A few weeks before I actually ate there, I was recommending Belcourt to friends. Usually I’m more circumspect, but I’ve eaten more than a few meals cooked by Matt Hamilton in various places, and I was confident that his latest kitchen would be as reliable as that of Uovo, Mr. Hamilton’s exciting East Village solo venture, which closed last year. Belcourt’s looks give little notion of what diners can expect. It’s built, very attractively, of parts salvaged from old Paris, with distinctive doors and fixtures that evoke a picturesque, ideal brasserie — as my friend said, “like Balthazar, but with personality.” The only French touches in the food are incidental, though: a confit, a “French Pearl” among the cocktails, calling a hanger steak an onglet. Mr. Hamilton’s aesthetic is American, vigorous, and personal.

The bottom of Belcourt’s menu reads, “Everything that can be made in house, is.” That extends to sausages and the mustard on them, the bitters in the cocktails, and the cured anchovies in the salad. A prosciutto made from duck ($12) is fresher, juicier, and gamier than your average prosciutto; it’s served thinly sliced in a bowl with vinegared figs and mascarpone, almost like a meaty dessert rather than a starter.

I was surprised, though, to find the cooking at Belcourt less muscular and intensely flavored than past experience with the chef taught me to expect. Uovo’s sweetbreads were fried crisp, but at Belcourt, the same meat is given a much more delicate treatment ($11). Skewered with lemon rind and gently seared on the grill, the pale, creamy lobes retain all their delicate texture and mildly earthy flavor, but I missed the contrast between crusty outside and unctuous middle. An accompaniment of excellent quince preserve offers the most vivid flavor on the plate. Slow poaching in oil gives the meaty legs of an octopus ($9) an un-marine gravity of texture. The thick, dense, but tender rounds could almost pass for roulades of white-meat chicken if not for the sea’s lingering sweet musk in them, which is drawn out by a smart, quasi-Moroccan salad of pickled carrots and roots of salsify that echo the texture of the tentacles.

Boudin blanc, the earthy French pork sausage ($9), does a neat pastiche of a hot dog, wrapped in a spongy bun and fringed with thick-cut sauerkraut that’s crunchier and more flavorful than most. It’s a skimpy starter, though, adding up to just a few bites and leaving one wishing for more while nibbling the house-made potato chips.

The big, smooth-textured lamb burger ($15) that’s a centerpiece of the main courses is less a pastiche and more the real thing, with fries on the side, although the house-made ketchup lacks the intense salty tang of the supermarket product. To compensate, a slab of semi-crumbly goat cheese is welded to the top of the meat, and crisp zucchini pickles with a hint of curry flavor are sliced for easy layering as well. Perhaps the best balance between vigor and subtlety is achieved by a couple of confited rabbit legs, rich and deeply savory, but delicate too, which come on a bosky bed of chestnuts and mushrooms bound with luxuriously buttery polenta. A glass of Domaine La Montagnette Côtes de Rhône ($10 a glass/$34 a bottle) gives the rabbit elegant context, but it’s happier in the fun company of the French Pearl, a lively cocktail of gin, pastis, and mint leaves.

Greek mizithra cheese makes a dense, delicious cheesecake ($8), drizzled with honey and sprinkled with lemon zest. It’s a standout among the surprisingly low-key desserts, which also include a poached pear and a sorbet plate ($6). Puffy fritters of mild ricotta ($7) become memorable only when dipped in a dark, rich chocolate sauce.

Fifty bottles of wine, all under $100 and mostly French, provide interesting counterpoints to the food, but the house cocktails, including three made with rye, really stand out. The dry sharpness of the whiskey, it turns out, pairs deliciously with sweet lingonberry syrup and house-made bitters ($9); an unusual julep ($9) with Champagne and sherry is another treat.

Belcourt is courtly. It lacks what I expected — the vigor and excitement of Uovo — but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Mr. Hamilton’s cooking seems subtler, not more complex, but with a fine new self-assurance that flavors don’t have to be big to be thrilling.

Belcourt (84 E. 4th St., at Second Avenue, 212-979-2034).