It was so worth it.
All through the lengthy beef stock extraction and the tiresome onion caramelizing, I thought, "What are we doing? It would be so much easier to just order French Onion Soup in a restaurant."
Yeah, but it wouldn't be as good. Sweet, deep, sweet, oniony. Sweet. That little dab of bread on top (it was a bâtard, which I will translate to that bastard, King Louis XVI), covered with chewy gruyère.
Honestly, you wouldn't want dessert.
Dessert would probably be "cake." No thanks, Marie.