Back when I was younger and fitter – and, frankly, irresponsible – I accidentally signed up for the Paris Marathon one evening after we’d had a few drinks. Luckily, I wasn’t alone; my wife and two of our friends were also full of wine and bravado and, since none of us wanted to back down, there we were. The marathon went as well as can be expected, considering it was France, where they give you small cups of hot wine around the 38 km stage (seriously? wine?). We all survived, felt suitably chuffed with ourselves and spent the next day creaking around Paris looking for somewhere to sit down. This is when we found a little bistro on the Île Saint-Louis where we had a classic lunch of onion soup, beef bourguignon and then these lovely orange blossom crèmes brûlées. The crème brûlée was fantastic and here it is… well, as close as I can get to it after seven years of trying.