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At first glance there is nothing to distinguish this corner bistro from hundreds of other cafés in Paris. In the front room with its wood-panelled ceiling are a plastic-topped bar and a few bare tables with black banquettes, and in the back is a larger room with red-and-white checked tablecloths. Then you see the plates going by, each one - from the goat's cheese salad to the pavé de rumsteak - loaded with golden fried potato rounds or hand-cut chips. This is the kind of neighbourhood bistro you had almost given up hope of finding in Paris.