (15) and (say what?) Napa’s the French Laundry (32). Adding to the fever pitch was the general consensus that Chef Aizpitarte is part of a new food movement among French chefs who are looking to cook Michelin star–quality food, but in a relaxed bistro environment. We were reserved for the first night we arrived. And then it started to snow in Paris. And then the airport started canceling flights. And, yes, then our flight—sob—from Los Angeles.

Once in a while I did look up from my dinner plate and photograph some other scenes of Paris. Here, “experimental cocktails” at the Curio Parlor. On my first real trip to this city (passing through with a backpack at age 20 didn’t count), I found a lovely and welcoming place that I hope to visit again soon (of course, my Québec-born hair stylist will tell me it’s because all the real Parisians were on holiday vacation!).

Passage 53 was our last major reservation of the trip. We had been buttered, basted, and foie gras’d the past week and thought we had seen all the tricks. But we were about to be blown away. As mentioned, it was all hands on deck with my family making sure we found the best eateries in Paris. We sifted through magazine top 10 guides and newspaper write-ups, consulted friends, compared notes, and honed the list (you may have realized food is a blood sport in my family by now). This one came highly recommended by my brother’s colleague working in Paris: “A Japanese chef who has worked in France for many years; in one of Paris’s most charming covered galleries; one of the city’s best-kept secrets.”

Besides the fancy French landmark restaurants we had on our radar, we also hit up some good (and not so good) casual eateries in Paris. Here, two of my favorites: Le 404, a cozy Moroccan place recommended by my Paris-based friend and her Moroccan husband; and Café de l’Alma, recommended by our hotel on New Year’s Day (hair of the dog, anyone?)

As I mentioned, living in Italy for three years made me captain of Team Olive Oil, not Team Butter, so I wanted to seek out some experts to give me a crash course on Parisian food 101. Enter Context Travel, a collection of specialists in food, architecture, history, and culture who lead groups on walking tours throughout Europe (and a few U.S. cities, too). We were paired up with local food writer Barbra Austin, who had cooked at NYC’s Prune, among other places, and made the move to Paris to pursue pastry studies. From the Seine, we traveled south on the posh Rue du Bac toward edible temptation.

Just as Taillevent lost its third Michelin star in 2007, so did Le Cinq, the 10-year-old crown jewel at the Four Seasons George V hotel. A few Paris insiders told me they thought the food had declined recently. In fact, in the months leading up to this trip I’d heard about a movement by young French chefs who were trading Michelin Guide ratings and hard-wired traditions for (arguably) equally great food served in a more relaxed environment; perhaps it was having its effect. Plus, given the economy, how many people are putting places like Taillevent and Le Cinq in their restaurant rotation? But enough chitchat; let’s eat!

If you think I’m foodcentric, you should meet my family. Discussions about where we should eat in Paris and who would make the reservation went on for months beforehand. Some woke up at ungodly hours to catch a hostess who would (maybe) answer the line before service started. Some wrote countless emails to hotel concierges. But, finally, here we were on Christmas Eve (just barely, after flight cancellations due to snow) and we would enjoy our first proper French dinner.

Nomiya, an art-meets-food installation on top of Paris’s Palais de Tokyo, is one hot ticket. My sister-in-law, Yuko, had Jeopardy-button-pushing dexterity in order to secure this lunch reservation from—of all places—eBay. Availability was gone in less than a minute. Meant to be a temporary exhibit by French artist Laurent Grasso (hence the “limited-time fever”), it has been extended indefinitely: 12 strangers dining at one intimate table dangling above the Seine. It is most certainly more stunning at night, when Paris is illuminated beneath, but lunch had its artistic intrigue as well.