Hearty French food that’s worth going back for
When I re-reviewed Bibendum, after its kitchen had been taken over by noted chef Claude Bosi back in the bucolic days of 2017, I noted that one or two of the dishes were unusually hearty and heavy by the standards of most fine dining restaurants outside the US. So it’s perhaps unsurprising that Bosi has since opened a bouchon, a Lyonnaise equivalent (more or less) to a trattoria or bistro, dedicated to serving up such tub-thumping fare.
Starters at Josephine Bouchon
A leek vinaigrette may sound boring to some, but the kitchen here turned out a starter that was sophisticated in its simplicity. The lightly creamy yet refreshingly citrusy sauce clung to each tender, easily sliced stalk.
Punchy capers helped cut through the rich plumpness of the steak tartare, while crunchy, buttery toast provided the carby backdrop.
The souffle was effortlessly light and fluffy, but it was no wispy wallflower. Tart and buttery undertones provided plenty of character in each mouthful.
A portly portion of terrine, cleaved from a continent-sized mother load, had more than just girth to its name. Simultaneously chunky yet smooth, it coated my mouth with its richness. If that sounds overwhelming, Dijon mustard and cornichons on the side can help.
It’d be hard to choose just one starter to have above all others, given the quality of the spread at Josephine Bouchon, but the onion soup would be a top candidate. A crown of melted cheese, possibly comté, and thick bread had a gooey, stringy heartiness that was immensely appealing. This contrasted well with the tart and moreish soup underneath.
Main courses at Josephine Bouchon
Although the confit duck leg was dense, meaty and draped in a rich sauce, it was never heavy enough to outstay its welcome. Perhaps because that sauce provided a sharp, sour counterpoint to all that meaty richness.
The portion size of the veal sweetbreads was arguably too small for a main course, but this offal dish was otherwise perfectly formed. The earthy sauce had a velvety texture which helped emphasise the creaminess of the delicate l’il organs.
A breast of guinea fowl had been roasted just-so, with its tenderness and delicate sweetness evident in every bite. The caramelised skin meshed neatly with the bisque-like qualities of the langoustine sauce, producing an almost caramel-like effect. The sharp tarragon ensured that the breast-sauce combo never became too cloying, but there wasn’t enough of either to also cover the earthy leg and thigh meat.
Dense and firm slabs of partridge soaked up the aniseed-like quality of the finely-chopped braised cabbage exceedingly well.
The rabbit is one of Josephine Bouchon’s sharing dishes, but I’m not convinced it’s worth rounding up enough people to devour it. Some cuts were moist, but not firm enough, resulting in a chicken-like effect (and long-time readers will know how I feel about most chicken dishes in this country). Other cuts were firm, but a touch too dry in places and were very much in need of the mustard sauce. It wasn’t a complete loss, with offal (kidneys, liver and possibly heart) providing textural variation, but this was still the least accomplished on the mains I tried at Josephine Bouchon.
Firm slices of pumpkin had their nuttiness judiciously accentuated by hazelnuts and a Mimolette-based sauce.
Pescatarians are not short of options at Josephine Bouchon. Glossy and gregariously plump cod, with a firm bite and just-tender follow-through, came swimming in a luscious butter sauce. It was lighter and more subtle than you might think, its delicate milkiness and slight tartness contrasting well with the sharpness of shallots.
Glossy strands of skate peeled away from the bone easily, while a sprightly, zingy sauce helped the fish slide down the gullet with ease.
Firm, meaty chunks of brill separated from the bone with relative ease. The fish didn’t just depend on its muscularity for texture. Both of the skin and golden caramelised underside had toothsome levels of crispness, while the thick, rich sauce coated one’s tongue and mouth.
Side dishes at Josephine Bouchon
Green beans were tenderised just-so, but that only made the shrug-inducing nature of the confit shallots all the more disappointing.
Gratin dauphinois was a quiet triumph, the tuber sheaves brimming with a lactic, buttery heft.
The effect of the pommes duchesse was uncannily like that of tater tots, but to the nth degree. Salted, neatly browned and with a delicately crisp mantle, they were addictively scoffable.
Crispy golden frites were largely free of excess oil.
‘Pommes vapeur’ is just a more ornate-sounding way of saying ‘steamed baby potatoes’. They were competently done, but could’ve done with a tad more butter.
Although I’m sceptical as to whether the alleged use of Vichy water actually made any difference, the braised carrots were undeniably toothsome.
Desserts at Josephine Bouchon
Although I would’ve preferred the filling of the lemon meringue tart to have been more astringent, it still possessed a noticeable zesty sharpness. The pastry was too brittle though.
The sablé turned out to be a very crumbly and sugary shortbread. It left me unmoved, especially given the drab ice cream accompanying it, but at least the strawberries were on point.
Although the nougat glace wasn’t especially refreshing for a frozen dessert, the crunchy nuts complimented the raspberry coulis surprisingly well. The latter was also true to the fruit, rather than falling into uncanny valley flavoured yoghurt territory.
Chocolate mousse, the only sharing dessert on the menu, turned out to be far more enjoyable than expected. This was due in large part to the shavings of dark chocolate scattered on top. Their woody, smoky snap brought much-needed contrast to the milky, sweet and airy mousse.
The rum baba may have been pillowy soft and lightly chewy, but the most memorable thing about this yeast cake was the pungent dousing of rum it received. Although it brought hints of aniseed and an almost fruity sweetness to this dessert, it was the overpowering astringency that dominated every morsel. I had to guzzle the chantilly cream as an antidote, making this dessert one for boozehounds only. Unsurprising really.
The firm but easily breakable pastry of the praline tart snapped apart to reveal a coarsely ground filling full of sweet nuttiness.
Choux pastry, first crusty then puffy, cradled a fluffy Chantilly cream. Served lightly chilled, the Chantilly cream was refreshing enough that it’s arguably a better hot-weather treat than the nougat glace.
The set menu at Josephine Bouchon
If you’ve already taken a squint at the menu on Josephine Bouchon’s website, then you’ll have noticed that the prices are a bit Chelsea. Although, to be fair, making money for almost any restaurant has never been easy, especially with tumescent inflation. The set menu, at £24.50 for two courses or £29.50 for three courses, is more in keeping with old-school bouchon/bistro vibes.
Quenelle de brochet was far more solid and stocky than you’d expect for a pike mousse. It was still a bland affair, although that slack was easily picked up by its traditional partner, a sticky Nantua sauce. Its bisque-like qualities came from langoustines, rather than crayfish.
A poached egg, singular, had the sticky richness of its yolk subtly enhanced by a red wine sauce. Tart onions, earthy mushrooms and smoky, fatty lardons rounded out this small, perfectly-formed starter.
‘Lyonnaise charcuterie’ seemed to consist of only one type, slices of a peppery and mildly fatty salami-a-like. It didn’t really need the salted butter, but if you do pair them together, then that’d make the sharply refreshing radishes all the more essential as a palate cleanser.
If you love tripe as much as I do, then ordering the andouillette main is an absolute must. Cutting apart easily, the offal sausage had just the right amount of yielding firmness and earthy funk. The creamy mash was the perfect accompaniment, given its own occasional vegetal earthiness. As ever, the kitchen thoughtfully provided a counterpoint to this fulsome richness, this time with a Dijon-based sauce. The mustard’s distinctive punch was clearly in evidence, despite its inevitable dilution as part of a sauce.
Boudin noir had little structure to it, falling apart like a Tory government, but it was effortlessly fluffy with a touch of moreishness to it. A sweet and sour apple came topped with more boudin, while a creamy, puffy mash provided the ballast. If you’re offered mustard, then take it – its fruity heat added another layer of flavour, while also helping bind boudin, fruit and carbs together even more.
Saucisson brioche would be perfectly sized for a starter, but unfortunately this alternate timeline Gala pie is intended as a main course. Lilliputian size aside, it was a distinctly pleasurable experience. Nestled in the centre of the crispy, crunchy and puffy slice of brioche toast was a wee lobe of sausage. Like a fleck of Mattessons, but smokier and coarser. A red wine sauce, brimming with a tart tang and sticky richness, bound the two even more tightly together.
I found the Lyonnaise beignets to be unappealing, as they came across as slightly off and somewhat bready churros. The chocolate sauce was a different story though, with a subtle yet distinctive bittersweetness coursing through its thin, liquid form.
A thin custard, served at room temperature, thrummed with the floral presence of vanilla. The surprisingly thick floating islands of soft meringue held together well, but didn’t taste of much, while I found the tackiness of the pralines to be somewhat off putting.
The Verdict
This was one review that I never wanted to end. Not just because Josephine Bouchon’s food was satisfyingly hearty, which, for some, is their one and only criteria for whether anything is worth eating (you know who you are). it was also – for the most part – well-executed with fine technique and sourcing in ample evidence. Although some of Josephine Bouchon’s best dishes are only available a la carte with all the cost that entails, the fixed-price set menu is still well worth diving into, whether or not cost is a pressing issue. If that isn’t a sign of a restaurant worth eating at time and again, then I don’t know what is.
What to order: Almost everything…
What to skip: …except the rabbit.
Name: Josephine Bouchon
Address: 315 Fulham Road, London SW10 9QH
Phone: none listed
Web: https://josephinebouchon.com
Opening Hours: Monday-Friday noon-14.30 and 17.30-21.30. Saturday-Sunday noon-15.00 and 17.30-21.30.
Reservations? Essential.
Average cost for one person including cover charge: £70-80 approx. a la carte
Rating: ★★★★★