Josephine Bistro, London

I have to say that my opinion of Giles Coren has risen considerably. Why? Well, in his column in The Times last Saturday, he too reviewed this place. I have at least one reliable witness (L) to attest to the fact that my article had already been written. And Giles basically agreed with everything I had said. Have I been hacked?

 

When in Rome last year, I took a train to Orvieto and ended up in Bologna. This May I boarded another one, this time to London, and seem to have ended up in Paris. We're in a restaurant surrounded by old mirrors, you know the ones where the glass is slightly discoloured at the edges. In between, there are painted scenes which are Toulouse Lautrec-ish. St Germain or the Left Bank, circa 1925.

Had I searched in Bologna I might well have met our cheery sommelier (Paolo, I think) who hails from these parts. The second mature gentleman with a tie hails from Sardinia. The other, numerous waiting staff seem to come from all continents of the earth. I'm afraid that with the bustle and buzz (in a good way) I didn't manage to get anyone's name. Mea culpa.

I knew that appearances were being deceptive, but I wasn't prepared for the answer to the question of how long the place had been open. 12 days! And it was packed. It's the latest  venture from Claude and Lucy Bosi. After a long time operating at the high end, Bosi has now turned his attention to the bouchon/brasserie/bistro market. The first of these was the Bouchon Josephine in Chelsea, named for Claude's grandmother. I do wonder if he will regret having the names so similar with the places not that far apart. My friends Vikki and Craig Wood certainly regretted having two restaurants of the same name, even if the River Forth separated them.

Jay Rayner raved about Josephine the First, and in particular about the Lyonnaise influence. That's Bosi's home town (as well as that of Paul Bocuse). Some regard it as the home of French food (Parisians would disagree.) One thing is for sure: you don't go hungry there, or here.

The menus seem to have changed a little since the Chelsea launch. Each place has a set menu as well as an a la carte. Here at Marylebone it is far more classical bistro fare - herring in oil, boudin blanc, trout in red wine etc. But even in Chelsea some of the Lyon goodies seem to have disappeared since reviewed by Jay and by Andy Hayler. So no grattons Lyonnaise (a sort of pork scratching) or cervelles de canut (literally silk worker's brains - but no grey matter on the plate.)

You don't get much more French than soupe a l'oignon or a range of patés and rillettes. You can choose a selection of these if you really want to clog your arteries. I have been known when in France to make a 50 mile detour to a place whose rillettes were of particular renown. The difference between paté and rillettes? In a word, fat. In France you have to dig rillettes from a tub. Here it came in a thin, neat slice. Just as Thai places often do Asia Lite, this, I think, has been ever so slightly toned down for the British palate. Onion soup was the real deal, though not at the furnace like temperatures one expects in France. I'm not sure that's a bad thing, and, boy oh boy, is the beef stock intense. Maybe even too much so, but no one can question its authenticity.

Fish for mains. Brill for L, sole meuniere for me. Hers was roasted and came with a so-so Hollandaise. Not that much to write home about. My sole, on the other hand was text book perfection, and so it should be at £48 for an average sized fish. The cooking was spot on, unctuous with butter and sharp with capers. You need frites with fish, we both agreed. One bowl was brought, such a huge helping that I assumed it was two portions. Nope. They charged only for one.

It must be said that if you go a la carte here you won't find many bargains, but help is at hand if on a budget. The Menu Duval will give you 2 courses for £24.50. Even better, at lunchtime during the week the plat du jour will set you back just £16.50. I was very tempted to nip back the following day (Friday) for the confit duck and lentils with a mustard sauce.

In fact you could return many times and not repeat yourself. You can have snails and mussels, steak tartare and cheese soufflé. At the top end there are bank breaking platters of fruit de mer. The de luxe one with an added lobster is yours for £192. There is an interesting selection of sharing dishes, described as being for 2 - 4 people. From that section you might choose rabbit or chicken or cod. We witnessed the fourth option with two wine merchants (they had very loud voices) tucking into an enormous shoulder of lamb with garlic on a bed of flageolet beans. If they determined to finish it, I suspect they might still have been there the following morning.

Having stuffed ourselves with the first good baguette in a while along with addictively salty butter, we had absolutely no possibility of pud, despite my trying to steel myself. Tarte au Citron is a delight which is spotted all too rarely these days, but the show stopper seemed to be the Baba au Rhum. A well soaked cake the size of my head, it lived under a cloche near me. Large tranches are sliced table side then doused with more booze. Next time perhaps.

I'll happily return. In London, many establishments have received higher scores, and many have presented me with smaller bills. But this is one of the most authentic French bistros in the UK. Were I one of these critics who score ambience, that mark would have been off the charts. As an overall experience this was joyous, and that's not something one can say all that often.