Contrary to what you might think, given Paris’ reputation, the city in its current form is not exactly the best place for a bistro meal. What was once a staple of the French capital’s dining scene has, in most iterations, become a museum of its former self. (For more about how this came to pass, check out my story for Life & Thyme.)
I’m not someone who seeks out a classic bistro on the reg, but I am interested to know which of the bistros that remain in my adopted home are actually worth a visit. If nothing else, it’s useful information to be able to offer to visitors! So it was alongside my bistro-loving mother (and on the occasion of her most recent birthday), that I finally ducked into Joséphine Chez Dumonet to see what all the fuss was about.
A Parisian veteran located in its 6th arrondissement since 1889, Joséphine Chez Dumonet is, in some ways, an evocation of a different time – something you clearly see upon entering: No matter if you opt for the early bird seating or a later dining time, most of your dining room companions will be Anglophones. This isn’t a complaint; in a nod, perhaps, to the foreign clientèle, the service is far friendlier than you might be used to in Paris, which is a bonus in a spot that has such a hefty price tag.
Indeed, in the grand tradition of fellow bistro stalwart l’Ami Louis, Joséphine Chez Dumonet pairs exorbitant prices with massive portions – kind of contrary to what most people think of when they think of French dining. Luckily, here, you’re encouraged to share – which Mom and I definitely did.
But first, the amuse-bouche.
After we’d placed our order, we received a complimentary shot glass of the most delicious winter squash soup served sprinkled with chives. Accompanied by a bread service (another nod to the American clientèle?) it was the ideal way to whet the palate for what was to follow.
For our appetizer, we opted to share the plate of smoked salmon, which is offered in either a full or a half-portion. We opted for the former, and I think they may have brought us a pound of the stuff, silky smooth and house-smoked by Jean-Christian Dumonet himself.
A special shoutout to the herb-laced sauce that came with it, good enough to lick off the spoon. (Not that I did it, and not that you could prove it if I did.)
For our main, we shared the Chateaubriand steak, which is only available for two. (Of the mains, only the beef bourguignon and the côte de boeuf are available in half-portions, aka single-person servings). Worth noting if you’re planning to visit with someone who, like Joey Tribbiani, doesn’t share food.)
Perfectly rare (the only option aside from bleu – and perhaps one of the only things Emily in Paris actually got right), the steak nevertheless lacks a bit of panache on the plate.
The accompanying jumble of potatoes and tangle of frisée were delicious, and I loved the willy-nilly shards of garlic throughout, but at a restaurant of this caliber – and for this price – I wanted a bit more precision.
(Precision – it must be said – was indeed granted in this hefty sauceboat of béarnaise. The sauce-making game here is On Point.)
Whatever you get as a main, you must save room for dessert: specifically the Grand Marnier soufflé, which arrives piping hot with its own little glass of the liqueur, meant to be poured into the soufflé itself (something I did rather poorly, but I did it all the same). Rich and eggy, light and fluffy, the soufflé is exactly what you’d hope it would be.
If you’re looking to have your mind blown by something novel or inventive, Joséphine Chez Dumonet is not the place for you. If you’re looking for the inexpensive, convivial plates of a working-man’s bistro, well, idem. But if you’re looking for a special occasion spot that proves that the bistro of Paris is still clinging onto the shadow of the city’s illustrious past – and you don’t mind being surrounded by your fellow Americans abroad – then this restaurant definitely deserves a spot on your list.
Jos̩phine РChez Dumonet Р117 Rue du Cherche-Midi, 75006