Canelé. The morning after.

There are some experiences in life that elevate the bar so high that you can never view what you thought was good the same way again.

Like the first time you fly first class. Or the first time you slip into a bespoke suit. Or your first threesome.

Today I added to that list the first time you try the french toast at Canelé.

A 2″ thick round of toast, crispy and tasting almost baked on the outside, perfectly eggy and sweet, almost custardy, on the inside. So perfect that the addition of syrup would diminish its taste. Served with mascarpone and poached prunes, this is truly an indulgent brunch treat.

The duck confit hash topped with a fried duck egg was also phenomenally good. The amount of duck in the hash is generous, almost 50/50 I’d say, and deliciously good. Cut a mouthful with your fork, break the soft yolk of the sunny side up duck egg and dip the hash. Heaven.

The side of house cured bacon would have been a standout in any other brunch but was almost overlooked in this company. Almost, I said. But not.

A blood orange mimosa and a rhubarb lemonade rounded out this outstanding brunch.

The restaurant itself is charmingly rough hewn. All dark unpolished floorboards, exposed bricks and beams, heavy and high blood red walls, and a menu written in chalk on a blackboard wall. It’s a small space with a large communal table in the front window and smaller tables tucked around the two partially separated rooms. An open kitchen dominates the space.

And yet, on a Sunday morning, the space didn’t feel crowded or busy. On the contrary, it felt quiet and casual and neighborhoody.

No first class reservations are taken here and you can leave the bespoke suit at home.

Although a post-threesome morning after brunch at Canelé would be something special.

Either way, this is the best brunch I’ve experienced in LA.