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I see tourists every day on street corners and park benches, flipping disconsolately through guidebooks for what should be as easy to find in Paris as sand in the desert: a good place to eat.

But it isn't easy, especially if you'd rather devote your time to seeing the sights and you don't want to spend a fortune. Contrary to the myth that has grown up around this world capital of cuisine, you can have a bad meal here, though that generally stems from the desperation of hunger, not lack of choices.

"The appetite," wrote 18th century French gourmand Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, "declares itself by a vague languor in one's stomach and a slight feeling of fatigue." A charming sensation, he thought, as long as dinner was on the horizon — say, at Taillevent, Le Grand Véfour or Alain Ducasse at the Plaza Athénée Hotel, three of the 10 restaurants here that won vaunted triple-star rating in the 2004 Michelin Red Guide to France.

But dinner in such Parisian heavens costs at least $100 per person, not including wine and drinks. The great brasseries — Balzar, Lipp, Bofinger — can be almost as pricey, and even the modest "Bib Gourmand" restaurants in the Michelin Red Guide are defined as offering dinners for $28 to $38 per person. Then there's the exchange rate, which turns every $1 into about 80 cents.

The ugly truth is that dining out here is more expensive than in L.A. or New York. So I was doubtful when I took on the task of finding budget-priced meals in Paris, which, according to my guidelines, means two courses for $25. I consulted Michelin, Paris restaurant aficionado Patricia Wells, magazines and foodie friends and came up with this idiosyncratic list. There's nothing highbrow about it, which could make gourmands roll their eyes. But after a meal at any of these restaurants, you won't feel hungry or had. You may even decide French food is so good that it's worth spending more money to try a place with a couple of Michelin stars.

Before you set out, here are some things you should know: The evening meal in Paris generally starts around 8 p.m. On Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, you'll need reservations. Many restaurants are closed on Sundays.

Mélac Bistrot à Vins

I was about to expire by the time I reached Mélac, on foot by way of the Place de la Bastille, then into the scruffy heart of the 11th arrondissement. The 66-year-old bistro and wine bar is on a corner in a former greengrocer's shop with a red door, far from chic tourist Paree. It is the sort of neighborhood where middle-class Parisians live and armies of green-clad sanitation workers don't routinely clean the streets.

That, though, is part of Mélac's charm, as is its good, honest food and family feeling. The patron, Jacques Mélac, is the son of the founder, who came to Paris from the Aveyron region of southwestern France in the '30s. Neighborhood types hang out at the small front bar with the requisite wooden beams and tired lace curtains.

I sat on a low stool at a little table by the bar where I could watch the action and read the vintage posters on the ceiling and walls. My favorite recalled Anita Bryant, claiming, "A meal without wine is a day without sunshine."

Service here is slapdash and slow but genial. The menu is short, appended by daily specials on a chalkboard and the longer wine list. I ordered a half-bottle of a Corbières, Grand Moulin 2001 ($10); a curious appetizer called oeuf cocotte from Mother Mélac's recipe, the menu said ($7); and the pork chop special ($16).

The oeuf cocotte came in a bowl, like soup, cheesy, white and viscous, with the egg swimming in the middle and sprigs of thyme on top — comfort food with a French twist. I sopped up every last drop with bread. The chop reached the table still sizzling from the pan, flanked by green beans and potatoes that looked as if they'd been roasted in the sun rather than on a stove. The ingredients and preparation weren't fancy, but it was exactly right, like my mother used to try to make but — forgive me — much better.

Le Petit Bofinger

I sought out Le Petit Bofinger, close to the Marais and the Place de la Bastille, for literary reasons. It is the modest second cousin of Bofinger, across the street, one of the fabled belle époque brasseries of Paris, founded in 1864.

Le Petite Bofinger was created by the brasserie chain that bought out Bofinger several years ago and is smaller, humble and less historic than the original. The cloned aspect of the place — it is one of four baby Bofingers in the Paris area — didn't appeal to me, but the $33 prix fixe menu, including appetizer, entree, dessert and wine, sounded like a bargain.

Le Petit Bofinger is to the original what a Spanish-style tract home is to a hacienda: a knockoff. But it's still good. The tightly packed tables have white cloths covered by paper. There are mirrors and posters for art exhibitions, as in every other Paris bistro. Here, though, the décor is new, fresh, clean.

That's the way the food tastes too. To start, I had a mushroom cassoulet that wasn't creamy or hot enough, leading me to regret that I hadn't ordered the fresh oyster appetizer. But the entree, a small, tender chunk of nicely grilled veal, with vegetable cannelloni, was good and the house Bordeaux that came with the meal went down smoothly. After tasting the chocolate mousse dome for dessert, I went away stuffed and satisfied, with only a short, lingering look over my shoulder at the great and glorious Bofinger.

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