Comment: My search for jambon beurre in Paris led me to the best sandwich in Los Angeles.

We have great croissants in Los Angeles. The baguettes at République bakery and Clark Street are top-notch. French fries? There are too many local favorites to count. But when it comes to incredibly slender shops filled with wine, good mustard and a counter full of all kinds of foot-smelling sausages? Paris is the place to be.

During a recent trip, I went in search of the perfect jambon beurre, the exquisite French ham and butter sandwich on a baguette. It's the kind of product you can find in almost every bakery in Paris, behind every deli counter, and in the café in your airport terminal. But when I did a quick search for the best jambon beurre online, the same store dominated the results. One online publication even went so far as to claim that Le Petit Vendome's jambon beurre was “the best sandwich in the world,” leading dozens of influencers to visit the restaurant and proclaim the same.

The best sandwich in the world? I am no stranger to making such outlandish claims in this column. I've guided readers to the best grilled cheese in the universe. I encourage you to travel to Santa Ana for the best sourdough. I stand by these wild proclamations. But I was skeptical that this jambon beurre from Paris was the best sandwich in the world. I also couldn't resist a visit to see for myself.

But first, I took a recommendation from a reliable source.

The exterior of Caractère de Cochon in Paris.

(Jenn Harris / Los Angeles Times)

On my first morning in Paris, I walked from the Latin Quarter to Le Marais in search of Caractère de Cochon. Los Angeles Times Food Deputy Editor Betty Hallock recommended the small shop, stating that it was, in fact, home to the best jambon beurre in Paris. Hallock has impeccable taste. And she never overstates a recommendation too much.

The store is located in a plum-colored building in the Marais, in the third arrondissement. The woman inside was already helping a couple when I arrived and kindly asked me to wait outside. The space is about the size of a dressing room and only one party is allowed at a time.

Bundles of sausages hang from the ceiling and bottles of wine line the walls. A man works with a shiny metal meat slicer behind the counter.

The first question the woman asks is if I want a sandwich. Then he directs me to a small refrigerator with tall glass doors and asks me to choose my ham. There's a selection of jambon de Paris (cooked ham) and cured French ham, with slices of meat in all shades of pink. They are plain or sprinkled with things like garlic or rosemary. I opt for the plain jambon de Paris and then ask him to choose ham for a second sandwich. He points to a deep black cured ham and simply says “this is the one.”

A ham and butter sandwich from Caractère de Cochon in Paris.

Butter? Of course. He then asks me to wait outside while the sandwiches are prepared and he helps the next customers.

After about three minutes on the sidewalk, he leaves the store and hands me my sandwiches.

The baguette makes a satisfying crunch and then the butter oozes out of my mouth. There is a glorious rush of salt and cream, milky, a little grassy but mostly smooth. Then the smell of cured ham fills my senses, greasy and potent like a forgotten gym sock. Everything works in unison, intoxicatingly simple and balanced. It is without a doubt one of the best sandwiches I have ever eaten. Three ingredients. And it costs about $16.

The jambon de Paris is more like the sandwich I had been imagining: the ham is soft, delicate, and almost juicy. Both sandwiches are generously filled with grated ham and butter.

Surely nothing could be better than this.

The next day, I arrive at Le Petit Vendome to find a line of about 25 people stretching down the block. The group of four behind me is from Florida. They read online that this was the best sandwich in the world. In front are the tourists from Germany. They had read the same thing.

A jambon beurre sandwich from Le Petit Vendome in Paris.

Le Petit Vendome is a full-service restaurant with a menu of bistro classics in addition to sandwiches. While there is ample seating on the restaurant's patio, they do not allow customers to order sandwiches at the tables. Even if you order a full meal. If you want to try “the best sandwich in the world”, you will have to wait.

After about an hour, we reached the front of the line. There is a woman who takes orders and prepares the sandwiches. He is kind and patient with every person who comes to his window with questions in a language that is not their own.

We ordered a sandwich with Paris ham and another with saucisson.

The baguette is fresh, soft and chewy, but the crust doesn't crack or crunch. The ham is cut into substantial slices with a firm, meaty texture. Although there is a good amount of butter, the ham and the entire sandwich need salt. That mind-blowing trifecta of flavors and textures we experienced yesterday was absent.

It's a sandwich I would eat again, but I regretted the hour we spent in line.

If you want the Caractère de Cochon sandwich, you'll have to book a flight to Paris. But with a handful of ingredients sourced from Los Angeles stores and restaurants, you can make something pretty similar. First, you'll need a good baguette. The bakeries on Clark Street and the République restaurant are my favorites. They are crispy and airy with just the right amount of chew. Clark Street also makes its own jambon beurre with Dijon mustard and pickles.

The jambon beurre sandwich from Clark Street Bakery in Los Angeles.

For butter and ham, Beverly Hills Cheese Store offers a variety of French butter and ham. Ask for the store's best French butter and you'll be presented with a small rock of Bordier salted butter motte. I took home half a pound to make a couple of sandwiches and eat with radishes the rest of the week.

The store sells cooked and cured ham from France, and they will be happy to give you a sample to help you decide. Kindly request that they cut it into thin slices.

Spread both sides of your baguette with a generous amount of butter. Think of butter as an ingredient rather than a condiment. You want to be able to taste the butter in every bite. Next, layer a couple of slices of ham, but not so many that they overwhelm the bread or butter. The key to this sandwich is balance and letting each ingredient shine in unison.