Butcher & Singer

Before we bury the dear departed Striped Bass beneath a stampede of hungry meat-eaters, let us first pay tribute to the lasting splash of the big fish.

In terms of a culinary legacy, there's no denying its impact: In the last year alone, no fewer than 10 chefs reviewed in this column worked at some point behind the lines of Striped Bass' open kitchen.

Of course, its closing last year and recent replacement by a less-adventurous concept, a steak house called Butcher & Singer, marked the beginning of the end of an era, too, adding a scratch to the gold-plated culinary ambition of Walnut Street's Restaurant Row. That veneer has since taken a few more scuffs with the recent closing of Brasserie Perrier and news that Susanna Foo, ever the survivor, wasn't above starting to offer home delivery. (Not that I'm really complaining about Mongolian lamb pillows and moo-shu Berkshire pork to go - but it's both a humbling and a telling move on the local state of gourmet affairs.)

Bass' demise, especially, was a rude fine-dining reality check for Philadelphians: Our taste for highfalutin seafood gastronomy, it turns out, was less enthusiastic than many thought. Despite its lofty ambitions and glowing reviews, Striped Bass was never a whale of a financial success, contends Stephen Starr, its second owner. So last summer, he finally pulled the plug on the aquarium in favor of a safer gambit: red meat.

Out with the soaring fish sculpture. In with the gleaming golden bull and the retro chophouse look of Butcher & Singer.

"Holy porterhouse! Another steak place?!" gripes my inner cynic. "How much high-end beef can one city swallow?"

Well, pass the statins, Doc, because Butcher & Singer has made its case to my lipid-lovin' inner carnivore with some stellar chops and a throwback theme that, despite the kitschy plaid carpet and cloyingly chatty manager, is a perfect new identity for this classic space.