Two weeks ago, C swept into town for a super-quick weekend. She wanted confit de canard so I took her to Josephine Chez Dumonet. It was a thoroughly enjoyable lunch, just like my first visit. The baguette with butter was very good, we munched through nearly two baskets. So was the baby bowls of gazpacho. My sister loved the duck, skin crisped perfectly and the meat none too salty, just right.
Me, I decided to try Foie de Veau or calf liver. Cooked medium rare or pink as they say it here. It came in a whopping big piece which the waiter reassured me was considered just a 'petite' version. Haha. Panfried exterior gorgeous to look at and provided just the slightest crisp resistance before teeth sank into melting sweet liver. Not too gamey, but earthy and savoury enough to not pretend that it is anything other than an organ meat, in a really good way of course. Hardly needed its accompaniment of fluffy buttery mash but definitely was much enhanced when napped with its delicious sauce of raspberry vinegar. The sweet-tanginess of the sauce, like a subtle balsamic vinegar, helped cut much of the liver's richness and before I knew it, I had worked through almost the entire thing. Looking around, every other table ordered it too, mainly the men, so in a fit of ladylike guilt I left behind a small piece. Besides, we had already ordered dessert, their famous souffle.
C wanted their mille-feuille too, but they said no, it would be too much. How right they were, for the souffle was not served in a dainty fashion. It came to us puffed grandly over a big soup bowl and a side glass of Grand Marnier. (My sister still takes pictures, very good ones, with her very old manual Canon, and she was impressed enough to want a photo.) We dug in, and it was lovely. Not too sweet as souffles can get, the liquer helped immensively. Still, we are both not really souffle worshippers and couldn't finish it which left a little wiggle room in the tummy for their excellent mignardises.
Next time it'll definitely have to be the mille-feuilles.