The concept of Les Cocottes de Christian Constant may be a bit of a gimmick, but the food is definitely not. Most everything on the menu is served in cast-iron cookware (“cocottes”) by Staub, which, along with wine glasses engraved with the restaurant’s logo and cookbooks by M. Constant, are displayed on the shelves behind the bar and are available for purchase. I had to wonder, walking into a restaurant full of merchandise, if the chef was also selling his soul. 
The answer seems to be no. And even if he were, it would be hard to judge him. Constant has, after all, trained and inspired a generation of chefs, including Yves Camdeborde of Le Comptoir and Thierry Breton of Chez Michel. 
Constant’s impeccable kitchen at Les Cocottes, in the hands of Philippe Cadeau, turns out thoughtful, unpretentious food in short order. 
Though there’s not a greasy spoon to be found in this modern space of grass green and gray, the long counter and quick pace of the service are reminiscent of an American diner, as are the no-reservations policy and the friendliness of the serveuses with the lunchtime regulars. 
It’s a little ironic, then, that the only major misstep I encountered here was “la vraie salade de César Ritz” (”Caesar salad” to you and me), an American invention. It was a gloppy mess of chopped lettuce—no whole romaine hearts here—coated with a thick, bland dressing that lacked any zip of garlic or lemon.

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135, rue St.-Dominique, 75007, Lunch and dinner Mon–Sat., no reservations