Forget what you know about Stephen Starr, as we did after walking into Parc. Yesterday’s Bastille Day celebration had the perfect postlogue in a trip to the new French Bistro on Rittenhouse Square. Collin Flatt ate his way through a surprisingly affordable meal at the latest in a growing empire. Read it all after the jump.
A pretty young thing donning a pink-streaked blunt cut is commonplace in Philadelphia, not so much in the Starr Restaurant Organization. She was there, front of the house, representing everything Parc was going to be. Different than what we know of his eateries, promoting Parisian style with a layered brushstroke. She had style, focus, and efficiently went about her business among the opening night madness as if it were any Monday dinner service. Professional.
I love French wine, I love French food, and now, I lovehate Stephen Starr. Maybe it’s just lust right now or a foodafterglow, but Parc did everything right from the moment I stepped on the premises. I shouldn’t be surprised, as I fondly remember Blue Angel for feeding my Francophileside correct. Classic Frog. Honest Frog. Parc brings it back in a rush, a not-so-distant memory from dishes past.
The mustard-tinged lighting reminds me of bistro more than anything else in the joint. That’s not to say the space is wrong, in fact it’s perfect, it’s just such an important detail that must be discussed and labored upon. Movie set designers developed the interior and leave nothing to the imagination, it’s all tangible. From the tilework to the brass rails, the molding to the sconces, the jeroboams of Veuve Clicquot to the full length urinals, it paints a picture and builds a model. Some leftover aesthetics from Blue Angel found a home here, an inside joke to those who have great food memory and restaurant obsession. The monolithic proportions of the room are offputting, but kept in check by carefully planned sections. I felt like my table, my neighbor’s table and the three top near us were in our own little cafe. Quite the feat for a dining room that seats 250 — so well-executed, it seemed simple.
The menu has no tricks or fad concepts, just straightforward French cuisine. A refreshing turn from the usual schlock we are forced to endure, I cannot give a bigger compliment to the respect for classicism at Parc. Starr-usual, the drink menu is full of weirdo cocktails, but at least they’re not watered down. I feared the wine list might be a joke/overpriced, but was soon calmed. I got great value in a glass of Languedoc Rose, and a sparkler from the Loire Valley. Both rang in around $9 per glass, which is more than reasonable. The only misstep: A $600 bottle of Haut-Brion ‘99, which is about 4 times the auction price.
Organ meat, oh sweet organ meat. I always wanted to open a restaurant that served all organ meat. You’ll find plenty of entrails on the menu, I started with the Chicken Liver Mousse, which was salty and rich. Served chilly with a nice crisp layer of rendered fat on top, a side of mesclun and onion confit as a finish. The made-right-there bread was more than a supporting role for the table, it was a conversation piece for my dining companion and me. Teeth breakin’ crust with sourdough webbing and a baguette balanced the mousse with the wine and my giddiness. Chef Dominique Filoni isn’t standing on the shoulders of genius, he’s shaking hands with ‘em and sharing a smoke. I haven’t been this happy since they brought back Boo Berry.
After the Skate Grenoblois arrived, I realized I hadn’t gotten my Salade Lyonnaise. This was the only misstep of the evening, excusable because of the number of patrons in the dining room, as well as it being first night. Both the skate and salade are bistro staples, but one was much more successful than the other. The salade was fresh and crisp, not weighed down by the poached egg, which was slightly sloppy. The potato, though, was inconsistent, as some were cooked through and others slightly underdone. The bacon was thick and smoky, and there was no fat to be found. The crutons reminded me of this German snack called Zweiback, which made me happy, even if it was just for nostalgia. A salad that was good, but needs a little more precision.
The skate wing, on the other hand, was delightful. A crunchy, nutty skin gave way to flaky flesh so soft it could have melted into the porcelain. The caper butter was slightly salty, but the crisp snap of Rapini made me forget about the sodium attack which was a tiny blemish on an otherwise perfect offering. The dish was plated perfectly, with the right amout of negative space and juice running between the elements on the canvas.
For dessert, I quickly consumed the sorbet medley which included a personal favorite: Cassis fruit. Known as black currants stateside, a laserbeam of freshness attacked me. The consistency was creamy, yet light, a perfect foil for the warm and muggy air that awaited me outside in Philadelphia. The little squirrel shaped hazelnut crunchy that adorned my sweet made me giggle and was pictureworthy. Whimsy for the win.
Parc is set to be the new hotspot for foodies and wanna-bes alike. Great for people-watching (I almost knocked over Mayor Nutter), slamming drinks, and most of all, enjoying stunning food. Most of us agree on the Disneyworld mentality Starr institutions own, but he really makes good with another successful French bistro. Best of all is the price. 2 glasses of wine, 3 dishes = $70 AFTER TIP. They threw in the salad because of the slow service (which wasn’t even that slow for an opening) and the miscue on the pacing. There shouldn’t be a problem getting seats because of the immense nature of the restaurant, but be prepared to talk loudly. I didn’t find that to be much of a concern because I was too busy thinking about my food. My dining partner had the same problem. Everyone should have that problem.
Before final judgment comes in the form of an official review, I will head back to Parc for lunch, brunch, and anything else they can throw at us. I had three excellent dishes and one mediocre attempt, hardly enough to give the final stamp of approval. That being said, it’s an inspiring start. Check back with us in a few weeks to see if they can keep it up. After all, Philadelphia is in dire need of more great French cuisine. And Stephen Starr might be the man to get it done.
- Collin Flatt
Parc is located at 227 S. 18th St on Rittenhouse Square. 215.545.2262
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