Not long ago, the hottest reservations in New York dining were Per Se and Masa, which serve up dinner bills the size of mortgage statements from high in the gleaming Time Warner Center. Now, the buzz has migrated 50 blocks south—and down the price scale.

Momofuku Ko, which opened in the East Village in March, is already being heralded as the successor to Masa's $400 prix-fixe menu. Ko's decor is minimal, and service is practically nonexistent; dinner costs $85 a head. "I got out of fine dining in order to make something that's delicious, made with good technique, and is of value to our customers and us as chefs," says David Chang, Ko's executive chef and proprietor. 

Around the corner, Marco Canora and Paul Grieco, the owners of upscale eateries Hearth and Insieme, opened Terroir, a tiny wine bar where prices for sophisticated small plates top out at $15—a substantial departure from the $30 entrées that chef Canora turns out at Insieme. Uptown, Michelin-starred chefs Daniel Boulud and Alain Ducasse recently opened Bar Boulud and Benoit, respectively, which serve bistro classics like cassoulet and duck confit in the $20 to $30 range. It's not bargain-basement cuisine but far more accessible than the formal dining rooms where the chefs made their names.

It seems more than coincidental that some of the most-talked-about restaurants opening in New York this spring have more simple charm than uptown polish. Across the country—from Starbucks to steak houses—there are signs that consumers are rethinking the way they eat. Faced with job losses on Wall Street and the specter of an economic downturn, New Yorkers seem to be tiring of stiff atmospheres and ever-climbing entrée prices; talented chefs are frustrated with the razor-thin profit margins that come with haute cuisine.

"A good restaurateur needs to be thinking about demographics and changing demands," says chef Michael Psilakis. He opened Mia Dona, a "neighborhoody" Italian restaurant, with Donatella Arpaia in February, a year after their haute Greek establishment, Anthos. "It would be very difficult to open a high-end restaurant in this market."

The shift away from formal concepts seems to be a national trend, judging from this year's James Beard Foundation Awards, the Oscars of the culinary world. In 2006, all five finalists for the Best New Restaurant prize were white-tablecloth establishments like Grant Achatz's Alinea, in Chicago, and Danny Meyer's Modern, in New York. Two years later, the finalists represent a wider (and mostly less expensive) cross section of the culinary landscape. Central Michel Richard, in Washington, D.C., for instance, is a playful and informal Franco-American bistro concept from a chef who made his name with a $95 prix-fixe menu at D.C.'s Michel Richard Citronelle. Fans of Richard's succulent 72-hour short ribs can now order them à la carte at Central for $29.

"Two things happen when there's economic instability: Food switches from heady and avant-garde to comfort food," says Mitchell Davis, vice president of the James Beard Foundation. "Then the prices drop."

But cutting prices while maintaining quality is easier said than done. Contrary to popular belief, profit margins in fine dining are the lowest in any sector of the food-service industry, at around 1 to 3 percent of revenue. In contrast, if overhead is kept low and the volume of diners is high, a wine bar or a casual-restaurant concept can reap as much as 15 to 20 percent in profit.

In order to stay in the black, restaurants stick to a standard pricing formula: Food should account for about one-third of the price of each dish, on average. For acclaimed chefs like Canora, Psilakis, and Richard, using high-quality ingredients that total well under $10 per plate is an exercise in resourcefulness.

Canora gets the pork for Insieme from one of the country's top producers and uses that relationship for the menu at Terroir. At Insieme, Canora serves pork loin for $30; he's able to get pork blade steak for half the price and put a big, sizzling slab on the menu at Terroir for $15.

"It's a cheaper cut of meat—a cut you would never use for fine dining—but it's coming off some of the best animals in the country," says Canora.

The opportunity for added profit lies in minimizing fixed costs such as rent and salaries. In a casual atmosphere, perfection is not necessary or expected, opening up possibilities for trimming costs without falling short of a diner's expectations.

While the cooks at Citronelle may toss out food that has small (and even cosmetic) flaws or is the result of mistakes in preparation, Richard urges the staff at Central to cut down on waste. Psilakis builds his ideal menu at Anthos first and determines its price second, but he reverses that process at Mia Dona, adjusting the menu seasonally based on when he can get the best ingredients at the cheapest prices. 

Psilakis' partner Arpaia says that salary costs can be kept down by hiring younger, less experienced staff and training them; the formal service for a higher dining concept is much more demanding, and even small learning mistakes are an unacceptable risk.

Decor is another major factor. At Bar Boulud, decreasing space between tables while nixing tablecloths, pricey china and stemware, and floral budgets adds up to larger profits.

Location is one of the trickiest parts of the puzzle, as restaurateurs must balance keeping rent low with attracting enough traffic to keep seats full. Terroir's space in the East Village fell into Canora and Grieco's hands for the price of a Manhattan studio apartment, and they say that the wine bar is on track to become their most profitable project to date "by far."

"In a place like this, everybody wins," says Canora. "Customers don't feel ripped off. We actually make our money back—everybody wins."