Bibou

Occasionally swayed by the trends of popular culture, I saw Julie and Julia, renewed my interest in Julia Child, and planned a trip to France. I think it would be safe to declare that this fall, French food is back.

Bibou seems to be leading the pack of this renewed interest, thanks to favorable press (including New York Times coverage) and an outstanding pedigree. Housed in Pif's former digs (where I did, on one night long ago, enjoy frog's legs prepared by David Ansill), Bibou's Chef Pierre Calmels, formerly of Le Bec Fin, and his wife Charlotte preside over the tiny dining room and kitchen.

By preside, I should clarify that the clientele Bibou draws is, for lack of a better descriptor, my parents. It seemed that everyone else in the tiny space were repeat visitors, all in their mid-60s, all very interested in the food, being there, and talking to the Chef and his wife. I confess I felt out of place.

Which is not to say the food wasn't delicious. It did make me think twice, however, when the service felt rather rushed with one dish brought on the heels of another, we were chided for not bringing wine, and not offered the tasting menu as the party next to us was. Chef Calmels did greet us, though, prompting my fame-induced shyness, speaking French and English in a charming, genuine way. I stuck with the more classical French dishes, ordering the pig's head terrine, which the Chef explained to me was fresh. He had purchased it yesterday, cooked the head overnight and then made the terrine that morning. Its flavors were indeed fresh, rich and exquisite, as was the accompanying fresh mayonnaise. I was obligated to try the foie gras, served that evening with peaches (or was it pears...) and a sweet ginger bread that was as fantastic as you can imagine, with a silky smooth rich texture and sweet offset.MCRF ordered the mahi mahi, happily perched on a bed of sauteed vegetables garnished with a rich unobstrusive foam.The desserts were lovely, once our server sorted through that the apple pie was actually the tarte aux pommes and the pie of the day was a separate offering (again making us wonder how we got this server, over others that appeared more competent). The limoncello ice cream was amazing, however, served with said tarte aux pommes, as was the chocolate cake. Most touching, however, were the tiny madelines, served hot.They helped make up for a wrinkle at the end of the meal when our server seemed inconvenienced to bring us ones as part of our change, making me feel awkward despite my leaving a 20% tip.

In short, Bibou offers delicious food in a cozy 32-seat rowhouse patronized by a very specific clientele, to whom they appear to devote much attention. If you can get past the second point, the first presents a great dinner.

Bibou is located at 1009 S. 8th Street, Philadelphia, adjacent to a parking lot, www.biboubyob.com.

Le Bec Fin

What is fine dining? What makes a restaurant great? Why does Philadelphia Magazine rate restaurants the way they do? I had not been prepared to think about these questions, much less discuss them, at Le Bec Fin, arguably Philadelphia's finest French restaurant. I was too busy being thrilled that I was called off the wait list for the promotion Le Bec is running, where, after being prepared a tasting menu, diners can choose to pay whatever amount they wish.

I was also unprepared for this discussion to happen with none other than Georges Perrier himself, Le Bec Fin's famous chef and owner. After we were seated at the 20-person communal table and introduced ourselves, I noted that the chef himself had quietly ascended the stairs, stopping to quietly size up the diners. When one of the more voluptuous college students at the table glanced over and greeted the chef, he proceeded up and pulled up a chair. Going around the table, he complimented the women on their beauty, the men for being with such beautiful women, and asked why we were here, all the while appearing genuinely interested in our responses. Entirely starstruck, I managed to mumble something about my friend having told me about the promotion. Said friend, on the other hand, had the presence of mind to say that Le Bec Fin was the best restaurant in town. Perrier was pleased to hear this, in a way that seemed both charming and sincere.

With a mischievous grin, Perrier explained that the promotional dinner was a bit of a gamble, one that hadn't always paid off in the last few days, but one that he clearly was enjoying. He talked some more, explaining his philosophy that food should be fun and mean something more than itself, more social, more celebratory. He wanted to attract a younger crowd, to redefine fine dining. I couldn't help but think of how vaguely intimidating it was to walk through the restaurant downstairs and wondered if it could attract an under-30 crowd who were not planning on proposing to their dates. I hoped so. Perrier's words, delivered with his alluring French accent and even-handed cadence, tantalized, suggesting anything was possible.

Telling you how wonderful the service and food were might be superfluous to explain what I took from the evening. It's worth a pause to say that, in line with Perrier's own explanation, the food was avant-garde and, in line with my expectations, cooked to perfection. Of particular note was a chilled English pea soup with a savory almond ice cream. The table collectively agreed that even among those of us who detest peas (myself among them), this was extraordinary and delicious, personifying summer. On the heels of an amuse bouche of roasted beet with citrus jelly, the soup showcased fresh, seasonal ingredients.

The next appetizer was a favorite of the table. A grilled scallop perched upon a charred tomato puree, adorned by pickled cauliflower and arugula. Again, the scallop and cauliflower naysayers in the group collectively agreed it was amazing. I began to appreciate the marriage between a traditionally cooked protein with, not a rich cream sauce, but an equally complex blend of fresh ingredients.

The scallop was followed by poached salmon with caramelized fennel and black olives, topped with garlic scape with a garlic cashew sauce. While the caramelized fennel was sublime and the salmon done to perfection, the garlic cashew sauce lacked the flavor punch for which I had hoped. The next course, roasted pork over a duo of a corn puree and barbecue (yes, barbecue) sauce was served with the intriguing pluot fruit, a hybrid of plum and apricot and a perfect foil to the pork.

What transpired among the diners was equally engrossing. We talked to each other -- figured out connections among strangers, points of interest, backgrounds. Of 12 diners there that night, 7 were college students who had responded to a campus list serve advertising the promotion. Two were a couple who had dined at Le Bec Fin nearly 15 years ago. And the remaining three comprised my party. We were seated in a sort of jigsaw puzzle, forcing conversation with strangers. We discovered who traveled to the same countries, who went to school together. We laughed at unexpected jokes and anecdotes.

By the time dessert was served, we were all in a good mood, happily full. And dessert was incomparably seductive -- a cherry clafouti with caramel chocolate ice cream. Assorted chocolates and petite madelines appeared on trays before us. I could not have been happier -- and then Chef Perrier appeared again. That's when things got interesting.

I'm not sure how it all happened, how over the next 30 to 45 minutes, Georges Perrier came to share with us his views on such wide-ranging topics from how wonderful his mother was (a great cook and renaissance woman) to how his daughter agreed with the table's sentiments that he should appear on Top Chef to, most vociferously and lengthily, his affront at Le Bec Fin's being ranked number 48 of 50 restaurants by Philadelphia Magazine. (To which I responded, how can you take a magazine seriously that ranks Zahav as No. 1, but Perrier emphasized to me the power of the press). I also was able to tease out that Perrier likes pizza like the rest of us, although he does cook at home. An avid gardener, he appreciates his wife's cooking, too. I'm not sure at what point I realized Perrier had charisma on par with his celebrity status or how extraordinary it was to have this conversation, but I felt lucky. And I was having fun.

Back to fine dining, great restaurants, and Philadelphia Magazine. I have since reflected upon the evening itself as quintessential fine dining -- an experience that celebrates fresh ingredients, perfect preparations and good company without regard to whether the price is high. While grateful that Perrier has resisted some of the Disney-level themes other Philadelphia restaurateurs have embraced, I remain worried that the tenor of Le Bec Fin is a bit stuffy, as though walking through, you might break something. The service, however, eschews elitism in favor of quiet assistance in a way that only a fine restaurant can offer. A restaurant is made great through its heart, the combination of personalities, service and food that is cohesive and consistently good while keeping up with changing palates. And I don't know why Philadelphia Magazine rates restaurants the way they do, why they focus on holding the hands of mainline suburbanites over city dwellers, or why their failure to celebrate a city's culinary landmark in favor of trendy spots is somehow acceptable. I actually don't much care on that last point, since I had an evening with the first two points.

And because I know you want to know, the majority of the college students paid $35 for their meals and I elected to pay $75 with a generous tip. Frankly, I would have paid a lot more for such undivided time with a legendary chef. But that was part of the magic, really, that money had been taken out of the equation. Conversely, the promotion "worked" on me; I would likely return to Le Bec Fin and pay menu prices to enjoy this experience again. Kudos, Chef Perrier.

Le Bec Fin is located at 1523 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa, http://www.lebecfin.com/. The promotion continues through August and while fully committed, the restaurant will accept names for a wait list. The promotion is also BYO.

Parc

Stephen Starr's latest installment, a sprawling, cavernous French bistro, has captured Philadelphia in an extraordinary way. Perhaps it's the location, across from Rittenhouse Square, with plenty of open windows to appreciate the view. Perhaps it's the food, a good mix of expensive and less expensive, casual but trendy, tasty but familiar. Whatever the combination, it's become a tough reservation and the subject of all restaurant conversation in the last month.

Which made celebrating my birthday there all the more fun. Armed with plenty of warning about the din, I nevertheless decided it could accommodate my seven friends and me. It did, comfortably so. Told it was a bit more quiet, we were seated on the Locust Street side of what essentially occupies the space of two restaurants, forming an L around a bar. Starr seems to have toned down the schtick for Parc, instead embracing a straightforward rendition of a French bistro, devoid of neon and unisex bathrooms. The atmosphere was bustling but refined.

The service however, was a little off. Our server had an odd, slow-motion quality to her voice and reiterated twice (over the span of what felt like five minutes) that we should be sure to ask her any questions if we had them. When one of our drinks was wrong, she said, "it would be my pleasure to get you the correct drink," slowly enough to suggest sarcasm, although I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. When served correctly, all of the mixed drinks were delicious except for the Gingembre, a gingery mix that was way too strong for my tastes. The Citron Glace was a wonderful play on lemonade and perfect for the weather.

All agreed that the appetizers were amazing. From the Pissaladiere (a goat cheese, caramelized onion and nicoise olive tart, pictured first above) to my warm shrimp and avocado salad (pictured second), served with a lemon caper beurre blanc, they were dead-on for concept and only slightly off for delivery. My shrimp were overcooked, a disappointing misstep. Note the handsome "Parc" plates, a good sign that Parc may be around for a while. Many folks got the grilled sardine salad, with roasted tomato, arugula and parmesan, which was reportedly very good (I am, sadly, scared of the oily whole-fish nature of the sardine as a concept, but I support my friends in their passion).

The entrees were equally French, interesting and tasty. I ordered the roast leg of lamb with creamy polenta. The lamb and accompanying sauce were sublime. The polenta achieved a gelatin-like creaminess with the addition of what must have been cheese. Spread rather thin on the platter, it had dried out a bit, but did taste very good. I tasted my Chocoholic Friend's Coq Au Vin (the "plat du jour" for Sunday) and was impressed with how the richness of the red wine had permeated the dish, making it both homey and special simultaneously. The Moules Frites were delicious as well, although my chiles rellenos friend opined that the fries could have been better (although neatly served in a small, silver bucket). VBF's Poulet Roti was also deemed to be delicious.

Not to be missed are Parc's raw bar offerings. My Funniest Friend Ever (FFE) decadently ordered the lobster, which was a fun spectacle to receive and done to his liking. With an extensive offering and (my favorite) two sampler options, this section of the menu is sure to draw me back on a hot summer day.

The desserts weren't as spectacular as I would have expected but seeing as they did, after all, involve things like puff pastry and chocolate, I was still pretty happy. The profiteroles (kindly topped with a birthday candle) were very good, although the ice cream seemed to detract from the pastry flavor a bit. Served with its own small pitcher of chocolate sauce, however, I can't really complain. The baked chocolate mousse with a raspberry sauce was as delicious and decadent as it sounds. The tarte tatin was reportedly equally good.

Surrounded by great friends, in a beautiful setting, being served delicious French food, I couldn't ask for more.

Parc is located at the corner of 18th and Locust Streets, Philadelphia, http://www.parc-restaurant.com/.

Ansill (Updated: Now Closed)

Once upon a time, I dated an adventurous eater. On the second date, he suggested that we find a place to eat frogs' legs. Trying to appear bold, I readily agreed and, after some research, found Pif, chef David Ansill's first restaurant. Upon arrival, chef Ansill himself told us that while frogs' legs were not on the menu that evening, if we picked some up at the nearby Asian supermarket, he would have the kitchen prepare them. Several gruesome minutes later involving unexpectedly live frogs, we were eating said legs, perfectly done and yes, tasting faintly of ... chicken.

Because of that evening, David Ansill had worked his way into my heart (unlike my date). I followed his career as he evolved from Pif to Ansill. I listened intently to friends who went and described their adventures in offal and who felt that all of Ansill's offerings were pretty gosh darn tasty. And so as I surfed opentable.com at around 6 pm, I boldly made the reservation.

Ansill did not disappoint. Smoothly greeted by an attractive server who managed to be charming but not intimidatingly so, we followed his suggestions. Which entailed ordering the roasted beets with warm goat cheese (by far my favorite), the shrimp and avocado with crispy bacon and lobster roe, the house-cured smoked salmon with greek yogurt and dill, and ... the pigs trotters. Yup, at the suggestion of said gorgeous server, we were lulled into ordering pigs' feet. Personally, I thought his description that they were "sliced thin" and otherwise delectably prepared was reassuring in the way that I would not be able to associate the dish with its original form. As it turns out, the preparation was more difficult to enjoy than I had hoped. To me, it was reminiscent of scrapple without the crispy fried exterior. It was what it was, and I'm sure it was prepared well, but I just wasn't there. It was more at the end of a slippery slope that begins with dark chicken meat, heads into game, and then down to offal. It's a different taste, which begs the question -- did I want it to taste like chicken meat? Do I embody my fellow blogger philafoodie's observation that Philly isn't ready for molecular gastronomy? Well my friends, maybe. Maybe I'm not ready for it. I had been close to ordering the lamb's tongue when, after the pigs' trotters, I backed away from my brave face, my wannabe adventuresome spirit.

David Ansill was omnipresent throughout our meal, a fixture at the bar, wandering frequently through the restaurant, presumably back and forth to both the kitchen, occasionally pouring himself another glass of wine. It was at his suggestion that we ordered the squid risotto, flavored with ink and prepared with shellfish broth, as well as what he described as Ansill's self-described signature house dish, the Lamb Osso Buco sandwich. The "sandwich" turned out to offer a decadent, brioche-like bottom layer, immersed in lamb jus, topped with tender lamb. Exquisite. The squid was unexpected, with a peppery rich taste that was both different and pleasing.

The desserts left a bit to be desired -- at least my chocolate fondant, which was appropriately bittersweet, but too dense for my tastes. The maple mousse with ginger snap was delightful, but I still see Ansill's strengths in his smaller plates. I thought the value for the meal was excellent, with all of the options being between $7 and $16.00.

Bring your adventuresome spirit (or date), or a simple appreciation of a good restaurant, and enjoy.

Ansill is located at 627 S. 3rd Street, Philadelphia. www.ansillfoodandwine.com

Brasserie Perrier at Boyd's (Updated: Now Closed)

When I was little, my grandmother enjoyed lunching at what was then Woodward and Lothrop's. Or Garfinkle's. Either way, before the one giant department store chain ate up all of the others, there was such a thing as the store cafe. It existed on the opposite end of the spectrum from the food court, perhaps on another plane. Ladies lunched there, enjoying themselves and exuding elegance. High tea was often served. Those days are mostly gone. Or so I thought.

Brasserie Perrier offers an update. Situated in the middle of Boyd's on the mezzanine level, decorated in posh purple and silver with leather accents, I couldn't help but feel like I was playing grown-up, being pampered and fully enjoying my retail experience. Meeting two friends there, I felt like I was part of a scene from a romantic comedy or chic lit book. I reclined comfortably in my plush chair with leather pillow and gazed upon Stuart Weitzman's latest red pump.

I relay this atmosphere since this is a lot of the charm to be had here. The menu offers a fairly standard line up of salads and sandwiches that you might expect. I chose a more hard core french cafe offering of the Croque Madame, with ham and cheese on thick white bread, topped with two eggs, sunny side up with bechamel sauce. Although somewhat predictable in taste, I nonetheless enjoyed it. We all started with the french onion soup. While appropriately decadently topped with gruyere, the cheese was far from browned and it lay on top of croutons rather than a slice of baguette. Otherwise, it was delicious and perfect on a rainy day. My friend got the beet salad, cutely served in a molded cup form which, to this day, still impresses me.

We lingered over coffee (I confess, lingering is one of my favorite pastimes lately). Our hipster waiter indulged our holding the table even after the place started to fill up around 1:00. Among larger life issues, we also managed to talk purses and fashion and I relayed my fear that the Boyd's retail folks would see me for the Target shopper I am and escort me out once I came near the designer labels. Nevertheless, for that moment, I felt like a grown-up. A rather affordable excursion, too, with soup, sandwich and drinks coming to $24 each with tip. And a delightful "ladies" lunch.

Brasserie Perrier at Boyd's is located at 1818 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa, and is open Monday through Saturday, 10:30-3:30.