French dining in New York often has a theme-park feel, perhaps intended to soften the seriousness of the cuisine’s recherché sauces and preparations. The mid-century palace milieu of places such as La Caravelle and Le Côte Basque is out of vogue, but nowadays, we eat in loud halls of de-silvered mirrors such as Balthazar that strain to evoke a fantasy France.

At first glance, Brasserie Cognac looks like another of these, its windows painted with words in red and gold, the requisite sconces leaning out from dark wood paneling. But the mirrors are bright and new, as though to telegraph that this is not a revivified antique but a living, productive restaurant of today. The greater and lesser functionaries of the staff banter together in French, and so did the diners at more than a couple of the tables I observed.

The menu of chef Florian Hugo — the great-great-great-grandson of Victor Hugo — is a fairly unsurprising roster of steak frites and mussels marinière alongside somewhat posher fare, such as delicate, rosy slices of veal ($16) in a cool sauce gribiche, a relative of mayonnaise tart with cornichons and capers. A cheese soufflé starter ($18) looms out of its ramekin impressively, threatening to be too much food, but on puncturing turns out airy and insubstantial.

There is un hamburger and gratin de macaroni among the main courses, in a gratifying absence of pretense, but also a creamy vol-au-vent of lobster and foie gras, and a traditional veal blanquette. Super-succulent black cod ($32) comes slightly rare, foamed about with a velvety champagne sauce and adorned with fat asparagus stalks and chewy wild mushrooms. Roast leg of lamb ($30) is sliced off the bone onto a rustic bed of bacony beans, which, on the Wednesday I tried them, had the slight brittleness of beans hurried too soon off the flame.

The bar is almost too extensive, supplementing an arsenal of wines with a dozen and a half specialty cocktails that contain oddities such as aloe juice, banana liqueur, and vinegar — as well as a separate battery of cognac-based drinks. Dessert features a respectable version of île flottante, the caramel-roofed delicacy of soft meringue afloat in vanilla cream.

Downtown, a very different restaurant shows another side of what can be considered everyday French food. The New French operates on a cozy, personal scale, while Cognac is vast and bureaucratic; its small dining room is defined by a semi-open kitchen, picture windows looking onto Hudson Street, and a mural of distinctive doodles by friend-of-the-owner Maira Kalman. Livio Velardo, last seen at the Belgian “meatery” Resto, here cooks the sort of loosely French food one is likely to find in the real France.

There are mussels, bien sûr, and steak frites, but also colonial food such as a complex Vietnamese pho ($15), brimming in its big bowl with minty, spicy beef broth, tangles of soft rice noodles, and hefty, richly stewed hunks of brisket. Freeing itself from tradition, the restaurant sparkles with clever, offbeat touches. Chicken-liver pâté ($8.75), pre-spread on buttery toasts, is reddened and sweetened by the inclusion of dates in the puree. Ting, a Jamaican grapefruit soda, is included on the drinks list for no better reason than that it’s delicious; given that families populate the neighborhood, it’s as likely a sight on the tables as glasses of wine.

Braised pork shoulder ($9 as a starter or $9.75 as a sandwich on brioche), fatty and soaked in beer, is redolent with cumin, a touch that sticklers might think of as Franco-North African, or maybe a coy reference to Napoleon III’s intervention in Mexico. A salade niçoise can be made with tuna ($15), salmon ($16), or a whopping portion of grilled steak ($18) strewn among its juicy, anchovy-dressed wealth of cooked egg, green beans, potato quarters, caper-berry coins, bits of olive, and sunnily Mediterranean roasted peppers. For dessert, there’s a large crème brûlée ($7) with an obvious ginger tang and, lurking behind it, a hard-to-place earthy heat that comes from pasilla chiles.

The two new restaurants have very different styles and objectives, but both demonstrate a fine aliveness that’s rarely seen in the city’s crop of artfully distressed French bistros.

Brasserie Cognac (1740 Broadway at 55th Street, 212-757-3600).

The New French (522 Hudson St., between 10th and Charles streets, 212-807-7357).