Parc

Stephen Starr has often said the "most fun" aspect of his business is the process of creating his restaurant "children" - a brood of 18 stretching from Walnut Street to Atlantic City to New York.

But when the kids turn out to be as gargantuan and unruly as Parc, the mega-bistro he has conjured up for Rittenhouse Square, a little extra attention to the after-care is also in order, in both the dining room and the kitchen.

I can only imagine the fun Starr and designer Shawn Hausman experienced in putting together Parc. It took true vision to blow out little Bleu and the entire ground floor of a former hotel at 18th and Locust to create the grand corner bistro space this city has never had. It took $9 million to bring it to life. And when Parc was ready - the wine-red awnings stretching taut over sidewalks lined with rattan chairs, the imported zinc bar agleam, the gorgeous tilework of fanned mosaics and fleurs de lis shining, and a fresh stain of faux nicotine smoking the ceiling and walls - the biggest restaurant spectacle of the decade was toasted with an unprecedented debut.

It was besieged by le tout Philly on its Bastille Day opening, and the mob hasn't let up since, as an average of more than 1,200 diners a day pour in for cheese-welded crocks of French onion soup, raclette-smothered burgers, and paper cones of crispy frites. And Parc's sidewalk scene, no surprise, has amped the 18th Street glitz quotient to levels of socialite posing (with the inevitable valet-parked sports cars, trophy dogs, and Botoxed beauties) not seen since the early days of Rouge (which on my recent visit, by the way, had ample empty seats).

The crowds are understandable, given the sheer magnetism of Parc's Parisian good looks, not to mention the many highlights of chef Dominique Filoni's polished bistro menu. There are iron crocks of tender escargots in hazelnut butter, pristine oysters on the half shell, and addictive bowls of rarely seen brandade, creamy salt cod whipped with garlic mashed potatoes. The amazingly crusty baguettes and country bread from pastry chef Frank Urso and his baker, Carlos Apricio, may be the best in the city. A prime New York strip glazed in green peppercorn au poivre sauce was so good, my guest, a steak-seeking Texan, literally hollered "Woohoo!" when he took a bite.