To many people, French food means fine dining for the filthy rich: crystal chandeliers at Obecní dĚm, pan-fried foie gras and any dish that sounds like it should be pronounced by Maurice Chevalier. But as Marie Antoinette once fatally observed, ordinary French people have to eat too, and many of them — say, for example, rioting students — don't earn a paycheck that can cover a duck liver's worth more than their monthly rent.

Which brings us to La Petite Bretagne, a blue-collar French joint off Národní třída that lets regular folks eat escargot without letting go of their wallets. The "Little Lighthouse" provides a beacon for those looking for a taste of France at the prices of Prague.

The menu is, admittedly, somewhat limited, but what we sampled was tres bon. Starters are mostly variations on cheese, with a recommendation that it accompany a glass of wine. If you've grown tired of endless plates of Czech eidam, you'll be pleased here; the Czech brie in herb, oil and spring onions (65 Kč/$2.90) absolutely comes to life, with a sharp and tart but entirely pleasant taste. Less arresting, but nearly equally good, is the "caseous roulade made with love" (61 Kč), an affectionate plate that rolls ham around creamy cheese with a sliced olive winking out playfully from the center. Order one of the Lighthouse's affordable bottles of red wine (150–240 Kč) as accompaniment.

For a main course, we eagerly devoured the baked lamb knee, a hunk of deeply browned flesh that fell easily from the bone. The lamb arrives in its own juices, animated by a lovely and lively mix of spices, including rosemary, majoram and more. At 165 Kč, it's one of the more affordable ways to enjoy being a carnivore.

Less exceptional is the Bretagne Lighthouse (perhaps suffering from the redundant name "lighthouse lighthouse"), a 195 Kč skewer of pork, chicken, onion and bacon with cranberry topping. On our visit, it arrived somewhat dry and not up to the standards of the other house specialties. Give it a one-word name, and cook it a bit less, and it would see marked improvement.

With the restaurant's nautical name, you would expect seafood to be on offer, and in that regard Bretagne does not disappoint. The mussels we sampled were slickly delicious, drizzled with grated cheese cooked to the point of a firm skin. What delighted us was the slightly salty, sophisticated and not a bit too fishy taste of the mussels. In fact, the melted cheese and fresh herbs sprinkled on top aren't even really needed; these mollusks could swim on their own, and they're highly recommended.

The decor picks up the nautical theme as well, featuring fish netting and thick ropes, hanging lanterns, portal windows and mortared walls decorated with model ships and battered seafaring suitcases. The intentionally weather-beaten interior comes across as not-quite-shabby chic, though the French sailing shanties playing on the sound system probably go a step further than is really needed to set the scene. Still, the attentive waiter in a traditionally striped blue-and-white shirt had the good sense not to wear a beret.