Food, just as fashion, passes through fads. Right now, lentils, potatoes, yogurt ice cream, sweet wines (Port, Banyuls, pineau des Charentes), roasted joints of meat, oxtail, wine by the glass and simplicity are all "in" in a positive way. Top tables and casual tables are guilty of excesses, including too much faux Italian, too much balsamic vinegar, a plethora of carpaccio (of duck, tuna, salmon, beef) and a lot of emptiness parading as simplicity.

Another trend is the move toward more casual lifestyles - in dress, dining, comportment. For the consumer, this means greater flexibility and choice. Several years ago diners would have been offered a good rap on the knuckles for ordering two first courses instead of a first and a main course. Likewise, a glass of wine, rather than a half or full bottle. Less time for dining also means more competition with fast-food outlets: bakeries, pastry shops, sandwich shops, and Asian carry-outs have expanded their offerings and in many cases increased our choices. The economic crunch has also forced restaurants and shops to increase hours and to cut back on closing days, again making life easier for us all.

But perhaps the most negative - and predictable - observation is that the nonsmoking section has never taken off. Ask to be seated in the nonsmoking section of a restaurant and you'll be laughed into the street.

No.1: La Tupina, 6 Rue Porte de la Monnaie, Bordeaux, tel: 56-91-56-37.

No.2: Le Cameleon, 6 Rue de Chevreuse, Paris 6, tel: 43-20-63-43.

No.3: La Beaugraviere, Route N-7, Mondragon, tel: 90-40-82-54.

THE trick of any successful artist is to make it all seem easy. Like Fred Astaire dancing: He looks like he's having so much fun, we forget he's working like mad. Cooking successfully over coals takes that Fred Astaire practice. Get the fire hot enough, but not too hot. Keep it going, evenly, at the right temperature. Know your ingredients. Time it right.

At La Tupina, a longtime favorite bistro in Bordeaux, they've got it all down - grilling, roasting on a spit, finishing off an oven- baked dish to give it that welcoming hint of smoke. And they make it all look so easy. The owner, Jean-Pierre Xiradakis, is a man of the senses, and delivers gastronomic nirvana from a stone hearth in the form of potatoes sauteed in duck fat over the fire, a plump poularde stuffed with sausage and ham and roasted on a spit, thick juicy he-man portions of well-marbled steak, hearty portions of steaming foie gras paired with truffles, en papillote. Isn't fat wonderful, the way it carries flavors, aromas, satisfies as nothing can? If the food weren't so good, so real, so homey and down to earth, La Tupina might be just a stage set, a museum piece.

Yet diners come here as though they're making a pilgrimage to a long-lost grandmother, to be warmed by the fire, attended to. The gentle red Bordeaux is poured, and we're home again. Closed Sundays and holidays.

Menus (lunch only) at 100 and 150 francs ($17 to $25). A la carte, 300 francs.

When I've been away from Paris for a stretch and want an infusion of the capital's gastronomic best in all its simple glory, I head for Le Cameleon, a quintessential bistro where the food has flavor, character, personality. A neighborhood spot in Montparnasse, far from the tourists' gaze, this funky, homey, carefree spot run by Raymond and Jacqueline Faucher always makes me glad to know that traditions are alive and well in France. The fare ranges from such modern additions as langoustines a la nage (not a soup, but rather cloudlets of shellfish in a fragrant broth) to a robust salad of oxtail on a bed of greens.

Raymond Faucher is a former butcher, so you can trust his bavette, fragrant and cooked to rosy perfection, teamed up with a state-of-the-art potato puree, sizzling roasted tomatoes and buttery endive. Desserts vary from soft, golden, tender fondant aux poires, to a simple whole baked apple, filled with a scoop of calming honey ice cream. Wines are above par, and there's always a new discovery, such as the smoky, haunting Chinon, Domaine Dozone, Clos du Saut au Loup, 1991. Closed Sunday, Monday and August.

A la carte, 150 to 250 francs. A truffle restaurant as a casual table?

Well, wait. Guy Jullien's little country dining room off National Route 7 south of Montelimar, is one of those rare country spots where you can eat and drink your fill for 100 francs or 1,000. At La Beaugraviere, Jullien indulges his three passions - wine, truffles, the best ingredients of Provence - and we're the lucky benefactors.

The simple 125-franc menu boasts a saffron-infused fish terrine, a ragout of lamb with olives, a classic nougat glace flavored with the honey of Provence. La Beaugraviere offers such understated fare as a salad of earthy potatoes topped with rounds of fresh and fragrant black truffles, a touch of salt, a drop of newly pressed olive oil from the cooperative at Maussanne les Alpilles. An entire foie gras is infused with sliced truffles, and cooked hermetically for greater depth of flavor.

He marries artichokes and scallops, roasts lamb with a touch of fresh thyme, cooks rabbit with a rich black olive spread, garlic and thyme, and uses the rich red syrah from Fonsalette for a pan-fried steak worthy of its name. In short, an ideal little spot, a simple restaurant with noble tastes.

Closed Sunday evening, and Monday from Oct. 1 to Easter. Menus at 125, 198, 320 and 390 (includes wine) francs. A la carte, 125 to 375.

No.1: Joel Robuchon, 59 Avenue Raymond-Poincare, Paris 16, tel: 47-27-12-27.

No.2: Le Louis XV-Alain Ducasse, Hotel de Paris, Place du Casino, Monte Carlo, tel: 92- 16-30-01.

No.3: Guy Savoy, 18 Rue Troyon, Paris 17, tel: 43-80-40-61.

No.4: Taillevent, 15 Rue Lamennais, Paris 8, tel: 45.63.96.01 and 45.61.12.90.

Joel Robuchon, a national treasure, a king of rigor and exactitude, keeps astonishing us all with an ability to reinvent himself moment by moment. The latest reincarnation of this 48-year-old chef is a change of address, upgrading - as he says - from a Deux Chevaux to a Rolls-Royce.

Open since Jan. 5, his Art Nouveau hotel particulier on Avenue Raymond-Poincare ushers in a new era of historic opulence. And his menu - which retains only a handful of dishes that became classics at his Jamin on Rue de Longchamp - signals a nostalgic return to his country roots, with hearty, elaborate, robust fare that includes a pot-au-feu of cured pork paired with buttered cabbage and truffles; an explosive layered macaroni gratin chockablock with truffles, foie gras, and a celery ragu; pigeon cooked on a spit and served with potatoes fried in goose fat; and an entire lobe of duck foie gras surrounded by a cream of lentils.

My admiration for this chef has long been public record - I collaborated with him on a cookbook several years ago. But that association doesn't undo this undeniable fact: Robuchon is still tops.

Through simple tenacity, endurance and discipline, he manages to deliver a roast chicken that brings tears to the eyes: moist, fragrant, crisp, paired with a swirl of richly crusted tubular pasta that's dusted with Parmesan and roasted to tenderness. Essence of chicken, delivered directly to your plate.

Robuchon molds, melds, seasons, extracts the greatness out of everything from cauliflower to razor clams, foie gras to caviar.

Some dishes are so complicated, they're like a jigsaw puzzle not complete until the last piece is in place: Fat fresh morels, crushed foie gras, calf's-foot jelly gather to form an etuvee, not a soup, not a main course, so perfect and shimmering you don't want to ruin it with a spoon.

Lobster is cooked within a millisecond of perfection, harmonized with a delicate hand with curry, star anise; a single rouget is filleted and spread open like a book, set atop grilled slices of garlic and thyme-infused potatoes, accessorized with a deep-fried basil leaf and a vibrant green chlorophyll sauce.

Robuchon brings the palate to heights it never dreamed of, and he says he'll keep working his magic for only two more years. He insists he'll retire at the top of his career. For a million dollars, I couldn't guess which way the winds will blow.

Closed Saturday and Sunday. Menus at 890 and 1,200 francs (about $150 and $200). A la carte, 1,200 francs.

Monte Carlo: capital of glitz, glamour, scandal. So what's a nice guy like Alain Ducasse doing in a place like this, cooking his heart out for a lot of people who care more about flat bellies than cochon de lait?

At Louis XV-Alain Ducasse - amid the Christofle vermeil tableware, portraits of Madame de Pompadour and Madame du Barry staring down at you, and with a terrace view of the latest in Ferrari, Daimler, Bugatti, Rolls and Jaguar - we dine on Ducasse's fresh, vibrant, varied cuisine.

He straddles two nations, France and Italy, gleaning the best from each. Olive oil from Italy, vegetables from Provence, poultry from Haute Provence, fish from the Mediterranean, with an extraordinary array of breads, pastries, chocolates from the warren of kitchens he oversees.

His food takes a sensual, rustic turn with a giant green ravioli set on a bed of wilted arugula and baby violet artichokes. At the table, the waiter crushes a bit of soft sheep's-milk cheese with oil and a touch of black pepper and spoons it over a dish that sings of springtime.

Ducasse's virtuosity with vegetables is unrivaled. A platter of his vegetables from the gardens of Provence could convert even the most hard-line steak-and-potatoes man.

Pigeon is grilled over hot coals, along with a slab of foie gras, and served simply, with grilled new potatoes. But his tour de force is cochon de lait, suckling pig, roasted over wood coals, paired with a crusted slab of lard the size of a Walkman, served with enviably perfect gnocchi and parchment-thin slices of raw artichokes.

Ducasse loves combining the raw and cooked version of the same ingredients on a single plate: raw tomatoes are topped with a soft confit of tomatoes; raw artichokes are tossed in a vinaigrette, then paired with artichokes browned in olive oil; fresh raw basil leaves perfume a fish fillet, showered with fried basil leaves.

In short, a study in the luxury of simplicity, the simplicity of luxury. Ducasse's cuisine is one of dignity, diligence and perseverance, a cuisine of the senses, and of someone who is propelled into the kitchen by the sheer force of gourmandise.

Closed December, two weeks in February, Tuesday and Wednesday (open evenings June 23 to Aug. 25). Menus at 620 and 800 francs. A la carte, 800 francs.

Spirit, creativity, swing define the ever-modern, ever-exciting cooking of Guy Savoy. For 14 years I have followed the evolution of his rare, energetic cuisine, and always leave his pampered dining room with a sense of astonishment. Few chefs change dishes as radically as he does from month to month, and the decibel level of creativity is so high, you often feel as though the conception of some dishes goes straight from his brain to your plate.

That said, few chefs remain as wedded to the classics, as he gathers inspiration from the sea, the land, the potager, the forest, the barnyards of the world. His combinations are inspired, but never wacky; and while he'll throw us an international dish every now and then with risotto, or a carpaccio of scallops, he remains true to his French upbringing.

For starters, Savoy pairs turbot and an artichoke vinaigrette, along with a dollop of potato puree - an alabaster trio that opens the palate and sets it up for more robust fare to come. His fish offerings are impeccably fresh; a lovely whole roasted Saint Pierre cooked on the bone, soft, sweet, tender, and delicate, seductively simple and sublime, is paired with a regal sea- urchin sauce.

One of his most inspired dishes of the moment is a complex pheasant soup, consisting of a rich broth laced with nut-flavored white beans, showered with sizzling cubes of roasted pheasant (in imitation of croutons), served with tiny toasts spread with a soothing pheasant-liver mousse. Savoy manages to extract the heaviness from food without extracting flavor, remaining authentic to his cause. The dish embodies what's right about modern French food: light, complex, nothing compromised.

But perhaps the best dish I've ever sampled at Guy Savoy was a perfectly orchestrated soup of artichokes, Parmesan and truffles. Each ingredient stood on its own, yet the end result was far greater than the sum of its parts.

I often dream of what good hands France would be in if there were 1,000 Guy Savoys. We could stamp out the stodginess, boredom, copycatism and greed that has come to typify too many modern establishments.

Closed Saturday lunch and Sunday. 750-franc menu; a la carte, 800 francs.

If Taillevent did not exist, someone would have to invent it: the pillar of French cuisine, the ideal of what can be and should be done in running a restaurant, in treating each guest with honor and dignity. With Jean-Claude Vrinat at the helm, this very grown-up, intimate club, is in fact open to all. Taillevent is a sober (but never somber) Napoleon III hotel particulier rich with wood, deep tones of blue and red.

With the kitchen in the hands of Philippe Legendre, the cuisine shines with offerings that are both classic and modern. The menu offers fare that's varied and sound, from a sublime consomme de volaille to a poulette de Bresse en cocotte lutee, the regal Bresse chicken hermetically roasted, to capture fully its heavenly essence.

A favorite dish is his onglet et filets d'agneau, marinated in sea salt for three days, then rolled in rosemary and garlic, wrapped in caul fat and roasted in a veil of butter. A touch of foie gras, a toss of cabbage with butter, and you're on your way to a complex and very satisfying dish.

Satisfaction guaranteed, as well, with his unfussy supr?me de bar au gros sel, top-of-the-line fish roasted to perfection in a bed of coarse sea salt. Or the soothing creme de lentilles aux truffes, a frothy delight of warm and creamy lentil soup topped with a dollop of whipped cream and dotted with truffles.

Taillevent's famed marquise au chocolat - like a rich and comforting pudding for adults - has some real competition with its warm mo?lleux au chocolat. Half souffle, half pudding, the little chocolate wonder is topped with a spectacular thyme ice cream.

And with all this, you get the incomparable Vrinat, the model restaurateur and sommelier. He gives Taillevent a touch of security and dependability with which no one can compete. His dedication to wine gives us the very best, from the little known Cote Rotie of Roger Burgaud, to de Montille's Pommard Pezerolles, to a surprising rose de pineau from Charentes.

Closed Saturday, Sunday, February school vacation and the last week of July to the last week of August. A la carte, 800 francs.