A BRASSERIE, as described by Sharon Tyler Herbst in the foodie bible "The New Food Lover's Companion," is an "informal French café that serves beer, wine and simple, hearty food." Webster's New World College Dictionary describes a brasserie as "a bar serving simple meals as well as beverages."

Both descriptors come far closer to characterizing Brasserie Le Coze, Atlanta's beloved restaurant that once occupied the space beside Neiman Marcus at Lenox Square, than French American Brasserie, also called FAB, newly opened in Ivan Allen Plaza.

Becky Stein/SPECIAL (ENLARGE)
Skate wings are a hit at the new French American Brasserie. Under chef Kaighn Raymond, the food is, for the most part, better than it was at the former Brasserie Le Coze — although the expansive size of the space is overstated and lacks personality.
Becky Stein/SPECIAL (ENLARGE)
The lemon crepes offer a sweet finale to a fine meal.
Becky Stein/SPECIAL (ENLARGE)
An exterior patio and planned rooftop dining give patrons outdoor retreats from the fray inside the main dining area.
Becky Stein/SPECIAL (ENLARGE)
A seafood showcase is indicative of the fresh offerings at the brasserie.
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The old Brasserie, pressured out of Lenox Square by Simon Properties coveting its tony space in the mall, was the epitome of a sidewalk brasserie in Paris — tiled walls, thick, dark leather booths, drooping glass chandeliers and the din from Buckhead Betties vying for the last profiterole while congratulating themselves on the deal they just got at Betsey Johnson. For Atlanta, the old Brasserie was one of a kind. And it was glorious.

We've waited more than a year for its return, and those of us who never wanted it to move in the first place will find ourselves still waiting, to an extent. Because even though French American Brasserie opened in April, this new restaurant is not the old one, which is a good thing and a bad thing.

The good news is that the food, from chef Kaighn Raymond (who was the chef at the old Brasserie, too) is, on most levels, better than Brasserie Le Coze. The skate wings are crisper, saltier and even bolder than before, scrumptious in their brown butter sauce with fat, Pantellerian capers. The profiteroles are the French answer to a Dairy Queen sundae: plump and filled with nutty pistachio ice cream, drenched in Valrhona chocolate sauce and tons of fun to make a mess with. The sweetbreads are preciously plump, soft-centered works of art delicately placed over whipped potatoes graced with mushrooms and surrounded by a pool of black truffle sauce, topped with micro greens. Watercress salad is fresh, bright and perfect for lunch with an equally good assiette of cheese that includes manchego, pecorino de tartufo and soft, luscious brie de meaux.

Couple all this with a completely approachable wine list that also offers deep options.

Owner Fabrice Vergez is smart enough to know that there was no way to move downtown into a developing space such as Ivan Allen Plaza and keep the old Brasserie. Not only is the space more than twice the size and a complete departure from the old, the menu includes new additions, such as a large offering of steaks, chops, shellfish and oysters along with Brasserie favorites like the escargot and mushroom soup (the former a mushy mess that seems forced from Raymond; the latter a textbook lesson on how to use cream properly in a soup). Cleverly, there is no stone unturned — the convention crowds will have no trouble finding something to like at FAB, and regulars will find their favorites, too.

But the space — large and overstated — lacks the personality the menu begs for. There is a small area on the second floor (yes, there are not one, not two but three floors and an elevator, with rooftop dining to open soon), away from the fray of the main dining area, that sports all the old black-and-white-framed photos of Gérard Depardieu and Catherine Deneuve and the colorful original tiles from the original restaurant. This space, with its café curtains and second-floor view, is where I found myself wandering to, wishing to sip wine and gab with a friend.

But the main space, in spite of apparent effort to create the contrary, lacks the character of a brasserie. The stained glass tiles above the bar are too large. The circular zinc bar looks a little like the top of a tin can. The dry walls give no warmth to the room, even though they've been dolled up with chandelier sconces and detailed paintings, and the large, unadorned windows make the restaurant look more like a bank than a brasserie. Even lovely touches like the brown leather booths, the Metro clock and the statuaries that double as lamps can't cover the cold fact that this space falls prey to what nearly every new restaurant in Atlanta becomes victim to: It's too darned big.

There is so much more, happily, to focus on here. During the 13 months since Brasserie's closing, Raymond spent some time in New York with Brasserie mothership Le Bernadin, staging with star chef Eric Ripert. Raymond's best efforts lie in his sauces, which rarely disappoint. Take advantage of the fact that there is an entire area of the menu devoted to sides and accompaniments like sauce Choron, a classic creamy dreamy hit of bérnaise with tomato that's become so obsolete on modern menus eating it gave me fond memories of culinary school. I found myself dipping bits of flounder, macaroni gratin and ratatouille into it (the ratatouille actually needed it).

The waiters, with their black vests and starched white shirts, are every bit as attentive as they ever were, though I admit that everyone from Vergez to the valet seemed to know my identity from the second I walked in.

But nevermind. Picking over every little detail here is like complaining that George Clooney is too short. Brasserie Le Coze becomes French American Brasserie, FAB — whatever. It is a rose by any other name, and smells just as sweet.