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For 50 years (1958 to 2008) there lingered on the West Village's Greenwich Avenue a narrow yellow lunch counter – you know, the old-fashioned kind clad in chipped Formica with twirling red stools. But here's the catch: the place served French food, a living breathing contradiction to the assertion, "There's no such thing as cheap French food, at least not in New York." The herb-flecked Provencale omelet was substantial and satisfying, the Monday special leg of lamb sliced and served with boiled potatoes, the baguette sandwiches thin and penurious with just a slice of meat and a slice of cheese, the way they make them in Paris. Nowadays, when your unpricey lunch options run to Subway and Chiptotle, we miss Chez Brigitte more than ever.
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