If you don't like it then don't come, seems to be the implication. They don't mind. It's your loss if you don't.

A swaggering piece of chutzpah which the public responded to by turning their noses up and walking away. Didn't they? No chance. They got in line and queued neatly. Good food, low prices? We'll be good.

Initially, the room only seated 40. An expansion to twice that size didn't seem to seriously slow things down. It's maybe easier now to get a table at a second sitting than it used to be but this place is still doing a serious trade. We arrived just after three on a Friday afternoon and were squeezed into the only free table available. Tables are small. Actually, even the chairs are small, the space between customers is tight.

It's a room that you walk through holding your breath, hoping that your wake of destruction will be minimised. It does mean that it feels authentically Parisian, the same atmosphere of intimacy with your neighbours, the same feeling that you're being punished for being a little bit too big. The crowd isn't quite as you might expect. Older and more settled than its brightyoung-thing reputation would suggest. People, I suppose, who have the time and money to linger after lunch until the afternoon turns to evening.

The menu isn't divided formally into starters and mains. Price is an indicator, but at lunch even the main courses didn't go over 15.

French onion soup was textbook stuff, a gruyerecoated crouton sitting in the middle, substantial and comforting. Ham hock terrine came with cornichons and sauce gribiche, a typical country French dish, the meatiness of the terrine lightened by the freshness of the sauce.

Chilli bean soup was a Mexican equivalent of the other dishes, straightforward, rich and earthy with a hefty kick.

Caramelised tarte tatin of black pudding and apple was sweet, dense and fruity with light flaky pastry, an inspired variation on the standard. Toulouse sausage with Lyonnaise potatoes and choucroute was an unaltered standard, a portion designed for a working farmer whose day had started a lot earlier than mine. Chargrilled garlicky sausage with the luxuriance of perfectly cooked potato and an undertone of sharpness from the choucroute.

Grilled whiting came with a finely chopped mix of vegetables and a buttery sauce, again perfectly done.

There is a sense with desserts that the pastry chef is having fun. Belle Helene fondant came with a Toblerone ice cream and was an inspired combination of hot and cold, chocolate and pear, melting textures and crunchiness.

Jelly and ice cream, as billed, gave no indication of the sophisticated and beautifully presented dish that arrived. A variety of flavoured jellies, flavours that we could only guess at, two types of homemade ice cream, one sorbet. We had tea and coffee and two bottles of excellent, light, soft, fruity Gigondas from Domaine La Bouisserie.

Service was slightly harried but friendly and professional. As things slowed down in the late afternoon, the atmosphere mellowed even as the waiting staff began to set up for the evening sittings. For a substantial meal and plenty of wine, the cost worked out at about 50 a head, which is very good value for the quality of food.

In a similar place in France, with a less imaginative menu, the price would not be significantly less. L'Gueuleton clearly has a very smart chef, but given that this place has been open for over a year, that its model of a simple short menu and reasonable prices is so obviously working well, that it has become a place that everybody talks about, it is perhaps surprising that no one else has tried to imitate it. The market is clearly there.