Watch Action Bronson Eat Tuna Spinal Fluid and Smoked Veal Brain in France

Je suis desolé, but it’s the final installment of From Paris with Love, wherein Action Bronson has been traipsing around the city of dreams alongside his "Natural Wine Shaman" pal Clovis Ochin. These dudes are utterly disarmed by the country’s culinary and drinking delights. It’s Action's final French sojourn before he heads back to the drab old borough of Brooklyn.

Action’s first stop is the acclaimed bistro where bottles of wines line the walls. He meets co-owner Thomas Vicente, who shows him a gorgeous baby yellowfin tuna. Bam Bam sucks spinal fluid from the tuna before he and Clovis head outside to enjoy a killer bottle of natural wine from Italian producer Lamiddia that tastes like tart, fermented pineapple juice. The men are treated to some sashimi from that tuna gets a thorough dunk in beurre noisette, and Action does a little jig of ecstasy after putting it in his mouth; he sips some Savagnin that's got the mouthfeel of movie theater popcorn butter.

For dinner, Clovis and Action make a quick stop at Brutos, where they’re served a bomb-looking hamburger topped with smoked veal brain, cote de boeuf, and a roast chicken as big as his head.

This meat is, by Action’s estimation, “fucking unbelievable" and it "makes him feel like a lion."

For a change of pace, Action and Clovis then bop on over to Auvergne, the rural enclave of France where Clovis’ family is from, and meet Aurélien Lefort. Lefort treats them to a mix of gamay and pinot. It's deep burgundy in appearance, and it's got a mouthfeel so rich and deep that it practically defies description and causes Clovis to spontaneously hump the wine barrel.

They follow this with a fat blunt and then a cheese and charcuterie plate. The ham and harissa paired with some dope Comté makes for what Action reckons is the best sandwich ever made.

Patrick Bouju is one of the world’s finest natural winemakers; he’s also a swell dude. Action and Clovis mosey on over to Bouju’s house, where they’re served some perfectly cured pork tenderloin, "the filet mignon of pig." The guys snack on pork and blend together what they call an "assemblage" of wines from Bouju’s selection before they go underground to see Bouju's barrels full of aging wine. It's what can only really be described as a cavernous labyrinth of wine (there’s even a well down there), or, quite plainly, "some medieval shit."

Too bad he doesn’t have this in Brooklyn. Au revoir, Auvergne.