Nestle into the dark leather banquettes of Chez Dumonet-Josephine (always ask to be seated in the front room when you reserve) and pretend that you’ve stepped back into sepia-toned, pre-war Paris. That’s what we do. Then, we let the ornery (though very efficient) waiter bring over a complementary glass of the house white wine while we peruse the menu. Duck fat abounds and that’s a very good thing. The confit de canard (duck confit) is the best thing we’ve ever eaten in Paris. Yes, let that sink in. The skin is golden and perfectly crisp while the duck meat remains juicy- just think of it as a *really* decadent piece of fried chicken. Unbuckle your belts and try the other classics like foie gras-stuffed morels and boeuf bourgignon with buttered tagliatelle noodles. Dessert isn’t an option here, it’s a mandate. Anywhere that serves a cream-stuffed mille feuille the size of Jamie’s forearm and a Grand Marnier soufflé the size of my head (no hyperbole, I promise) means that diet-busting desserts are a must.
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