A beautiful story. Or rather: a truly beautiful story — one we’d never dream of measuring solely by the yardstick of success. On everyone’s lips, young and old, industry insiders and outsiders alike, Le Doyenné has been a talking point for quite some time, even before it officially opened its doors. But as the French would say: kes-que-zé Le Doyenné? Literally, “the Deanery.” A stately historic estate transformed into one of the most stunning destination restaurants in the world. And as if that weren’t enough, it’s also a boutique hotel with unique rooms and suites — each different, each sublime. But above all, it is a working farm restaurant: a sweeping, extraordinary garden stretching as far as the eye can see, open fields cultivated with every hallmark of sustainability, with the ethos of responsible dining firmly at the top of its priorities.

Hey, Hey — Hold Your Horses. Don’t run off, and don’t turn your nose up. We swear, this isn’t some hipster gimmick. We’re not in one of those joints that surf the buzzwords of the day, all twee and self-conscious, just to run with the not-so-wild pack — the flock of sheep blindly chasing the feel-good, right-thinking, PR-friendly gospel.

Introducing: James (Henry) & Shaun (Kelly). They’ve built themselves a made-to-measure life — one that suits them perfectly and suits us even better. The road from their native Australia to the outskirts of the French capital was a long one. Sleeves rolled up, it took them, door to door, pretty much a lifetime. Don’t do as they did to find out that the dream of Le Doyenné is, for you, within easy reach. Cut to the chase, go for the simplest route. From Paris, dodge the rush hour that bleeds into dinner time, and in barely half an hour you can be there — straight in — with a Green Uber. Otherwise, you’ll be stuck taking the métro, catching the first RER C heading toward Saint Martin d’Étampes and the Parisian south. Then hopping off at Bouray station, waiting for a taxi (and yes, in hindsight you’ll admit you should have booked it), which will drop you at the door in under five minutes. Unless, of course, you prefer mens sana in corpore sano — and to work up an appetite — in which case you can hoof it from Bouray’s railway tracks, a brisk forty minutes on foot. (Oh, sure, there’s also the bus option, but it only runs between 5 and 9 p.m. — don’t make life harder than it needs to be.)