Three simple steps for success in the food game: (1) Get a steady gig with a big corporate employer. (2) Work for The Man long enough to get a feel for the territory and line up investors. (3) Strike out on your own and open the best French restaurant Prague has ever seen.

At least that seems to be the master plan by which Jean-Paul Manzac opened his cool new bistro, Brasserie M, though it doesn't take into account his own skills and the good fortune any restaurant needs to survive. Formerly the French chef at the Marriott, Manzac serves classic bistro food from lowbrow croque sandwiches to upscale grilled fish, as well as the hearty meat-and-potatoes fare of Alsace, which is not far at all from Czech cooking. As such, it's sure to find an audience quickly.

But meat-eaters aren't the only lucky ones here, as at least a few of the dishes are vegetarian. Among starters, the eggplant with zucchini mousse is one intense plate o' veg: a buttery, caviar-like fillet of grilled aubergine topped with a purée of zucchini so creamy and flavorful you'll spend several minutes trying to figure out what the other flavors are (Garlic? Thyme?). It's topped with a fresh tomato concasse and tastes pleasantly sweet, slightly acidic and rich.

Even more deliciously simple, though not vegetarian, is the rillette de canard, a rich spread of duck fat and duck meat, served with toasts and cloves of garlic much like Czech topinky. It's better than the one I had recently at Perpetuum, the new duck restaurant in Dejvice, though just barely.

Also good is the soupe a l'oignon. Manzac's version of this classic is emboldened with a sweet touch of port wine and topped with large croutons and a dose of melted, highly aromatic comté cheese — which smells a bit like a long-forgotten gym locker, but in the good way. It's sweet and sour and perfectly gooey and crunchy, and to get you to share even the smallest spoonful, your dining partner will need some kind of iron-clad legal document. Read carefully before signing anything!

Classic brasserie food makes its appearance with the choucroute, a plate of thin-cut sauerkraut garnished with pork and more pork, including ham, sausage, thick bacon, a chop and a boudin noir, or blood sausage. It's a sizeable portion for just one person, though not nearly as large as the two-meal feeders at places like la Maison d'Alsace in Paris. (A note on the taste: It might be attributable to the Gallic temperment, but something happens to sauerkraut on its way across the Continent, and the Alsatian version always seems less sweet and more sour than its Czech cousin. As such, it's considered a trap for wines, though the house white, a blend of clairette and bourboulenc, is round and moderate enough in acidity to match nicely.)

More refined are the two fillets of grilled sea bass, dressed with lemon, parsley and garlic butter and served with basmati rice and a brunoise of sweet red peppers: fresh fish perfectly prepared.

Desserts round up the usual suspects. The creme brulée pretends it never even heard of Amélie and presents itself as a simple custard, thick and creamy and bearing a perfect, crunchy sugar crust. Served in a highball glass, the fluffy mousse au chocolat is less cloying than many, with just enough sugar to underscore the taste of chocolate.