Every family has a Josephine.

The one whose name lingers a little longer than it should.
The one who taught you how to taste, how to host, how to stay.

At Josephine, she is not a memory. She is a presence.

She existed twice, in two kitchens, under the same name.
Two grandmothers, different timelines, but both the center of everything.
They cooked without performance but with precision. Meals that were simple, exacting, and impossibly alive. Tables filled themselves, evenings stretched, and doors never quite closed.

This restaurant is a continuation of that tradition.

Somewhere between those kitchens and this room, Marco Gagliardi and Anthony Dragotto - both honoring their grandmothers, each named Josephine - came to understand that what these incredible women created was never just about food, but a feeling of being known and arriving exactly where you were meant to be.

Marco carries her through the discipline of the kitchen.
Anthony carries her through the rhythm of the room.

But Josephine is not about them.

It’s about the feeling you get the second you enter your family’s home for Sunday dinner.
Nothing is forced. Nothing needs to prove itself.
Everything is considered, and everyone who walks through the door is, for a moment, family.