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The opening of a Stephen Starr restaurant is hyped somewhere between the Second Coming and the curtain going up on a smash Broadway show. After years of construction, which cost a cool $9 million, Starr opened Parc — his French bistro off Rittenhouse Square — on Bastille Day.
Since French fare is my favorite, I asked Daniel Braden, nephew of my friends Joan and Lee Schwartz of South Philadelphia, to accompany me to lunch.
The bottom line for any restaurant, no matter how drop-dead gorgeous, no matter how many well-heeled, beautiful people line up at the door, is the food. At Parc, it’s mediocre at best.
Parc is a cavernous space with tiled walls, hanging lights and a zinc bar. It is so loud no one can carry on a conversation.
Patrick, the bartender, poured me a glass of Muscadet ($9) that was crisp and tinny. Daniel and I enjoyed the homemade baguette, but the accompanying sweet butter was topped with "fleur de sel" and was too salty.
Patrick brought us a mustard pot, which set the scene for the charcuterie board ($14) of Proscuitto di Parma, thinly sliced saucisson, duck rillet (which I found a bit dry) and two types of liver paté — one mousse-like, which was our favorite, and one a bit coarse.
Salade Lyonnaise ($11) is a classic bistro dish. Here it was prepared with a mound of frisée and small chunks of lardons topped with a cool poached egg. Daniel split our portions and cut into the egg, which oozed its runny yolk so perfectly my mouth began to water.
Daniel and I decided to try roast chicken ($23) and trout amandine ($22) because these are among the hallmarks of bistro cuisine.
One-half of a small roast chicken sat on a puddle of salty "pommes puree." The little bird was neither moist nor succulent, but the mashed potatoes were creamy and hot.
The trout, too, was salty, but the slightly toasted almonds gave it a boost. I enjoyed the classic lemon butter sauce, which didn’t separate due to its fine balance of fat and acid. Six haricot verts rested on the fish.
The desserts fared better. Profiteroles ($9) are choux pastry filled with vanilla ice cream and topped with chocolate sauce. The warm fruit tart with ice cream ($11) was a fine mix of the sweet and slightly savory.
Two days later, I returned to Parc alone. I was curious to see if this meal would be as uneven as my first. It was so packed, people were hanging around outside sipping martinis and wine. I was fortunate to snag a seat.
A demi-carafe of house red ($16) turned out to be a French Merlot. I sipped my wine and watched the passersby along Locust Street.
The French onion soup ($9) was as fine as any I’ve tasted in Paris. The onions were so well-caramelized their sweetness played off against the golden, homemade stock, crouton and marvelously melted Gruyere.
The arugula salad with grilled sardines ($14) was a miss. The greens were overdressed with too much olive oil. The dish lacked flavor as the three, two-inch sardines that sat on rectangles of toasted bread tasted flat. Each piece of fish had a bit of roasted red pepper on top.
I looked forward to the duck confit ($18), but the one small, scrawny leg was so dry and salty I could barely touch it. To my amazement, a mound of arugula sat next to the duck. It was soggy and loaded with olive oil. Pickled, ice cold chanterelles were scattered on top. About five rounds of fingerling potatoes were included.
My server took good care of me. When I told her about the duck, she apologized and offered me dessert on the house. Pot du crème ($10) was French chocolate pudding that was rich, creamy and fashioned with dark semi-sweet chocolate.
Service at both meals was glitch-free perfection. The staff is well-trained and prepared.
I don’t think Parc is a place for those who savor the tastes and textures of bistro fare. It is a pricey attempt to recreate the food and feeling of a French bistro, intending to whisk diners away to the City of Light. Unfortunately, it does not.
One tip of the toque to Parc.
Parc
227 S. 18th St.
215-545-2262
Credit cards accepted
