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Collin Flatt finds a beautiful movie set at Butcher and Singer with lights and cameras, but no action. Full script after the jump.

Behind all of our criticism of Stephen Starr and his empire lies a simple truth: the man knows how to build an eatery. As New Philadelphia emerged, he was almost singularly responsible for giving us a restaurant profile where none had previously existed. In the early days, Starr restaurants often launched the careers of some of our greatest chefs, and introduced haute cuisine to neophyte palates. While every dish wasn’t a hit, more often than not there was good flavor and quality service at his establishments. L’Ange Bleu is still an all-time top 3 in my travels, and sorely missed.

Starr’s name went from visionary to Vader in a matter of 5 years because of immense success jealousy and the belief he was taking ‘our thing’ to the suburbanites. Quality of food began slipping, but his concepts were always spot on. With the opening of monolith Parc, I was more than happy to heap praise on the honesty of the French bistro experience he provided: outdoor seating, revelatory bread offerings, crispy skate, the best Lyonnaise Salad in town, champagne brunch, and a contrived but beautiful space.

Secretly, we awaited the opening of Butcher and Singer like kids on Christmas Eve. We’re charter members of the Mad Men Fan Club here at Phoodie. If someone can recreate the experience of being on celluloid, we believe in Stephen Starr. We were ready for Winter Crush ‘08.

A disturbing thing happens when you dine at Butcher and Singer. You’re not really there. You’re on Shawn Hausman’s latest soundstage, surrounded by out-of-work actors who never got a call back for the part of Don Draper. This is not Hausman’s fault, mind you, as he did his job flawlessly. It’s probably the sexiest dining room in town, as every detail was labored upon with a microscopic eye. But a restaurant that values form over function is doomed to fail, as grease-stained tablecloths and napkins were an omen of things to come. Strictly chosen for their sheen and lockstep color match (not washability or stain-resistance) with the ambient lighting, they represented my dining experience quite well.

I had to order my bottle of wine 3 times, as the server kept bringing back the wrong juice. Nevermind the markup on my Catena Malbec ‘06 was 400% (they charged $44 for a half bottle, a full 750 ml is $22 bucks right now), but they also didn’t stock Pimm’s , a flagship liquor for top-notch steakhouses and the main ingredient in a Pimm’s Cup. Our server had never even heard of the drink, and somehow those folks who expect more affordable pricing are seen as uncultured brutes. Confounding.

The featured Porterhouse cut was actually a fairly reasonable $46 for dry-aged prime-grade beef. But when my cow arrived mid-well after being ordered mid-rare, I was concerned. For a cut that thick, we’re not talking seconds of difference, those are long minutes. We figured the server had put my steak in front of another member of our table, but alas, it was not to be. He had ordered his mid-well and it came out the same. When your specialty is steak, do it right. I had better cuts of meat at a Sullivan’s for half the price. This was not a case of first-week jitters or missteps. A chef can cook a steak. Any of the flavor that a bloody mess of rare meat can bring was left on the grill.

The Butcher Salad was $14 for Iceberg, red peppers, and a viniagrette. My Crab Shrimp Louie was done properly with avocado and cherry tomatoes, and had a good amount of very well done protein as the highlight. The homemade Russian dressing was smooth and velvety, but couldn’t put out the burn of a $16 price tag.

The Halibut was finished with a spritely lemon caper sauce and mellowed by meaty almonds and cooked to a lucisous and fluffy texture. The surrounding charred cauliflower was very inconsistent, as some were burnt completely and others hadn’t been near open flame.

The highlight of the meal was a towering raw bar offering that was truly the best I’ve eaten in years. The Shrimp is done 2 ways, one of which was an amazing vanilla-peanut sauce covering the little cold fishies, the other just peeled. King Crab and Lump Crab adorned the top level of the platter, while the bottom was surrounded by amazingly briny Oysters and Clams. The hefty $99 price tag didn’t detract too much from the beautiful display before us that was garnished with seaweed.

Final tally: an ungodly $145 per person pre-tip!

Much has been made about Starr opening up another steakhouse within spitting distance of Barclay Prime, but that’s not the real problem here. We saw inklings of what was to be expected from his new direction when Parc’s main attraction was the space and not the food. But the culinary offerings at his Rittenhouse bistro are generally very good, if not great. This is not the case at B & S, and the price tag is more than double.

As the empire expands, I worry about what kind of quality we can expect moving forward. People criticize Starr for a number of reasons, but the food itself was never one of them. I would hate to think he is so far removed from what his early outposts represented, and brought to an appreciative Philadelphia food scene. We loved you, man. If you’re listening Stephen, more steak please, and less sizzle.

– Collin Flatt